Knocked Up By The Billionaire Now My Ex Is Just A Guest

"You're about to turn twenty-two. I say it’s time for marriage. Don’t you think?" My father’s voice cut through the silence and clinking of silverware. Dinner at the Holts’ household was always suffocating, but tonight it pressed harder against my chest, making it difficult to breathe freely. I set my fork down slowly, as though careful movements might soften the blow I was about to give. “I’m not marrying Mason, Father.” Mason. My ex. My first boyfriend. My first love. The same Mason who’d cheated on me with my best friend from high school, leaving me humiliated a d betrayed. My father knew this, which made his insistence feel like a cruel joke. "I don’t think this is for you to decide," he replied coolly, as if he were stating a business fact and not dictating my life. "Mason cheated on me. Twice." My voice rose, sharp and trembling. "What’s there not to decide?" He didn’t even flinch. "Yes, he made a mistake. But mistakes can be worked out." A mistake? He had torn my heart out, stomped on it, and laughed in my face. "Well, I’m not willing to work things out with him. And I don’t love him," I snapped, folding my arms across my chest like a shield. My father set his fork down, leaned back in his chair, and pinned me with that cold, merciless stare that had ruled this household my entire life. "Your opinions don’t matter, Audrey. You will marry Mason." I laughed bitterly, but the sound cracked. "My opinion about how I live the rest of my life doesn’t matter? Mom—" I turned to her desperately. "Can you hear this?" "Do not drag your mother into this." His resolve was stern. "By next year, you and Mason will be married. And I’ll make sure of that." Tears blurred my vision. "Please, don’t do this. Please, I’m begging you." He picked up his fork again and resumed eating like I wasn’t crumbling right in front of him. Like I was a problem to be ignored and not his daughter. I turned to my mother one last time, praying for anything—a word, a glance, a flicker of resistance. But she avoided my eyes, her silence betraying her timidity. I pushed back from the table, standing on unsteady legs, forcing myself not to let the tears fall here. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. I wouldn’t let him see me break. Behind closed doors, my father morphed into a monster. I knew that monster. My mother knew him even better. She tolerated everything—his words, his fists, his decisions, his control. She was his puppet. And he expected me to be the same. Not anymore. By the time I reached my room, the tears were burning down my cheeks. I cried until I had no more tears left to shed, until my eyes burned and my head pounded. And I eventually succombed to the peace sleep brought me. When I woke hours later, something inside me had snapped. I didn’t want to sit in this cage another night. I wanted to feel something. Something other than impending defeat. Maybe loud music. And hopefully some alcohol. I grabbed my phone and typed into the group chat. Me: Girls, we should go out tonight. Liz: Exactly! It’s Friday night and we’re too young to not get lit! Courtney: f**k yeah! Seduction? Ellie: Yasss. And Audrey—no f*****g turtlenecks tonight. You’re not 80. Me: Shut up, Ellie. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late. ~~~~ Seduction wasn’t just any club. It was the club—the kind where only the elite were allowed in, where fortunes were spent in a night, and sins were indulged in every corner. As daughters of the wealthy, entry wasn’t a problem. The bouncers barely glanced at us before letting us inside. The bass hit first, vibrating through my bones, calling to the rebellion threatening to burst out from my being. We strutted past the stares, our dresses short, our heels sharp, and our laughter reckless. By the fourth shot, we were buzzing. By the fifth, my skin was tingling. Tonight, I wasn’t Audrey Holt, the daughter of a business mogul. I was just a girl in her youthful era—untouchable and unstoppable. We pushed into the center of the dance floor, where the music swallowed us whole. I threw my hands in the air, my hips moving with the beat, and for the first time in weeks, I laughed. Ellie pulled a ridiculous move that had us doubled over, shrieking with joy. But then— The back of my neck prickled. Someone was watching me. I turned, scanning the VIP section that was dimly lit and smelt like cigars. And there—two green eyes burned through the dark, locked on me. Unashamedly intense and possessive. When he stepped forward, my breath caught. Strong jaw, perfect nose, a face that belonged on magazine covers. But it was the eyes that awed me. They weren’t just looking at me. They were claiming me. It was a game of the prey and the hunter. Instead of fear, a thrill surged through me. My body swayed harder, hips rolling in deliberate rhythm, giving him a show. And when I glanced back, those eyes hadn’t moved. Not once. I was enjoying this. The song changed, chaos exploding around us, but my world had narrowed to that stare, those captivating green eyes. And then— A voice slid against my ear, low and heavenly. "Two truths and a lie." I froze. The voice was masculine perfection—rich velvet and commanding. My pulse raced deliciously. "One," he murmured, close enough for his breath to graze my skin, "I hate alcohol." A shiver raced down my spine. "Two, I love loud places." My lips parted, but no sound came. "And three," his lips brushed the curve of my neck, his words vibrating against me, "I want to f**k you." I gasped, heat flooding through me. Then he whispered, almost wickedly, "And that wasn’t the lie." I turned slowly, heart pounding, and there he was. Green Eyes. Taller than I imagined. Broad shoulders. Cologne clouding my senses. Beard framing lips I suddenly wanted on mine. Danger wrapped in human skin and I was eager to indulge. "Maybe," I said, forcing my voice steady, "if you asked nicely, I’d feel compelled to give in." He smirked, confidence dripping from him. "You’re not the type of girl who plays into niceties." "You don’t know me." "I want to." He leaned closer, his scent—masculine, heady, addictive—coiling around me. "All of you." His hand slid to my lower back, pulling me flush against him. My breath caught. My body responded before my brain could catch up—n*****s hard against his chest, creating a sweet electricity. My desire was building and I didn't care if it showed on my face. "Hotel Sundown?" I whispered, not able to bear it anymore. "Yes." The word was a growl, thick with need. We barely made it through the cab ride. By the time we stumbled into the suite, we were already devouring each other—clothes ripped, mouths colliding, hands desperate, body flushed against each other. We f****d everywhere—against the wall, on the couch, in the shower, tangled in sheets. It was raw, unrestrained, and consuming. Which was exactly what I wanted--no rules. Our bodies moved like we’d been made for each other. And when sleep finally claimed me, it was the deepest I’d had in months. I woke to sunlight. He was still asleep, lashes dark against his cheek. I almost let the view consume me, but I immediately snapped out of it. He was too perfect. Too dangerous. I couldn’t stay. I slipped into my clothes, left a wad of cash on the bedside table—a pathetic attempt at control—and walked out before he woke up. Better to leave now. Before I got caught in those green eyes again.