Chapter 538
Chapter 537:
“Jocelyn?” His voice was a harsh, ragged rasp. He dropped the whiskey glass. It hit the thick rug with a dull thud and rolled away.
He grabbed her shoulders with both hands, gripping her with desperate, bruising force, and pulled her flush against his chest, burying his face in her hair. “What are you doing here? Is it the retreat? Did something happen? Did someone hurt you p>
Jocelyn leaned back just enough to look into his frantic eyes. “I saw Chloe,” she said, her voice eerily calm.
The blood drained from Gaston’s face.
His hands went slack on her shoulders. The warmth in his eyes died, replaced by a stark, naked terror. He took a half-step backward, instinctively putting distance between them. He thought she knew. He thought she had come to look the monster in the eye before she left him forever.
“Jocelyn,” Gaston choked out, his chest heaving. “I can explain. I did what I had to do. I was selfish, I was insane — but I couldn’t let you p>
𝖸ou𝗋 n𝘦𝘅𝘵 𝖿a𝘃о𝘳𝗂𝘵𝘦 𝗿е𝘢𝘥 iѕ оո 𝗀а𝗅𝗇𝘰𝘃е𝗅ѕ.𝘤о𝘮
She didn’t let him finish.
Jocelyn stepped forward, closing the gap. She grabbed the lapels of his shirt in both fists and slammed him back against the heavy glass of the window. Then she stretched up on her tiptoes and crashed her mouth against his.
The kiss was aggressive and messy, tasting of salt and whiskey. She kissed him with all the fierce, protective fury she possessed, forcing every ounce of her acceptance into it.
Gaston froze for one second, his mind short-circuiting. Then, with a guttural groan, his arms wrapped around her like steel bands, crushing her against him. He kissed her back with the desperation of a drowning man finding air.
When they finally broke apart, both were panting, their foreheads resting against each other.
“I know everything,” Jocelyn whispered fiercely, her hands cupping his jaw. “I know about the buyouts. I know about the isolation. I know about the PTSD. I know you built a cage around me p>
Gaston closed his eyes, a look of pure agony crossing his features.
“And I don’t care,” Jocelyn said, her voice ringing with absolute certainty. “I love you, Gaston. I love the broken parts. I love the dark parts. I love the monster who burned the world down to keep me warm p>
Gaston’s eyes snapped open, his pupils blown wide. He stared at her, chest heaving, trying to absorb the absolution in her words.
Jocelyn smiled — a radiant, tearful smile. She reached into the pocket of her cashmere coat, pulled out the folded paper from the clinic, smoothed it with trembling fingers, and pressed it flat against Gaston’s chest, right over his hammering heart.
“And you aren’t a monster,” she whispered. “You’re a father p>
Gaston looked down. His eyes moved across the black ink on the lab report and locked onto the bold, highlighted word: POSITIVE.
The billionaire titan of Wall Street stopped breathing entirely.
He looked at the paper. He looked at Jocelyn’s stomach. He looked back at her face. His lips parted, but no sound came out. The shock was so absolute it paralyzed him completely.