Yes, I Have a Child with the Villain

The business partner with Caroline Whitman also saw Adrian Grant, a pleasant surprise.

In just six months, Adrian Grant had successfully established himself at the Grant Group. Nowadays, everyone knew his name.

"President Grant, I didn’t expect to see you here. It’s a pleasure."

The two men shook hands politely.

Adrian Grant’s gaze immediately fell upon Caroline Whitman.

Two hours ago, he never would have thought he’d run into her here.

His thin lips pressed together. Just as he was about to speak, Caroline Whitman raised her hand first, her tone distant yet polite. "President Grant, hello."

Adrian Grant’s eyes darkened slightly. His gaze unconsciously lowered, falling to the fair, delicate hand she had extended.

His eyes swept over her fingertips and the base of her fingers, clearly seeing that her slender, pale middle finger was completely bare. The ring he had placed on it was nowhere to be seen.

The warmth in his eyes instantly cooled. A hint of barely perceptible gloom and stiffness settled over his features.

"Hello."

Adrian Grant’s voice was neutral. He deliberately used his other hand, slowly covering her palm with his.

Caroline had intended to just go through the motions, give a polite, brief handshake, and immediately pull her hand back.

But for some reason, Adrian Grant’s palm suddenly tightened, holding her hand firmly and refusing to let go.

Caroline glanced up in surprise and shot him a glare, a hint of coquettish displeasure in her eyes.

Only then did Adrian Grant slowly relax his grip. But as he let go, his thumb took the opportunity to brush lightly and imperceptibly against the webbing of her hand for a moment.

Caroline: "..."

’She was getting a little scared of this creep now.’

She pulled her hand back and almost instinctively glanced at the others. Only when she saw they hadn’t noticed the small detail did she relax.

Her gaze shifted, unintentionally drifting down to land on Adrian Grant’s left hand with its well-defined knuckles.

She then noticed that the ring she had put on his finger that day was still there, steady and conspicuous.

Caroline paused, her gaze freezing for a moment before she slowly looked up to meet Adrian Grant’s completely undisguised stare.

She finally looked away, feeling a little guilty.

’It seemed she was the only one who hadn’t worn her ring.’

’No wonder Adrian Grant’s aura had felt off just now.’

Adrian Grant’s gaze on her was so direct that the business partner beside them grew curious.

"President Grant, do you two know each other?"

Caroline smiled. "Yes, we do. I’ve had the good fortune of working with President Grant before."

Adrian Grant’s gaze swept over her deeply before he followed her lead with a simple "Mm."

"We have indeed worked together," he said.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they played a few holes of golf.

Whatever Caroline had said at noon about not being able to have dinner together was now completely off the table.

Adrian Grant suddenly had all the time in the world this afternoon.

The business partner tentatively suggested they have dinner together that evening, not expecting Adrian Grant to actually agree.

The dinner was set in a private room on the third floor of the clubhouse.

The atmosphere during the meal was quite lively. Everyone was perceptive enough to see that Adrian Grant was willing to grace them with his presence, so they didn’t rush to force the conversation toward business.

Caroline sat diagonally across from Adrian Grant, serving herself food, clinking glasses, and making conversation—all while maintaining the decorum expected of a representative from the Whitman Group.

But whenever she chanced to look up, she would meet Adrian Grant’s gaze.

He didn’t look at her that often, but each time he did, his gaze landed pointedly on her face and hands.

Most importantly, his stare was unwavering and direct, so brazen it made Caroline uncomfortable.

’Can’t this guy control his gaze?’

Caroline took out her phone and secretly sent him a text, telling him to rein in his staring.

But the man, as if on purpose, didn’t even look at his phone.

Midway through the dinner, Caroline got up to go to the restroom.

She walked to the end of the hallway, pushed open the restroom door, washed her hands, reapplied her lipstick in the mirror, and tidied her hair.

The beautiful woman in the mirror looked composed, save for a faint, barely perceptible blush on her earlobes.

"Pathetic. All it takes is a few extra glances from him and you get this flustered," Caroline chided her own cowardice.

After composing herself, she pushed the door open and left. Just as she rounded a corner in the hallway, a hand seized her wrist.

The grip wasn’t strong, but it was precise and swift.

Before Caroline could react, she was pulled sideways, taking two steps back until her back was gently pressed against the wall.

This section of the hallway happened to be a blind spot for the security cameras. Beside them was a potted plant half a person’s height, its lush leaves conveniently hiding most of their figures.

Just as Caroline was about to instinctively fight back, she saw her assailant.

Adrian Grant.

He smelled faintly of alcohol, not much, just enough to mix with his crisp, woody cologne, enveloping her completely.

"What are you doi—"

The rest of her words were smothered by his.

The kiss was urgent and heavy, carrying all the frustration he had suppressed throughout the afternoon.

As Adrian Grant lowered his head, that same mix of alcohol and crisp, woody fragrance washed over Caroline.

His breath touched her lips first, followed by his lips themselves—warm, carrying the slightly astringent aroma of red wine as they pressed down firmly on hers.

Caroline’s back instantly went rigid.

Her first instinct was to push him away.

Normally, she would have been able to.

But as her palm rested against his chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart through his shirt, thumping against her hand...

Caroline found she couldn’t push him away anymore.

"..."

Not until the faint sound of a waiter walking down the other end of the hall, accompanied by the muffled rumble of a cart’s wheels over the carpet, reached them.

Caroline instantly tensed up so much her toes curled.

This time, she could push him away.

Adrian Grant was pushed back half an inch, his breath still mingling with hers. From behind his glasses, his deep, dark eyes stared at her, filled with an indescribable emotion.

"Are you crazy?" Caroline hissed, her breath unsteady. "What if someone sees—"

"So what if they see? It’s not like we’re having an illicit affair."

Adrian Grant’s voice was a note lower than usual, laced with a certain languor and stubbornness.

His hand was still tangled in the hair at the back of her head, the pad of his thumb stroking her silky strands.

"Caroline Whitman."

The sudden use of her full name made Caroline’s heart skip a beat.

"What is it?"

"You haven’t looked at me all night."

"..."

’That was it? That was the reason he came out here to kiss her?’

’Caroline wanted to say that she had been looking, otherwise how would she have known he was staring at her the whole time?’

She opened her mouth. "I did look."

"But you never once looked me in the eye. You were avoiding my gaze," Adrian Grant said, his tone holding a faint, almost wounded, emotion.

Caroline heard it.

She was inexplicably reminded of the pouty look that little brat Ryan Grant got when he felt wronged. All she could say was, when it came to certain inherited traits, father and son were definitely cut from the same cloth.

"..."

Adrian Grant was telling the truth, and Caroline couldn’t refute it.

She had indeed been deliberately avoiding his gaze.

It wasn’t because she didn’t want to look at him; on the contrary, it was because she cared too much.

She cared so much that she was afraid that if she looked at him a few too many times, if their eyes met, she would give something away in front of their business partner.

She was afraid of losing control of her expression, afraid that the guilty yet sweet feeling would spill out of her eyes.

"I’m not used to it," Caroline finally said, her voice muffled. "Being in the same room with you in that kind of setting, having to pretend we’re just ordinary business partners... I’m not a very good actress."

Adrian Grant looked at her, and the fire of frustration that had been smoldering inside him all evening was mostly extinguished by her words.

"But who says you’re not a good actress?" He lowered his head, his nose brushing against hers. "On our last business trip, the way you called me ’President Grant’ in front of Chase Ford was even more natural than it was today."