The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Chapter 150

Chapter 150: Old Feelings Die Hard

Sean POV

I stood frozen in the doorway of my Four Seasons penthouse suite, watching Angela storm away without a word. The elevator doors slid shut on her retreating figure, leaving confusion swirling in my mind.

What the hell just happened?

One minute we were dissecting investment proposals, the next she was bolting like I'd set the room on fire.

Her sudden shift gnawed at me. Unless... Had Christopher Blake gotten to her? The thought ignited a blaze of anger in my chest, my hands curling into fists.

No one meddled in my affairs-and Angela, despite our tangled history, was still mine to handle. This wasn't over.

My lips pressed into a hard line as I strode toward the elevator, determined to catch her before she slipped away. Whatever had sparked this, I'd drag the truth out of her tonight.

My phone buzzed relentlessly in my pocket, halting my pursuit. I yanked it out, answering with a sharp,

"What?"-my voice a blade of cold authority.

Silence stretched for a beat before a tentative female voice broke through.

"Sean, it's me."

"Christina." Not a question-a fact.

"Yes. You sound upset. Is something wrong?" Her tone softened. "I've been calling, but you didn't answer."

My mind sharpened instantly. "You've been calling me repeatedly?"

twice, but when you didn't pick up, I got worried," she said, her voice syrupy. "I kept trying. You're not angry, are you? I

place. I glanced at my phone-missed calls from

seen it. Her abrupt exit clicked

I ordered,

sorry, Sean. I was

cut her off. "If something had happened, how would spamming my phone help? You'd just drain

things to deal with." I ended the call and shoved the phone back into

Wilson had just tipped her hand-she still cared. A flicker of satisfaction curled my lips. Her jealousy

spotted her instantly-her slender frame cutting through the gloom toward her

1/3

Old Feelings Die

shat with one farceful sherre, pinning het betre the

squirmed, her hands shoving

darted to whet my fingers damped her wrist, but she twisted her face empy. refusing to

gripping her chin firmly, furing her head back until her hazel eyes locked

need to talk to

breath

bolted from my suite like it was a crime scene, I said, "Was it those

"Why would I care about your phone? Your private life's got nothing to do

it?" I pressed, my thumb brushing the edge of her

too fast, her defiance

stirred at the feel of her body wriggling against me, her curves grinding into me

tightened my grip on her wrist, the other hand sliding from her chin to brace against

dropping to a possessive growl, "why'd you turn to ice up there? Don't play me for a fool,

my chest as she fought

way her body fit mine, like she was carved for me. My breath came heavier, desire