Intimate Negotiations

Cora quickly stepped back, breaking the intoxicating heat of his grip. "T-Thank you, Mr. Lockwood." She forced her trembling fingers to still. "I'm Cora Vance from the translation department. I'll be serving as your interpreter for today's business negotiation."

Gideon offered a low hum. "Thank you, Ms. Vance," he replied, his deep voice carrying a strange thrill.

*Thank goodness he is keeping it professional.* Cora let out a shaky breath, turning to lead Gideon and the Kaelorian business partners into the Solstice Club.

She had booked the club's largest private room. After guiding the men inside, she stepped out to instruct the waitstaff to serve lunch in twenty minutes.

When she returned, the large round table was packed.

"Ms. Vance, take my seat." Tobias stood up. "We really need your help with the interpretation. I have urgent matters to handle and will be leaving shortly."

Cora froze. The empty chair sat directly beside Gideon. With the Kaelorians occupying the opposite side, she had no room to argue. She sat down, keeping her spine rigid.

The afternoon focused heavily on negotiating ocean freight rates. The Kaelorian language, Valerian, flowed in gentle, hushed tones. They wanted to increase their bulk purchase but demanded a lower quote on shipping costs. To catch their soft-spoken counteroffers, Cora had to lean far over the table.

Every time she shifted forward, her bare arm brushed against Gideon’s. He wore a thin dress shirt, and the heat radiating from his skin seared through the fabric. Each accidental slide of their arms sent raw flashes of their hotel night crashing into her mind. She remembered the heavy weight of his body pressing her down, the friction of his rough palms over her bare skin, and the harsh rhythm of his breathing in the dark.

Heat flushed her cheeks, burning a crimson trail down her neck.

*Stop thinking about it, Cora! Focus on the numbers.*

She finished translating another complex clause, desperate to hide her burning face. Needing a distraction, she reached blindly for the crystal wine glass on the table and took a steadying swallow.

A heavy stare landed hard on her profile. Cora turned her head. Gideon sat leaning back in his chair, his chin resting casually on the back of his hand. A predatory smirk curled the corner of his lips. His dark eyes locked onto her mouth.

*Why is he looking at me like that?*

Panic spiked in her chest. She glanced down at the table. Her own untouched glass sat securely to her left. The crystal stem currently clutched in her right hand belonged to Gideon.

She had just drunk his red wine. Her lips had pressed exactly against the rim where his had been.

The wine lingering on her tongue felt like molten iron. Trapped under his unyielding gaze, she forced herself to gulp the liquid down and set the glass back on the table with feigned composure.

Gideon watched the subtle tremor in her fingers. *What a steady woman,* he mused silently, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

Thanks to Gideon proving generous with the shipping terms, the intense negotiation wrapped up thirty minutes early. The waitstaff promptly rolled in carts of lavish dishes.

However, the room's air conditioning blasted freezing air to accommodate the large crowd. Cora forced down a few bites of food, but her stomach instantly rebelled against the icy draft. A harsh wave of nausea slammed into her. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead as she gripped her napkin.

Gideon noticed her sudden pallor and the visible shiver wracking her frame. "We are done with the negotiation," he said, his tone flat and commanding. "Go and take a rest."

"Thank you, Mr. Lockwood." Cora clamped a hand over her mouth. Her stomach heaved. Unable to form another syllable, she shoved her chair back and dashed out of the private room.

The man narrowed his dark eyes, watching her desperate retreat down the hall.

Cora rushed into the restroom, bypassing the marble sinks and diving straight into an empty cubicle. She grabbed the edges of the porcelain toilet bowl and threw up before she could even latch the door shut.

She retched until her stomach emptied, the bitter taste of bile burning her throat. After several minutes of taking deep, shaky breaths, the severe nausea finally began to ebb away. She reached up, flushed the toilet, and wiped the cold sweat from her face.

Turning around to leave the narrow cubicle, she stopped dead in her tracks.

A towering figure blocked her path.

"M-Mr. Lockwood." Cora nearly bit her own tongue. Gideon stood casually leaning against the doorway of the ladies' room. The heavy, dark aura he projected swallowed the cramped, tiled space. "This is the ladies' room. The restroom for men is next door."

Gideon didn't move. He didn't even look at her face. Instead, he lowered his gaze, his dark, calculating eyes staring directly at her flat stomach.

The sheer intensity of his focus made Cora’s pulse pound wildly against her ribs. Suffocating physical tension flooded the small room, escalating into pure panic. She pressed her back against the cubicle wall, feeling cornered by his deeply intrusive stare.

Slipping a hand into his pocket, he closed the distance between them and asked in a chillingly indifferent tone, "Are you pregnant?"