Chapter 484

Chapter 483:

“It won’t flood.” He settled beside her, his weight making the leather sigh. “I had the drainage systems upgraded last month. Unannounced inspection. Three engineers. Two million dollars p>

Jocelyn laughed and leaned into his side. “Of course you did p>

She shifted to find a more comfortable position and winced. Her right shoulder had been aching for hours — a deep, persistent knot from too many hours hunched over spreadsheets and too many nights sleeping in positions that prioritized efficiency over anything resembling ergonomics.

Gaston noticed. He always noticed.

“Your shoulder,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Just stiff. Long flight, bad posture. I’m fine p>

Gaston set down his mug. He turned to face her, his knee pressing against her thigh, his hand already moving to her hip. “Lie down,” he said.

“Gaston p>

𝗦𝘁𝘰𝘳і𝘦s у𝘰𝗎 w𝗈𝗇’𝘵 𝘱u𝘵 𝘥𝗈𝘸n 𝘰n ѕ.𝖼𝗈𝘮

“On your stomach. Now p>

The command in his voice sent a flutter through her chest that had nothing to do with her shoulder and everything to do with the way he looked at her when he used that tone. She obeyed, stretching along the length of the sofa, her cheek resting on her folded arms.

She felt him move, felt the sofa shift as he knelt beside her. Then his hands were at her waist, gathering the hem of the sweater, lifting it slowly until her back was exposed to the warm cabin air.

Jocelyn tensed automatically. Old instinct. Old fear of being seen, being judged, being found wanting.

“Relax,” Gaston murmured. His palm settled against her shoulder blade — warm, broad, impossibly gentle. “Breathe p>

She breathed. His thumb found the knot at the base of her neck, the place where all her tension lived, and pressed into it.

Jocelyn made a sound she hadn’t intended to make — something between a gasp and a moan. His fingers were strong and precise, working with an anatomical knowledge that seemed impossible for a man whose primary expertise was dismantling companies.

“Where did you learn this?” she asked, her voice muffled against her arms, aiming for lightness. “Don’t tell me you replaced all your Page Six appearances with massage therapists p>

Gaston’s hands paused. She felt him lean closer, his breath warm against the nape of her neck.

“I’ve been preparing,” he said, his voice a low vibration against her skin.

Jocelyn blinked, trying to focus through the haze his fingers were creating. “Preparing for what p>

His hands resumed their work, moving down her spine with devastating precision, finding places she hadn’t known were tight, releasing tension she hadn’t known she was carrying.

“For you. For us.” His voice was conversational, as though he were discussing market trends rather than the fundamental reorganization of their entire future. “When you’re pregnant. The third trimester, especially. The back pain. The sciatica. The leg cramps at night p>

His hands moved to her lower back and pressed with exactly the right amount of force. Jocelyn felt her hips arch involuntarily toward his touch.