Chapter 7

The morning light filtered through the heavy velvet drapes of the suite, slicing through the dimness in thick, golden beams that danced with suspended dust motes. It was a quiet, hazy kind of light, the kind that usually belongs to lazy Sundays, not the high-octane aftermath of the most prestigious fashion show of the season. But here, in the heart of the convention center’s VIP wing, the world outside had been shut out, locked away by the heavy oak doors and the staff who knew better than to disturb the man who owned the building. I stirred, the weight of him a comforting anchor against my side. My head rested on his chest, right over the steady, rhythmic thud of his heart. The sheets were tangled around our legs, a chaotic mess of high-thread-count silk and linen that spoke of a night spent in feverish, breathless pursuit. I didn’t move immediately. I let the sensation of his body heat seep into my skin, letting the reality of who I was—just a girl, a model, a woman in her mid-twenties trying to make her way in a brutal industry—fade into the background. For a moment, I was just his. His baby