The Billionaire’s Secret Heirs (Celine and Hunter) novel Chapter 48

Chapter 48

-CELINE-

The next morning, I step out of the staff quarter making my way to the main house. The early sun casts long shadows across the immaculate lawns, dew still clinging to the grass.

I’d woken earlier than usual, Caesar’s restless night meant little sleep for either of us. Still, there was work to be done.

Inside, the mansion feels unusually quiet. Only two maids are around, dusting in the main foyer.

When I ask about the others, they explain that Sally, Ana, and the rest have gone grocery shopping to pick up other supplies the

mansion needed.

“They left early,” one of them says, not quite meeting my eyes. “Sally said they’d be back by noon.”

Inod, understanding what isn’t being said. I’m being excluded again.

The other staff have formed their cliques, their alliances. And I–the single mother, the newest hire, the one who seems to catch Mr. Reid’s attention too often, being on the outside.

“That’s fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “I needed the rest anyway”

After checking my duties for the day, I decided to start with the library. It’s peaceful there, and Caesar loves the children’s books I sometimes borrow for him.

I’m halfway across the foyer when I hear one of the maids greeting someone, her voice suddenly formal and respectful.

Hunter’s cold, yet rough voice fills the quiet air. “Where is everyone today?”

I freeze, then instinctively turn to leave. Our meeting last night felt too fresh, too intimate. But before I can escape, his eyes catch

mine.

He doesn’t call my name. Instead, he lifts his hand, a slight gesture with two fingers–the way someone might summon a dog.

I frown but make my way toward him, my steps measured. Professional. Distant.

“Mr. Reid, greet him, my voice neutral.

“Where are all the staff?” he asks, his gaze intense. “The house is too quiet.””

I explain about Sally and the athers going shopping, my eyes drifting to the gleaming marble tile beneath our feet rather than meeting his penetrating stare.

“Why are you looking at the floor instead of at me when I’m speaking to you?” he asks sharply.

My head snaps up. “Huh?”

-HUNTER-

The soft sound of confusion that escapes her lips catches me off guard. I stare at her face… look at it–for the first time since our tense meeting in ber quarters last night.

There are shadows under her eyes, but they don’t reduce the clear, innocent beauty of her features. No makeup, no artifice. Just

1/6

Chapter 48

Celine.

Something tightens in my chest. “Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, looking away before she can read whatever emotion might be betraying me.

“is my breakfast ready?” I ask, needing to return to safer territory.

“I’m not sure if Cook prepared anything yet,” she says, her voice solt. “I can call her to get something ready for you.”

She turns to leave, but I catch myself reaching out, my hand closing around her wrist. Her skin is warm beneath my fingers, and feel her pulse jump.

“You prepare it,” I say, the words coming out more like a command than a request.

Her eyes widen in confusion. “Me?””

“Yes, you.”

She stands there looking restless and uncertain. “I don’t think…

“You cook good food,” I explain, remembering the cookies from the night before, their simple, perfect sweetness.

Ablush spreads across her cheeks, warming her pale skin with color. I feel the corner of my mouth–lifts in response, a smile I quickly

try to suppress.

“I’m busy with my son, she protests weakly.

“I pay you to attend to my needs, Celine, not focus on your kid,” I say, the words harsh even to my ears. “Caesar is not a kid that needs supervising every hour!”

I see her mouth form a pout as if she wants to argue, but then her shoulders slump slightly in resignation.

“Fine,” she agrees.

-CELINE-

I should refuse. Tell him that cooking isn’t in my job description. That Caesar is waiting for me. After last night’s conversation, I need space to breathe, and to think..

But something in the way he looks at me….something almost helpless beneath the cold command…makes me nod instead.

I lead the way to the kitchen, hyperaware of Hunter following behind me. The vast, industrial kitchen always makes me feel small, but with Hunter’s presence filling the space, it seems to shrink even further.

“What would you like?” I ask, opening the refrigerator to survey the options.

“Surprise me,” he says, settling at the counter that faces the kitchen.

I risk a glance his way as I gather ingredients. He’s pretending to be interested in his phone, but I feel his gaze on me when I tum Away

Deciding on a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and fresh fruit, I begin to work.

The kitchen is silent except for the sounds of cooking–the crack of eggs, the sizzle of butter in the pan, the rhythmic thud of my

2/6

1245

Chapter 48

knife against the cutting board as I chop strawberries.

The onions for the eggs make my eyes sting, and I blink rapidly, trying to clear them. When one particularly sharp sting makes me flinch, I hear a soft chuckle from the counter.

I look up to catch Hunter watching me, an amused expression softening his usually stern features.

He immediately shifts his gaze back to his phone, but not before I notice the way joy transforms his face, making him look younger and less burdened.

As I reach for a pan on the top shell, I stretch upward, fingertips just brushing the handle but unable to grasp it. I’m considering getting a step stool when I sense movement behind me.

Hunter’s presence looms large as he steps into my space, his chest nearly touching my back as he reaches up for the pan. Our hands graze each other, his fingers brushing against mine as we both touch the metal handle.

It’s the barest contact…a whisper of skin against skin….but electricity shoots through me. He doesn’t move away immediately. Instead, his hand stays near mine for a heartbeat too long.

I flinch, backing away until I feel the counter edge pressing into my spine. Hunter turns, and suddenly he’s before me, his arms on either side of me, palms flat against the counter.

I’m caged between the solid granite behind me and the solid wall of his chest before me.

His eyes drop to my lips, and an unintentional reaction makes me bite my lower lip nervously.

I shut my eyes, crushed by his closeness, by the heat spreading out from his body, by the slight scent of his cologne mingling with the smell of breakfast cooking.

“Mommy?”

Caesar’s small voice cuts through the suspense like a knife. My eyes fly open to see my son standing at the far end of the dining table, his stuffed dinosaur wrapped tightly in his arms.

His blue eyes….so like Hunter’s…wide with curiosity.

-HUNTER-

The boy’s voice jolts me back to reality. I step away from Celine immediately, putting distance between us.

Caesar stands watching us, head tilted in that curious way children have when they sense something they won’t quite understand.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, my voico rougher than I intended. “You’re up early.”

Caesar approaches cautiously, his dinosaur.. Mr. Bones, I remember him calling it…clutched to his chest like a shield.

“I’m hungry,” he says, his gaze moving between Celine and me, assessing in a way that seems far too sharp for a three–year–old.

“I’m making breakfast,” Celine says, her yoice slightly breathless. She moves away from me, toward her son, smoothing down his tousled curls.

“Would

you

like some eggs and toast too?”

Caesar nods, then looks up at me. “Are you eating with us, Mr. Hunter?”

3/6

Chapter 48

The question catches me off guard. I glance at Celine, whose expression is carefully neutral now, all traces of our moment erased

“I should eat in my office,” I begin, but Caesar’s face falls slightly.

“Oh,” he says, disappointment evident in that single syllable. “I wanted to show you my drawing,”

Something twists in my chest–an unfamiliar feeling that I can’t quite name. “You made a drawing?”

He nods eagerly. “Of dinosaurs. Like Mr. Bones.”

Before I can respond, Caesar walks to the table and climbs onto a chair, placing his stuffed dinosaur beside him. He looks back at me expectantly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for me to join him.

I hesitate, then take a seat across from him. “Let me see this drawing, then.”

Caesar beams, then looks to Celine. “Mommy, can you get my drawing? It’s on the bed.”

Celine seems frozen for a moment, caught between finishing breakfast and her son’s request. The eggs sizzle in the pan. demanding attention.

“I’ll get it,” thear myself say, rising from the chair.

Both Celine and Caesar stare at me with matching expressions of surprise.

“You don’t have to-” Celine begins.

“It’s fine,” I cut her off. “Watch the eggs. They’re burning.”

In

She turns back to the stove with a gasp, and I make my way to the staff quarters, wondering what the hell I’m doing.

The staff apartment is small but surprisingly neat. Toys are organized in colorful bins, and books are stacked on a small shell

On the bed lies a sheet of paper covered in colorful scribbles that vaguely resemble dinosaurs–or maybe horses, it’s hard to tell

As I pick it up, my gaze catches on a framed photograph on the nightstand. Celine, much younger, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, her face glowing as she holds a newborn Caesar,

The hospital bracelet is still visible on her wrist. She looks exhausted but radiantly happy, staring down at her son with such pure love that it makes my chest ache.

I quickly turn away, drawing in hand, and return to the kitchen.

Caesar’s face lights up when he sees me with his artwork. “Do you like it?” he asks eagerly.

I study the chaotic lines and splashes of colos “It’s very… creative,” I say, earning a giggle from the boy.

*This one is T–Rex,” he explains, pointing to a red scribble. “And this is you.”

My brow furrows as I lean closer. “Me?”

Caesar nods solemnly. “The big one protecting the little ones.”

I glance up to find Celine watching us, a plate of perfectly scrambled eggs in her hands, her expression unreadable.

4/6

Chapter 48

“Breakfast is ready,” she says solily

As she sets three plates on the table…one for Caesar, one for herself, and one for me…I realize I’ve somehow been drawn into this domestic scene against my will,

Or perhaps not entirely against my will, which is even more concerning

Caesar chatters happily about dinosaurs as we eat, seemingly ignorant of the tension between Celine and me.

Whenever our eyes meet over his head, something electric passes between us–something that makes me look away first.

The eggs are perfect–Ruffy, and seasoned just right.

The toast was golden, the fruit fresh and sweet. It’s a simple meal, nothing like the elaborate breakfasts prepared by professionals at the finest hotels and restaurants where I usually dine.

Yet somehow, it tastes better than anything I can remember.

“More juice please, Mr. Hunter,” Caesar says, holding out his empty cup.

I reach for the pitcher, but Celine is faster.

“I’ve got it,” she says, her fingers brushing mine as she takes the pitcher.

Another touch. Another jolt of awareness.

Caesar watches us with those piercing blue eyes….eyes so like my own…and for a moment, a wild thought crosses my mind. A possibility I’ve been trying to deny since I first saw the boy,

But that’s impossible.

Isn’t it?

“Mr. Hunter,” Caesar says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Do you like dinosaurs too?”

I set down my fork, giving the question more consideration than it probably deserves. “I don’t know much about them,” I admit

“Maybe you could teach me sometime.”

The smile that spreads across his small face is like sunshine breaking through clouds. “Really? I know lots about dinosaurs!”

“Caesar,” Celine interjects, her tone gentle but firm. “Mr. Reid is very busy. He has important work to do.”

But as I look at the boy’s eager face, at his blue eyes so full of hope, I find myself saying, “I’m not that busy.”

And the startled look Celine gives me suggests this might be the first time she’s ever heard those words from my lips

It might be the first time I’ve ever meant them.

5/6