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?"

once or twice, but when you didn't pick up, I got worried," she said, her voice syrupy. "I kept

my phone-missed calls from Christina lighting up the

it. Her abrupt exit clicked into

ever call me like that again," I ordered, my tone leaving no room

was just worried something

my phone help? You'd just drain my battery when I

bigger things to deal with." I ended the call and shoved the phone back into my pocket, my

flicker of satisfaction

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

1/3

Old Feelings

I slammed it shat with one farceful sherre, pinning

squirmed, her hands shoving against my

snapped, her voice tight. Her eyes darted to whet my fingers damped her wrist, but she twisted her face

hand shot up, gripping her chin firmly, furing her head back until her

need to talk to

breath

like it was a crime scene, I said, "Was it those calls

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

my thumb brushing the edge of her lip, feeling the faint tremble there. "You

she shot back too fast,

shifted closer, my hips pinning hers against the car. My cock stirred at the feel of

other hand sliding from her chin to brace

I murmured, voice dropping to a possessive growl, "why'd you turn to ice up

Her breasts pressed against my chest as she fought to pull away,

years hadn't dulled the way her body fit mine, like she was carved for me.