Chapter 3

KILLIAN'S POV

My brother, Henry made the announcement at the dinner table. "We’re having a baby.” His grin was smug, and I wanted to smack it off his face maybe with a punch, or worse. Breathe, Killian. Just breathe.

Sandy, his wife, touched her stomach. She didn’t seem like the motherly type. Honestly, none of them seemed fit to take care of anything, not even a goldfish.

“We’re eight weeks in. Still early, but we wanted you to know.” I kept my face calm, cracking my knuckles under the table. Their timing was terrible. Mother jumped from her chair, squealing as she hugged and kissed them both. Ariella, my younger sister, couldn’t stop talking about how excited she was to be an aunt. She was about to finish med school, so it made me question her life goals for a moment. Alex, our father, shook Henry’s hand like he’d just closed a big deal. In a way, he had.

Our father had always said he expected us to have kids. The family name, the company, and the fortune had to stay in the family. As the oldest, this was my responsibility first. I was supposed to have children, preferably a son to carry on the King legacy. If I didn’t, everything would go to Henry’s kids.

Alex stood tall and broad, with silver hair and sharp black eyes. He gave Sandy an awkward pat on the back. “Great news, sweetheart. The best we’ve had all year.” I checked my pulse under the table. Everyone turned to me. Ever since I became CEO of King Pipelines last year, I had taken the head of the table at family dinners.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Mother asked, playing with her pearls. I raised my glass of brandy. “To more Kings.” And to the men who make them,” Alex said, finishing his drink in one gulp.

His words hurt. I was 38, eleven years older than Henry, and still single and childless. Marriage wasn’t on my list of things to do. It ranked lower than cutting off a limb or jumping off a cliff. Kids weren’t my thing either. They were loud, messy, and needy. Still, I knew I’d have to do it someday. Marrying and having kids wasn’t about love or happiness for me. It was part of the job, part of building a bigger empire than the one I’d inherited. But I had planned to wait until my late 40s. My future wife would have to agree to strict rules that would scare most women away. That was the plan until my lawyer, Darryl ,told me last week that getting married could help fix my image and the company’s reputation.

“Well, Alex,” I said flatly, “I’m glad Henry has met your expectations.” Sandy glared at me. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Killian.”

“If you cared about good conversations, you wouldn’t have married a man who thinks fart jokes are the peak of comedy,” I shot back. “Congratulations would’ve been enough,” Sandy said, stabbing her fork in the air.

“Bite me,” I said, finishing my drink and slamming the glass down. “Killian!” Mother gasped. Sandy smiled . “There’s a name for people like you, you know.”

“Sociopath?” Henry guessed, dropping an imaginary mic. I asked one of the maids to refill my glass. They poured until it nearly spilled over. “Language!” Mother scolded.

“Yeah, I speak two languages: English and swearing,” Henry joked, laughing loudly. Unlike him, I had always been the perfect son. No scandals, no trouble, always responsible. The media still hated me, though. They called me Cold Killian, painted me as heartless, and mocked me for being single and childless.

“That’s enough,” Mother said, trying to calm everyone. “Let’s focus on the wonderful news. My first grandchild! Hopefully the first of many.”

“Don’t worry, Mum. I plan to give Sandy as many kids as she can handle,” Henry said, winking at his wife. I fought the urge to gag. Ariella sighed dreamily. “I can’t wait to be a mom someday.”

“You’ll be great,” Sandy said, squeezing her hand. Henry, ever the clown, muttered, “To imaginary kids with your brother-in-law.” Ariella turned bright red. I couldn’t help but smirk. My sister had a ridiculous crush on Sandy’s older brother, Daniel Sterling, a man far out of her league. My father turned to me, using my nickname, (my golden one).

“What about you?” my father asked

“What about me?” I cut my salmon into tiny, even pieces.

“When will you give me grandchildren?”

“That’s a question for my wife.”

“You don’t have a wife.”

“Then I guess no kids anytime soon.”

My father's face turned red in anger. “Over my dead body.” He shouted.

“Don’t tempt me,” I whispered under my breath. Alex slammed his fist on the table. “You scare people. The media hates you. Fix your image, or I’ll replace you.” He stormed out, leaving me sitting there, calm on the outside but raging inside.

The next day, I booked a flight to Australia for business. Unlike my foolish brother Henry, I didn’t take risks with random women. Every two months, I went to Europe to meet women under strict agreements. No scandals, no mess. I paid them well, treated them politely, and kept everything professional.

These women were smart, successful, and selective. First class, no drama. Since becoming CEO, I stopped using the family jet. Drawing attention to my personal life was not an option. If anyone found out, my career would be over. Now, I was on a regular flight back to Boston, stuck with strangers and stale air. I focused on work, ignoring thoughts of Henry becoming a father or Annabelle Steele.

She’d shown up at my office, furious when I pretended not to remember her. But I did. Annabelle had golden hair, bright blue eyes, and soft, sweet innocence. A preschool teacher who wore handmade dresses and showed her feelings to the world.

She wanted a loan. Normally, I’d make her sweat by paying it back. But not her. I didn’t want her in my life or owing me anything. Annabelle had a crush on me once. I had no use for feelings unless they were tools to get what I wanted. As I sat in first class on the way back to Boston, I reflected on everything: my family, the media, and my father’s ultimatum. Then I made a decision. If I wanted to save my position, my reputation, and everything I’d built, I needed a wife. And despite my feelings I knew Annabelle was just the woman for the job.