Billionaire Flawed 1(9)

Amelia sighed heavily and dropped her pen. Knowing her fiery personality, I watched her and waited for the blunt comeback I knew would come. However, she just closed her eyes and hung her head. It was evident that something was eating at her; I could see it written on her face.

“Amelia, what is wrong?” I pressed.

She looked up at me with the pain of hell in her eyes and whispered something I couldn’t quite catch. I stepped a little closer, furrowing my brows in confusion. I asked her to repeat herself, and, unfortunately, she did.

“Kellan, I’m pregnant with your baby.”





Chapter Five

Amelia

Pun aside, there was an impregnated silence inside Kellan’s car. I had no idea where we were going, but the way the muscles of his jaw popped told me I wasn’t supposed to ask, so I kept quiet and stared out the window.

After about half an hour of that awful silence, the car stopped in front of a tall building with a doorman. Kellan stepped out and started walking. Figuring that this was our destination, I followed him. We walked through a pair of glass doors and entered a lobby of modern opulence. The floor was made of gray marble, and there was a large chandelier hanging in the center. I knew he was a billionaire, but, for some reason, I was surprised he lived in a place with such a prestigious first impression.

“You sure know how to impress the ladies,” I joked as we waited for the elevator.

Kellan either didn’t hear or flat out ignored me. Either way, the uncomfortable silence became even worse as we stepped into the elevator. I could tell by his pacing that the news I had delivered back at the office was starting to sink in. Panic shone in his eyes, and for the first time, I felt like we were in the same boat.

By the time the elevator came to a stop at the penthouse, my anxiety was at a new high. I felt like I could literally climb the walls of his fancy apartment as I followed him inside and watched as he made straight for his booze collection. Unable to take it anymore, I said, “Kellan, it’s been half an hour. We have to talk.”

Kellan narrowed his eyes at me and opened—with unnecessary force—a bottle of scotch. He poured himself what I could only assume was a quadruple shot and downed it in one gulp. Annoyed by his behavior, I crossed my arms over my chest and stared back at him.

He filled his glass again and leaned against the table. Finally, Kellan’s eyes found mine, but still he refused to speak. The intense emotion in his gaze was something I couldn’t comprehend. It was a mixture of fear and anger, and though I understood both emotions separately, combined under these circumstances, they were quite unsettling.

A part of me wanted to go over and comfort him, but an even bigger part of me wanted to keep my distance. I knew this painful silence was nothing more than a dreadful calm before a storm. Based on the size of this calm, the storm was going to be a nasty one, and I wanted to be as far away as possible when it hit.

When five more long minutes went by without a single word, my body felt like it would explode with anxiety. It was so unfair that he could calm himself with booze and I had to make do with pacing—I hated pacing. However, walking from side to side in his living room allowed me to think and try to understand what was happening inside Kellan’s mind.

All I knew about him was based on what my father had told me, which honestly wasn’t much. However, I did know that he had never had a serious relationship and that he didn’t keep in touch with his family. It was evident that both things were somehow connected to each other and to his behavior now.

In another attempt to start a conversation and, hopefully, appease his mind, I said, “I’m not asking for a relationship, I promise.”

Kellan chuckled sarcastically and downed the remaining contents of his tumbler. Without even looking at me, he reached for the bottle again. It was then that I snapped. This was undoubtedly the most important moment of both our lives, and I refused to discuss it with a drunk.

I walked over and took the bottle from him. Looking him in his eyes, I barked, “Stop acting like a teenager and talk to me.”

Fire burned in his eyes as he turned his gaze back to me. “Have you told your parents?”

The intensity and anger in his voice made me tremble. “N-no, I haven’t,” I stuttered.

“Good. Don’t.” I frowned at his reply, but Kellan ignored my expression and reached for a different bottle of alcohol. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not going to allow your stupidity to cost me my best friend, my company, my job, or anything else I care about. You’re the one who made this mess for yourself, so you’ll be the one cleaning it up.”

I had always thought it was a euphemism when people said words could cut like knives, but in that exact moment, I found out it wasn’t. The bitterness and coldness in his words pierced my heart like a sword. After all of my failed attempts at getting him naked again, I had no delusions that he would be happy about my pregnancy and be willing to marry me, but I hadn’t expected him to be such a jerk about it. Suddenly, I was Hulk-level angry.