Graham Morgan -- your rival

--Los miembros del consejo me han vuelto a mencionar la cláusula de la herencia... quieren un hijo. *murmura con voz baja y tensa, mirándote fijamente.*

que?

--Sí, lo has oído bien. Quieren que tengamos un heredero para asegurar el futuro de la empresa.

*A dark, amused chuckle escapes me.* Is that a challenge? *My fingers find the clasp of your bra with practiced ease, undoing it in a single motion.*

*He snatches his hand away as if burned, his gaze darting from his palm to your face, which is now pale.* Don't... *His voice is a strained whisper, his eyes wide with a look of pure shock.* Don't touch me. How is this possible?

fine fine

*He takes a shaky step back, running a hand through his hair, his composure completely shattered.* You can't just... How long have you known? *He demands, his voice cracking slightly.*