Chapter 57 A Replacement
Claire
The frown disappeared as quickly as it had appeared on his face, and for a moment I wondered if I had imagined it.
“Enough with all this pregnancy talk,” he said. “I thought the holiday would do you good, so why faint the moment you arrived?”
It did do me good. But constantly thinking about how or even when to break the news to my children had drained me more than I realized.
The holiday was exactly what I wanted, yet my mind refused to rest. Now that everything was finally out in the open, I felt like I could breathe again—like peace was within reach.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy for my children to understand or accept everything. It would take time, but eventually, they would come around. They had to.
“It was,” I said honestly. “I had fun.”
“Well, you weren’t the only one who did,” he replied.
I snapped my gaze to him, one brow lifting. Oh—so he had fun too?
“Your husband has been enjoying himself with one of my girls,” he added.
So that was it. Ian.
“What did you do this time?” I asked, suspecting him.
A smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything. He walked into my domain all on his own.”
I believed him.
I nodded slightly and looked away, but when I felt him step closer, I turned back. His face was only inches from mine as he lowered his head.
“Tell me, Mrs. Claire,” he said quietly, “do you still love him?”
The question caught me completely off guard.
Why would Liam ask me something like that? He wasn’t the kind of man who concerned himself with emotions like this.
And did I still love Ian?
The answer was simple—no. I didn’t. Not after discovering who he truly was.
“Why are you asking me this?” I asked, my voice low.
He smiled slowly.
“You see, Mrs. Claire, even if we do not sex and I only knew you through greetings,” he said, “if your husband did what Mr. Anthony is doing now, I would advise you to leave him.”
I searched his eyes. He wasn’t speaking carelessly.
“When you do,” he continued, “live the way you want. Travel if you wish. You’re more than capable of that kind of life.”
And like a child receiving guidance, I simply nodded in response.
He straightened up suddenly and watched me intently. "Would you like something to eat?" he asked. I nodded right away—no denying I was starving. "Yes," I said, "but first I need to get discharged." He gave a single nod as I started easing myself out of the bed.
God, my body felt so stiff. If anything, I could really use some exercise too.
He reached for his phone and spoke to me in a gentle, low voice. “While you call your doctor to get discharged, I’ll have to step out—I’ve got a call to make,” he said.
I gave him a small nod and a soft smile as he started backing away, pulling the door closed behind him.
I leaned down, picked up my phone from the bedside, and dialed my personal doctor.
After I explained and told him to discharge me, I set the phone down on the bed and rolled my head from side to side. Liam returned—I could hear his footsteps approaching. "Are you done with the call?" I asked.
But unlike him, there was no reply.
Instead, he stopped right behind me and bent down until his head rested near my shoulder. My eyes flicked toward him as his hand settled on my waist. "Mrs. Claire," he finally murmured. The way he said my name always sent a shiver through me—in the best way.
Maybe it was because I recognized that particular tone. "Are you sure you don’t have mummy issues?" I teased. A low laugh vibrated from his throat.
It might sound like a joke, and he laughed it off, but it could actually be true. Did he have mummy issues? I didn’t think so—he’d told me before that he didn’t go for mature milfs. Still, that didn’t mean I couldn’t be the first older woman he’d ever been with.
"What are you thinking about, Mrs. Claire?" His voice came again, soft, as he pressed the lightest kiss to my ear.
"You do realize if I clean up all my mess, that would be the end of us," I said—plain truth. I braced for his usual pushback, but instead he just laughed again.
Then he turned me fully to face him, his eyes locked on mine. "I’m not a fool, Mrs. Claire. If you really wanted to walk away, you would have done it ages ago. But you chose to play along."
This bastard… he wasn’t entirely wrong.
"Well, did you forget why this started in the first place?" I asked and he frowned—of course he remembered. "That I blackmailed you into having sex… that you ended up liking?" he asked. I swallowed hard. Still not a lie.
"So what’s your point?" I shot back. He reached up and gently brushed the hair from my face. "The point is, Mrs. Claire, whether you get your life back or not, you’re stuck with me until I’m done with you." His tone made it clear he wasn’t joking.
"And when will that be?" I challenged, daring him.
"I don’t know," he answered without missing a beat—which threw me completely. "What do you mean you don’t know?" I asked.
He tilted his head slightly. "Well… you’re the only one who can make me come. Once I find your replacement, then I can let you go."
My replacement? It shouldn’t have stung, but it did—sharply.
Of course. That’s all I’d ever been to him: someone who could make him come. The whole reason this started. "But there’s a problem, Mrs. Claire," he added. I dragged my gaze back to his as he leaned in closer, until his forehead touched mine.
My eyes widened.
"It’s going to be hard to find that replacement… because none of them arouse me."
Before I could even form the words to ask what the hell he meant by that, before I could press him on whether that was just another line or something closer to the truth—his lips crashed against mine.
The kiss swallowed every question still floating in my head. He bit down gently on my lower lip, tugging just enough to make me gasp, and all rational thought scattered.
"I’ve been dying to kiss you, Mrs. Claire," he murmured against my mouth, "the moment I first walked in."
His kisses turned ravenous, hungry, claiming. I wanted him to do all the things he’d done to me before—everything. He kissed me deeper, tasting me the same way I tasted him, our tongues sliding and curling together in a slick, wet dance. And it wasn’t just my mouth that was wet anymore; heat pooled low in my belly, slickness gathering between my thighs.
But reality snapped back fast. Not here. There were cameras in hospital rooms.
I broke the kiss abruptly and pressed my palm over his mouth to stop him. "That’s enough for now," I said, my voice shaky.
He dragged his tongue slowly along the center of my palm, eyes never leaving mine. "What is?" he asked, voice low and teasing.
"Not here," I managed, shoving him back a step. He let out a quiet, dark laugh as he straightened to his full height.
"Then where, Mrs. Claire?"
My face burned with embarrassment. I turned away, unable to hold his gaze. "I’m hungry," I reminded him, latching onto the safest excuse.
"Well, change out of the hospital clothes," he said calmly, already reaching behind me. "I’ve arranged what to eat."
I nodded, still flushed, and felt his fingers brush the back of my neck as he untied the strings of the gown.