Chapter 900

The nausea hit Rosalind like a tidal wave the moment she opened her eyes. Morning sickness had become her cruel companion since discovering her pregnancy. A bitter taste flooded her mouth as stomach acid scorched her throat, bringing involuntary tears to her eyes.

She stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the marble countertop until her knuckles turned white. The cold water from the faucet provided momentary relief as she splashed it against her flushed face.

"Rosalind?"

The soft voice made her jump. Vivian stood in the doorway, her designer dress hugging her petite frame perfectly.

"Hey." Rosalind straightened, wiping droplets from her chin. "Did you need the bathroom?"

Vivian's glossy lips curved into a practiced smile. "Actually..." She toyed with her diamond bracelet. "You're close with Lillian's brother, right?"

The question landed like an unexpected punch. Rosalind's fingers twitched against the damp towel. "I know him, yes."

Vivian took a step closer, the scent of her Chanel perfume overpowering the mint toothpaste in the air. "Could you... do me a tiny favor?"

Rosalind tilted her head, the motion making her stomach lurch again. "What kind of favor?"

A blush crept up Vivian's neck. "Could you get me Lucian's Instagram?"

The request hung between them like a grenade with its pin pulled.

Rosalind saw it then - the way Vivian's eyes sparkled at the mention of Lucian Graves. The CEO of Quantum Innovations wasn't just Lillian's older brother. He was the kind of man who turned heads in every room - devastatingly handsome, obscenely wealthy, with a razor-sharp intellect that made him dangerous.

And apparently, Vivian Astor had set her sights on him.

Rosalind swallowed against the renewed burn in her throat. "Why not ask Lillian? He's her brother."

Vivian's manicured nails dug into Rosalind's forearm. "If she says no in front of everyone, I'll die of embarrassment." Her whisper turned pleading. "Please? Just this once?"

The weight of the unspoken pressed against Rosalind's ribs. She couldn't exactly say, "He's practically engaged to Genevieve," could she? That wasn't her secret to tell.

"Fine," Rosalind relented. "But no promises."

Vivian squealed, hugging her so tightly Rosalind feared for the baby. "You're the best!"

Steeling herself, Rosalind walked toward the kitchen where the rich aroma of garlic and herbs already filled the air. Lucian stood at the stove, his broad shoulders flexing beneath his tailored shirt as he stirred something in a pan.

For a moment, she simply watched - this man who moved through the world like a king, utterly unaware of the devastation he left in his wake.

"You going to stand there all day?" His deep voice startled her.

Lucian turned, one dark eyebrow arched. The way the morning light caught his sharp jawline should be illegal.

Rosalind cleared her throat. "Can I... have your Instagram?"

The wooden spoon stilled in his hand. Slowly, methodically, Lucian set it down. He wiped his hands on a dish towel, each movement deliberate.

When he stepped closer, Rosalind caught the intoxicating mix of his cologne and the scent of fresh basil.

"My Instagram?" His voice dropped to that dangerous octave that made her pulse stutter. "Why?"