Chapter 3 The Coldest Deal

Ethan's POV

The first few weeks dragged by in a haze of routine and frustration. I buried myself in work, managing race schedules, sponsor meetings, and the endless demands of the Blackwood motorsport empire.

But my mind kept circling back to her. Claire Sinclair.

Gawd I even know her name.

She stayed confined to the penthouse most days, following the strict medical protocol of hormone injections, ultrasounds, diet plans, and light workouts to prepare her body for the IVF procedure.

I made sure everything was handled clinically. No emotions. No complications.

But fuck, she was harder to ignore than I expected.

That evening, I returned earlier than usual, the storm of my father’s deadline still raging in my head.

Xavier met me at the door. “Dinner is ready, Mr. Blackwood.”

I nodded and strode into the dining room, finding Claire already seated with her back straight and wearing a simple tank top with lounge pants that clung to her curves.

Her dark hair was loose, and those defiant eyes flicked up to meet mine the second I entered.

The silence was thick enough to choke on.

“Enjoying your stay?” I asked, more statement than question, as I poured myself a glass of whiskey instead of wine.

She rolled her eyes, the fire in her gaze unmistakable. “This wasn’t supposed to be a vacation. I’m here to carry your child and get paid, not play happy housewife.”

A dark smirk tugged at my lips. I liked that mouth of hers. Much more than I'd like to admit.

I sat down across from her with legs spread out and studying the way her chest rose and fell under that thin top.

“Everything’s on track. Doctors say your body is responding well to the treatments. We’ll proceed with the implantation soon,” I explained.

She gave a curt nod, pushing food around her plate. “Good.”

Tension crackled between us like fuel on a hot engine. I could see the pulse jumping in her throat. She hated me. She wanted the money. But there was something else hiding underneath it all, I knew it.

And part of me called it the exact same unwanted pull I felt every time I looked at her.

I leaned back, dragging my eyes slowly down her body. “You’re handling this better than most women would. No tears. No unnecessary demands.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m not most women. I’m here for my father. That’s it.”

The maids delivered my food shortly afterwards, and with one final glance, I turned to my food.

We barely spoke for the rest of dinner, but the air was charged. Every glance felt like foreplay. And when she stood up to leave, I caught the sway of her hips and felt my cock twitch below.

Fuck it, Ethan. This is supposed to be business.

But as much as I knew that, I also knew that Claire Sinclair was starting to feel like a dangerous distraction.

Claire's POV

Later that night, I stood in front of the mirror in what I've gotten to know as my luxurious bedroom, staring at my reflection.

My body already felt different, tender from the hormone shots and heavier with the weight of what I’d signed up for.

The expensive silk robe Damon’s staff had provided did nothing to make me feel at home.

This golden cage was suffocating.

The door opened without a knock. I tensed as Ethan stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a storm.

He’d shed his blazer, the black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the hard lines of his chest. He looked every bit the powerful, untouchable racer boss I read on.

His broad shoulders, dangerous eyes, and that raw masculine energy made my stomach tighten against my will.

“Everything okay?” His voice was low, rougher than usual.

I didn’t turn around. “Yes.”

He didn’t leave. I felt him move closer, stopping just behind me. Heat radiated from his body, prickling my skin.

The mirror reflected both of us, me in the robe and him towering over me like a predator sizing up his prey.

My heart hammered as I waited for him to say something cruel, or cold, or commanding. But instead, silence stretched, thick and heavy with things neither of us wanted to name.

I finally turned to face him and our eyes locked just inches apart.

I could smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of whiskey. My nipples tightened under the thin robe as unwanted heat pooled low in my belly.

He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. The touch was brief, but it burned. Then his gaze dropped to my lips, then lower, tracing the curve of my breasts.

For a second, I thought he might kiss me. Or push me against the mirror and take what the contract allowed.

My body betrayed me as my thighs pressed together with an arousal flaring up against my better judgment.

But he stepped back, jaw clenched tight.

“Get some rest,” he said coldly, turning towards the door. “Big day tomorrow with the doctors.”

The door clicked shut behind him and I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my racing heart. My body was on fire from just that small contact.

Damn him.

I was here for the money. For my father. Nothing else.

But Ethan Blackwood was cracking the walls I’d built, and frankly, I hated how much I wanted him to break them down completely.