Pregnant by the Playboy Heir

Charlotte’s POV

The hotel room felt too quiet all of a sudden. Too fancy. Maybe even a little bit dangerous. I hung there at the edge of the bed, and Jace started undoing his shirt cuffs like this was just his routine—inviting strangers into suites most people only see in movies.

Maybe that was normal for him.

City lights bled through the windows, painting everything gold and silver. The Royal Crest Hotel was all shining surfaces and soft, expensive edges. Someone polished this place every morning. And none of it matched my life.

Jace looked over at me.

“You’re nervous.”

“That obvious?”

“You’ve been twisting your fingers for the last five minutes.”

I stopped, flushed. He smirked.

“I should go,” I muttered, though I didn’t move. Neither did he. Instead, he stepped closer.

He wasn’t aggressive. He wasn’t gentle either. Just confident enough for my heart to completely betray me.

“You still can,” he said, with a low and charming voice.

That tone was steady and soft, it made every part of this feel deliberate. My mouth went dry.

“You keep saying that.”

“I don’t force women into my bed.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It should be.”

I studied him, finally. Fancy suit, watch that probably cost twice as much as my house rent. Sharp jaw, trustworthy face. But his eyes didn’t fit the rest. He looked tired. And… I don’t know, burdened.

“You look disappointed,” I blurted.

His eyebrow arched. “Disappointed?”

“In life.”

He hesitated, surprised. But then the expression vanished.

“You analyze strangers too much, Charlotte.”

“And you hide things too much.”

We were just standing there, the tension twisting up. It wasn’t just attraction anymore—it felt like both of us were right next to something dangerous and trying really hard not to notice.

My phone buzzed inside my purse. Bruce.

Of course.

I ignored him. Jace caught on.

“Persistent boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“So who is he?”

That made me laugh, sharp and bitter. “Great question.”

His eyes lingered on me. “You love him?”

I should have been able to answer. I couldn’t. And I hated how humiliating it felt, standing in a billionaire’s hotel room, unable to answer a simple question.

He noticed. Seemed interested.

He left me standing there and went to the minibar.

“You drink wine?”

“I usually go for whatever’s cheapest.”

He chuckled. “You say depressing things very casually.”

“And you ask personal questions very casually.”

Still, he poured us both a glass. I took mine, careful not to spill. Somewhere, soft music drifted through the room. It was getting harder to breathe. Because the longer this went on, the realer it all felt.

Five grand. One night. One really bad decision.

Jace went to the bed, eyes steady on me. “You keep looking at the door.”

“Maybe I’m planning my escape.”

“You would’ve left already.”

He was right, and I hated that.

“So why me?” I asked, voice low.

“You already asked.”

“And you still haven’t answered.”

He set his glass down, slow. Then, finally: “Because you looked lonely.”

That stung in a way it shouldn’t.

I glanced away. That wasn’t fair. Men like him didn’t notice loneliness in people like me.

“I’m not lonely,” I said, but it was such an obvious lie.

“You work late nights at Monarch. You looked at two grand like it would save your life.”

The shame hit right away. My cheeks burned.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“No,” he admitted. “But I know what pressure looks like.”

The room shrank around me. I folded my arms tight.

“You think money lets you read people?”

He shook his head. “Money just makes people honest.”

That stuck in my head. Way too much.

Because my mother needed treatment, rent was late, Bruce always needed something, and here I was in Room Fifty-Five for five thousand dollars.

Maybe money does make people honest.

Jace stood. This time, I didn’t back up.

That said enough.

He reached for my chin, lifted my face so I had to meet his eyes.

“You’re thinking too much.”

“That’s what you do before terrible decisions.”

He almost smiled. “Relax.”

Easy for him to say. He’d walk out of here untouched. I wouldn’t.

His thumb brushed my jaw softly—a gentle touch, which honestly kind of surprised me.

“You can stop this whenever you want.”

“Why do you keep giving me an out?”

He looked at me—really looked.

“Maybe because no one else does.”

I broke a little at that. He sounded almost honest. I didn’t have room for honesty tonight.

I should’ve ended it. Instead, I leaned up and kissed him first.

One second in—the touch, the heat, the rush—the tension just exploded. His hand found my waist, and I melted right into him. The kiss got fast, then rough, then hungry, like we were both trying to quiet something inside.

When he pulled me closer, my mind just stopped. My wine glass tumbled onto the carpet, but I didn’t care.

Jace kissed like someone trying to drown himself. I kissed him right back, same way.

His forehead pressed against mine for a moment.

“Still want to leave?”

I should’ve said yes. But I didn’t.

He pulled me to the bed. The city still glowed outside; my heart was trying to punch its way out of my ribs.

After that, everything just blurred.

Hands, breath, the slide of his shirt to the floor. I laughed nervously, but that was gone the second his mouth found my neck.

He kept glancing at me like he didn’t want to.

He acted so detached, so in control. Untouchable. But sometimes the surface cracked, just a hair. And I couldn’t help wanting to know who the hell he was underneath all that armor.

He kissed me again. Thinking stopped. The world narrowed.

He undid my shirt, and I just let him.

He lifted me and dropped me onto the bed.

Charlotte’s POV

6:34 AM

“Hey. Wake up.”

A hard nudge at my shoulder.

I groaned, tried to hide my face in the sheets—warm, unfamiliar.

“Charlotte.”

Another nudge, harder.

My eyes dragged open. Morning light sliced through the windows. That’s when I remembered everything.

Hotel suite. Twisted sheets. Jace.

I was wrapped around him. He stiffened and pulled away the instant he saw me wake.

“There we go.” He peeled himself off the bed, already grabbing for his clothes.

His phone was buzzing nonstop on the nightstand—calls, texts, reminders of another life waiting beyond this room.

I just sat there, frozen under expensive linen, trying to make sense of… well, myself.

Jace buttoned up, efficient as ever.

“You sleep like you were drugged.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

He shrugged. “No. I’m just going to be late.”

He sounded colder, some wall back in place. The warmth from last night had vanished—like it was nothing.

That… hurt.

He checked his watch, swore quietly.

“Damn it.”

“You okay?”

“My father’s called, what, fifteen times?”

The way he said “father” told me enough. Not scared—just used to it. Pressure.

He grabbed his jacket and finally turned to look at me.

Silence hung awkward and thick. Daylight made everything real. Last night was starting to look reckless instead of intoxicating.

Then he pulled out his wallet, dropped a thick stack of cash on the bed next to me.

More money than I’d ever seen.

I stared. “You said five thousand.”

“You did better than expected.”

My head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m paying extra.”

His voice was so self-assured, it should’ve pissed me off, but all I felt was mortified.

“I’m not some escort you rate after.”

He met my eyes. “You took money to sleep with me.”

Blunt. Direct. No emotion.

I started to argue. Couldn’t. He wasn’t wrong.

That made it a hundred times worse.

He watched my face for a moment. Something flickered—definitely not guilt, but discomfort, maybe. Then he looked away.

“You’ll be out by nine.” He grabbed his phone and headed for the door.

I stopped him. “You never told me your name.”

He paused, almost like he was considering an answer. Then he just smirked, didn’t even turn around.

“You don’t need it.”

Door slammed. The suite felt empty in a way that had nothing to do with size.

I sat there staring at the money forever, feeling richer and worse at the exact same time.

---

Jace’s POV

“Son, where were you?”

My father’s voice hit before I even made it past the doors of Norman Enterprises.

Staff crisscrossed the lobby—everyone frantic for the grand opening event. Press already crowding the entrance downstairs.

I hadn’t even made it through the elevator. I just muttered, “I went out.”

Edward Norman straightened his cufflinks, every move sharp.

“And you ignored all my calls?”

“I’m here.”

“That’s not the point.”

He studied me, scrutinizing every detail.

“You look tired.”

I almost laughed.

“You had me at six business dinners yesterday.”

“And today you’re the public face of the family,” he shot back. “Try not to look hungover.”

Normal father-son affection around here.

I loosened my tie a little. “Good morning to you too.”

Edward sighed. “Press is downstairs. Investors are early. And your girlfriend called the office four times looking for you.”

Right—Mallory.

My phone buzzed like someone had set an alarm for my life to get worse. I answered, walking to my office.

“Hey, baby,” Mallory barked instantly, “You disappeared all night.”

I shut the door behind me. “Good morning to you too.”

“You ignored my texts.”

“Was busy.”

“With what?”

I looked out the window for a second.

Charlotte—still in that hotel room—flashed through my head.

“We’ll talk later,” I said.

Mallory groaned, over-and-dramatic. “Unbelievable. My card declined.”

I figured that was the reason she called.

I rubbed my forehead. Honestly—it just felt so draining. For the first time in years, I didn’t want to explain anything.

Before I could respond, there was a knock.

My secretary walked in, looking nervous. “Your father said to remind you you’re giving the opening speech today.”

I blinked. “He what?”

“He’s already told the press.”

Of course he had. I kind of laughed.

Mallory was still talking on the phone, but honestly, I’d stopped listening. My mind kept drifting back to Charlotte. The way she looked at me last night, the way she moaned out my name. Like she was drowning and trying to pretend she wasn’t.

And for some reason that bugged me more than it should.