The Billionaire And His One Night Stand

New York, Sebastian

As I sat in the car with Mia, the memory of her loud and unequivocal “no” echoing in my mind, I couldn’t help but feel a strong urge to facepalm myself. I had always heard that being rejected during a marriage proposal was a man’s worst nightmare, and now, I was living that nightmare. It was the kind of experience that made a man want to change his name, move to another country, or perhaps even another planet.

But of course, it was happening to me, Sebastian Thornton, a man who was used to handling life’s obstacles with grace and charm. However, this situation was different, and it involved Mia, the hard-headed woman who was now carrying my child.

Mia’s rejection hadn’t just been a blow to my ego; it had been a stark reminder of the complexities of our situation. We were two people who barely knew each other, thrust into a life-altering event that neither of us had anticipated or desired.

I stole a glance at Mia, her face a mix of anger and fear. It was the fear that intrigued me the most. Who was Mia afraid of? Was it me? I doubted it. There was something deeper at play here, something that Mia wasn’t sharing.

As her phone continued to buzz incessantly with messages, I watched her closely, and her pallor became increasingly pronounced. When she finally read the text messages, her entire expression changed. Her face turned pale, and her eyes widened with a mixture of shock and dread.

I couldn’t help but lean closer, my concern for her overriding any lingering awkwardness between us. “Mia, what’s wrong?” I asked, my voice laced with genuine worry.

She looked up at me, her lips trembling slightly as she tried to find the right words. “My parents… they know,” she whispered, her voice filled with anguish.

The revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. Mia’s parents were now aware of the scandalous situation we found ourselves in, and judging by her reaction, it was clear that this was a catastrophe of epic proportions in her eyes.

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. While my own parents were certainly not thrilled with the recent developments in my life, they were far more understanding than Mia’s family, who would undoubtedly be deeply disappointed by the circumstances surrounding their daughter’s pregnancy.

“Is it really that bad?” I asked Mia, my genuine curiosity evident in my tone. I wanted to understand the depth of her predicament, to grasp the full extent of her fears and anxieties.

A humorless chuckle escaped her lips, a stark contrast to the emotions that had been churning within her. “Bad? It’s the worst,” she admitted in a hushed tone, her voice laced with vulnerability. “Especially since I haven’t told them about my divorce yet.”

Her revelation left me momentarily stunned. “Divorce?” I repeated, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Mia nodded, her gaze downcast as she continued to confide in me. “Yes, I was married to Gavin Campbell up until a few months ago,” she confessed. “But I haven’t told my parents about the divorce yet because, well, even though Gavin was in the wrong, they would still take his side. I’m not exactly their ideal daughter-the dream daughter they had in mind.”

My heart went out to her as I heard the pain in her words. “You’re a very successful fashion consultant,” I pointed out, wanting to offer her some reassurance. “Your accomplishments speak for themselves.”

Mia managed a lopsided smile, acknowledging my words. “Tell that to my parents,” she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. “And now, with this pregnancy and marriage scandal making headlines, I know they’ll find out sooner or later. I just wish it could be later-much later.”

Moved by her distress, I reached out and gently took her hand, relieved when she didn’t pull away. “We’re in this together,” I told her earnestly. “My parents aren’t thrilled either, and I have to admit, they’re the ones who suggested marriage.”

Her reaction was immediate-her head shot up, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re lying,” she responded, clearly taken aback by the revelation.

I shook my head, my expression sincere. “No, I’m not,” I assured her. “They’re very religious, and in their eyes, it’s the right thing to do.”

Mia sighed in exasperation and then turned her gaze toward the window. As we continued our drive, we arrived at her street, only to be met with a scene that filled both of us with dread.

“There are so many cars outside,” Mia observed, her voice tinged with anxiety.

I glanced out the window, confirming her suspicions. “Yes, it is,” I confirmed. “We’ll use the back door.” I directed my driver to head toward the rear entrance, hoping to avoid the paparazzi’s relentless scrutiny.

My driver turned his head around and looked apologetically at me. “They blocked it sir.”

“Motherfuckers.”Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

As we sat in the car, blocked by the paparazzi and faced with the dilemma of how to get Mia safely inside her home, my mind raced to find a solution. Unfortunately, every attempt to devise a plan came up empty. The photographers were relentless, and the options seemed limited.

“Do you want to drive to mine?” I suggested, desperation creeping into my voice. “At least until the paparazzi leaves.”

Mia regarded me skeptically, clearly taken aback by the offer. “You want me to go to your apartment?” she asked, her uncertainty apparent.

I nodded earnestly. “Yes, it might be the safest option right now,” I explained. “You can stay over until morning. I know the paparazzi will hound you with insane questions, and I’d rather you avoid that.”

Her thoughtful gaze lingered for a moment before she finally relented. “Fine,” she agreed, her voice carrying a hint of resignation. “I’ll text Bella that I’m staying over at yours.”