Chapter 162

Dominic sensed something was off, but Vanessa's demeanor remained unchanged.

His gaze swept the room, landing on her phone peeking out from the fallen bag beside the massive bed. With a quick glance at the closed bathroom door, he strode over and picked it up.

The lock screen password was still the same. He easily accessed her WhatsApp, finding Lucien's contact. The chat was empty—no messages. He scoured her gallery, texts, and call logs, but everything appeared normal. Dominic checked every possible corner of her phone but found nothing suspicious.

Was he overreacting? Doubt clouded his mind.

Just then, the sound of running water ceased. He hastily locked the phone and slipped it back into the bag. As he turned, Vanessa emerged in her silk pajamas, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders.

"You dressed so fast?" He feigned nonchalance, pulling her into his arms. The scent of her shower gel enveloped him. "You’ll just have to take it off again soon."

Vanessa stiffened slightly. She had anticipated this the moment she stepped into the shower. It had been weeks since they’d last seen each other, and with him traveling all this way, she knew what he wanted.

But not tonight.

She couldn’t risk intimacy—not when he might discover the truth. Yet outright refusal would only fuel his suspicion. So she had prepared a countermeasure.

She tilted her neck, letting him press kisses along her skin. Just as his hands began to wander, she pulled away abruptly.

Dominic’s eyes darkened with frustration. "Vanessa," he growled, his voice laced with warning. "You’ve never turned me down before."

She pouted, feigning reluctance. "I wasn’t pregnant before."

His breath hitched. "You—you’re sure?"

She lowered her lashes, nodding shyly. One hand drifted to her stomach. "I missed my period. I took another test earlier. It’s positive."

All his anger and suspicion evaporated. He guided her to the bed, helping her sit before gently easing her onto the pillows.

"Why are you still traveling in this condition?" His voice softened with concern. "You should be resting. Are you uncomfortable? Hungry? Should I order something?"

Vanessa arched a brow. "Now you remember to ask if I’m hungry?"

"Your health comes first." He squeezed her hand. "We’ll talk later. I’ll order room service—no takeout. You need proper food."

She watched as he called the hotel kitchen, meticulously listing her preferences and dietary restrictions. His voice was tender, his attention unwavering.

Vanessa exhaled quietly, relief settling in her chest.

For now, she had bought herself time.