PREGNANT FOR MY COLD -HEARTED BILLIONAIRE NEIGHBOR BY MELLA

CHAPTER 6: THE GILDED CAGE

Midnight didn't come with a carriage; it came with a black town car and a driver who didn't speak a single word.

I stood in the foyer of Silas Volkov’s penthouse, my single, battered suitcase looking pathetic against the white marble floors. The air up here was different, thinner, colder, smelling of expensive air filtration and the faint, lingering scent of Silas’s signature cologne. It was the scent of my surrender.

"Your quarters are through the double doors to the left," a voice rasped from the shadows of the upper gallery.

I looked up. Silas was standing at the railing, looking down at me like a gargoyle guarding a cathedral. He was back in a suit, but his tie was loosened, his top button undone. He looked exhausted, yet dangerously alert.

"My father," I said, my voice echoing in the vast space. "I need a status update. Now."

Silas descended the stairs, his movements fluid and predatory. He didn't stop until he was inches away, forcing me to tilt my head back just to meet his eyes. "He is stable. Dr. Aris is performing a second scan as we speak. You’ll have a direct video feed to his monitor on your desk. Consider it a performance incentive."

"A leash, you mean," I snapped.

A slow, dark smirk ghosted over his lips. "Call it what you like, Elara. But in this house, I provide the air you breathe. Don't forget that."

He turned on his heel, motioning for me to follow. "Unpack. Quickly. Your first shift starts in ten minutes. I have a merger in Tokyo that requires a 'delicate touch' with the data entry."

The Office of Shadows

My "quarters" were grander than my entire apartment, but I barely looked at the silk sheets or the rain-shower bathroom. I threw my hoodie onto the bed and hurried to the adjoining door, the one that led directly into his private office.

The room was bathed in the blue light of a dozen monitors. At the center of the room, two desks faced each other. One was his—massive, obsidian, cluttered with high-end tech. The other was smaller, mahogany, and placed so close to his that our knees would almost touch if we both sat at the same time.

Forced proximity wasn't just a term in a contract; it was a physical reality.

"Sit," he commanded without looking up from his screen.

I sat. On my monitor, a small window was pinned to the top right corner. It was a live feed of my father’s hospital room. I watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, the green line of his heart rate pulsing with a reassuring rhythm. Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back. I couldn't let Silas see me cry. To him, tears were just another weakness to exploit.

"The files are in the secure cloud," Silas said, his voice dropping into a professional cadence that felt like a mask. "I need you to cross-reference the shareholder names with the Volkov block list. If you see a name that flags red, I want to know why."

I began to work. For hours, the only sound in the room was the clicking of keys and the hum of the city eighty stories below. It was a strange, intimate silence. Occasionally, I would feel his gaze on me, not on my work, but on the pulse point at my neck, or the way I bit my lip when I was concentrating.

"You’re fast," he remarked around 3:00 AM. He had leaned back in his chair, his hands laced behind his head. The movement stretched the fabric of his shirt across his chest, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

"I’ve had to be," I replied, keeping my eyes on the screen. "Efficiency is the only way to survive when you don't have a safety net."

"And now you have the biggest safety net in the world," Silas murmured. "Me."

"You aren't a safety net, Silas. You're a cage."

The Near Reveal

He stood up and walked around to my side of the desk. I froze as he leaned over me, one hand resting on the back of my chair, the other on the desk, effectively pinning me in place. He was so close I could feel the heat of his body, a searing contrast to the air-conditioned chill of the room.

"Why did you do it, Elara?" he whispered.

My heart stopped. "Do what? Accept the job? You know why."

"No." He reached out, his fingers grazing the edge of my jaw, turning my face toward his. His gray eyes were like flint, sparking a sudden, violent intelligence. "The masquerade. The silver mask. The way you move through the crowd like you were born to steal from men like me."

The air left my lungs. I tried to pull away, but his grip on my jaw tightened, just enough to hold me, not enough to hurt.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, my voice a breathy tremor.

Silas leaned in closer, his nose brushing against mine. "Don't lie to me. I recognize the scent of violet and rain everywhere. I’ve smelled it in my dreams for three nights. I felt your heart racing against my chest that night, just like it’s racing now."

He let go of my jaw, but he didn't move back. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and silver.

It was a broken piece of filigree from my mask. I must have dropped it when I fled through the curtains.

"I have the data back, Silas," I whispered, the weight of the truth finally crashing down. "I haven't even looked at the files. I'll give you the drive. Just... don't hurt my father."

Silas didn't look angry. He looked... satisfied. Like a collector who had finally found the missing piece of a priceless set.

"I don't want the drive, Elara," he said, his voice a dark, velvet promise. He leaned down until his lips were a hair’s breadth from my ear. "I already have the donor list. I’ve had it the whole time."

I gasped, looking up at him in horror. "Then why? Why the contract? Why the building?"

He smirked, a look of pure, unadulterated possession. "Because the drive was never the prize. You were."

He straightened up, adjusted his cuffs, and walked back to his desk as if he hadn't just shattered my entire world. "Get back to work, Miss Vance. We have a long month ahead of us."