Chapter 4 CHAPTER FOUR

Marie POV

I'd done my research on the way over.

Nothing much, just a hurried Wikipedia scroll on the bus, one hand gripping the overhead rail while the other swiped through my phone, but it had been enough to make my palms sweat.

Xavier Richards, the twenty eight year old CEO of Richards Group, a conglomerate that had made more billions in the last five years than any other company at its level.

He was the kind of man with his own Wikipedia page and the man whose child I was apparently carrying.

I had not believed it when a sleek, deep voice echoed the words.

"You are pregnant with my child."

I still couldn't believe it now.

I spotted him the moment I walked in. He was already seated, which I appreciated — it meant I had approximately four seconds to compose myself before he looked up and saw me.

I used them wisely, taking two deep breaths.

Straighten your back, Marie, you are a Montez and Montez women do not visibly panic in public.

He looked up.

Wikipedia had not prepared me for that.

Xavier Richards in person was hot. I filed that thought away immediately and sat down across from him.

"Miss Montez," he said.

"Mr. Richards," I replied, and I was proud of how steady my voice came out.

– –

"I'm really sorry about this," he said after we'd ordered.

"I understand if you want to sue."

"God no," I shuddered, cutting off whatever he'd been about to say next.

"I'd like to keep this from my parents as much as I can."

He nodded slowly.

"How will you deal with this?"

"I don't know yet," I admitted.

"I didn't exactly plan for any of it."

"I plan on following your lead," he offered and I smiled at that despite myself.

"That's a nice sentiment," I said.

"But I'm sure your family won't like it very much."

"I'll handle them," he said, and something in the way he said it, quietly, without drama, made me believe him.

"And how do we handle your parents?" he asked.

I glanced at him, surprised. He shrugged.

"You're more disadvantaged than I am in this situation, so we need to take you into consideration more."

Something loosened slightly in my chest. "That's a very nice sentiment. I'm grateful."

"I'm glad I could help. This was a mistake that put you in a rough spot — anything I can do to help, I'll do," he answered.

"You're not what I thought you would be," I muttered before I could stop myself.

He leaned back in his seat, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"And what was that?"

"More self-serving," I whispered.

He burst out laughing — a real laugh, not a polite one.

"I don't see the need to be a rude, unconscionable ass."

"Some would say you're entitled to be one," I muttered, and he grinned.

"I see you did your research."

"Of course I did. I was meeting a stranger who claimed to be the father of my baby." I paused.

"Wiki facts mostly, but still."

"And what did you find?" he asked, something like amusement dancing in his eyes.

"A lot," I said. "Which left me pleasantly surprised." He raised a brow and I continued.

"Being a billionaire isn't an easy feat, but you've managed to run a company that's made more billions in the last five years than any other conglomerate at your level." I could hear my own excitement creeping in and didn't entirely bother to hide it.

He tilted his head. "You like business."

"Of course. My father owns a chain of hotels, nothing expansive, but I like working with him." I paused.

"I get to learn things, though they'll never actually include me in the business." I heard the sullenness in my own voice and pressed my lips together.

He was quiet for a moment. "Why work for them then? Why not go somewhere else?"

I opened my mouth. Then closed it.

Why not go somewhere else?

I sat there, turning that question over. I'd been working for my father's company for years.

It had never really crossed my mind to leave and work elsewhere. Everyone worked for the family, my brothers since they graduated, then me as well.

In those years I'd first loved it, but lately it had become more of a burden going in every day, but the thought of leaving had simply never occurred to me, and maybe that had been my own fault.

I'd relied on my family for too long.

Sara thought I was too timid with them.

My mother would say "but that's what family is for, mija — to take care of each other," and while that was a nice sentiment, it didn't always feel that way.

Most times it felt like they simply humored my need for a job. My mother was a devoted housewife and somewhere deep down they expected the same of me.

"I guess no one leaves the family," I said softly.

He nodded, small and thoughtful, and didn't push further. I liked that about him.

I looked around us and realized the lunch crowd had thinned almost entirely.

We seemed to be the only ones left. Xavier noticed it too and huffed softly.

"I think we lost track of time."

"Yeah, we did," I said, smiling.

"I have to go," I whispered, pulling my bag into my lap.

"Okay. You have my number — call me when you're ready," he said.

I stood, anchoring my bag across my shoulder and pushed back my chair. I didn't want to leave yet, if I was being honest with myself.

Home wasn't so comforting these days, I was always on edge praying my parents didn't find out I was pregnant.

My mother would be disappointed and I knew handling my father would be difficult.

He would be furious, especially when I came home with no boyfriend, no husband, no father for the child.

No husband.

The word tugged on my gut.

Bernardo's face surfaced before I could stop it — not the man my mother saw, the one who handed out turkeys at the community center and got his photo in the local paper for it.

But the man who on our very first date grabbed my wrist, his grip tightening as he leaned over me in a dark parking, the smell of whiskey on his breath as he whispered

“ Stop being a prude, we both know why you're here.” I'd had to wrench my arm free and cover the bruises with long sleeves for a week. That had been after our first and only date,if I had anything to say about it.

I'd never told my parents why I refused to see him again. I'd let them think I was simply being difficult.

If I went home without a solution, Bernardo would be on the table again. And next time my parents might not let me say no.

My heart was beating too fast, my palms going sweaty all over again, and before I could think better of it the words were already leaving my

mouth.

An idea popped into my head and I froze, my heart beating faster even as my palms went sweaty.

It was an outrageous idea.

I asked anyway.

"Marry me."