Passion Unleashed: Carrying The President's Child

"Don't make a sound, and I won't hurt you. Blink if you understand." The voice rolled out from the back seat-low, smooth, and commanding. The calmness in his words clashed with the intensity of his stare, sharp enough to freeze the air.

A shiver crept down Roselyn White's spine. She blinked, giving in. The barrel of his gun was locked on the back of her skull. One wrong move, and she knew it'd be over.

She had just wrapped up her first Uber trip for the night when a stranger forced his way in and hijacked her ride home.

Paralyzed with fear, Roselyn sat motionless. Just a short distance away, several men in black suits advanced with drawn weapons, their expressions fierce, scanning the area like hunters closing in on prey.

"He's out alone today. This is our best shot to assassinate him. Besides, he's inhaled a high dose of that potent aphrodisiac, and it's about to take effect. He can't have gone far. If we don't find Nathan Lawson, the boss will make us disappear down in Crocodile Bay."

As the footsteps of the group gradually faded, Roselyn glanced up at the rearview mirror. The man in the back seat had an unusual flush on his face. He was clearly Nathan-the target they were after.

His name sounded familiar to her. She felt like she had heard it somewhere before.

"Don't try anything funny. Start the car," Nathan said, as if reading Roselyn's thoughts. His thumb disengaged the safety, and his gaze turned sharp.

Roselyn stayed stiff, her pulse racing. The gun alone was reason enough to stay cautious.

"Look, I can give you some money instead, sir. You could book another ride, okay? My grandpa's in the ICU, and I'm just trying to make enough to help him. I've been juggling two jobs to stay afloat-and now, here you are with a gun to my head. Why is this happening to me?" Her eyes welled as she clutched at whatever shred of mercy he might still have.

Nathan sat slumped in the back, his breath uneven, his body burning from within. The aphrodisiac he'd been drugged with was tearing through his system, blurring his grip on reality.

He caught the tremor in her voice-genuine and worn. He hadn't planned to endanger anyone tonight. It had just been his mentor's birthday party, no guards, no entourage-and now, here he was, backed into a corner with no choice but to involve a stranger.

"Take me here. Fast..." he muttered, barely holding it together as he handed her the destination.

Roselyn thought to resist, but the steel of the gun pressed against her skin ended that quickly.

Her legs trembled beneath her, but with the danger thick in the air, she quickly punched in the address and pulled the car out of the underground lot, Nathan gasping in the back seat.

After months on the road, Roselyn knew the city's hotspots like the back of her hand.

But the destination on her screen was unfamiliar, far outside her usual route. Even the GPS marked it with a star-odd.

There wasn't time to dwell on it. The car followed the signal into a dense patch of forest. When she finally parked, she glanced back. "Sir, is this the place?"

Nathan slouched against the seat, still clutching the weapon like his life depended on it.

He didn't answer. With a tired sigh, she unlatched her seatbelt, stepped out, and opened the rear door. As she leaned in, fingers clamped around her wrist.

She lost her footing and fell forward, landing right on top of Nathan. An intense heat surged from his body-hot enough to feel like it might burn right through her skin.

"You should at least pay the fare," she said shakily, trying to shove him off. Her cool palm brushed against his blazing chest.

Nathan's composure had been hanging on by a thread. That one touch snapped it clean.

She wasn't oblivious. When his hand found her chin, the fire in his eyes-raw and hungry-told her exactly what he wanted.

Inside the tight, shadowy back seat, danger hung heavy, building slowly as the night breeze stirred outside.

Roselyn twisted her wrist, trying to break free, but before she could even brush the door handle, Nathan yanked her into his arms. With a sharp pivot, he shoved her back against the seat, trapping her beneath him.

"Sir, what are you doing? Please-don't do anything foolish. I don't want your fare now!" Roselyn stammered in panic as she tried to wriggle off his arms.

"I'll make it worth your time if you help me." With what little composure he still had, Nathan slid a gold bank card from his pocket and held it just above her head.

Her instincts screamed to turn him down, but the card's gleam flashed like a cruel reminder-her grandfather lying in the ICU, the hospital fees looming like a shadow. She swallowed hard and gave in.

Thankfully, Nathan was unnervingly attractive, with a face so refined it looked sculpted-easily the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on.

The heat building inside Nathan refused to stay contained. Roselyn's soft body pressed against him, feeding a hunger that snapped his restraint entirely.

Roselyn knew nothing of intimacy. Her first encounter left her with nothing but intense memories of pain.

Beneath the trees, the white sedan rocked gently under the silver glow of the moon, like a lone vessel adrift on a quiet sea.

She cried out more than once. Each time she believed he'd finished, he surged forward again, relentless in his rhythm. He didn't seem to tire.

By the final round, she couldn't even scream. Her throat had given out, raw from pleading.

Drifting between wakefulness and sleep, she vaguely heard him on the phone. But soon, sleep pulled her under.

The morning breeze slipping in through the cracked window nudged her awake.

"It hurts," she whispered, the words barely forming.

Flat on her back in the car, her aching body reminded her with brutal clarity just how unreal the night before had been-entangled in the arms of a stranger.

Snapping to attention, she remembered the card. She shot upright and scanned the back seat.

There it was. The gold card lay beside a note that read, "No password required."

Clutching the card, she sat up straight, trying to process the reality of spending the night with a stranger. She couldn't tell if she should laugh or cry.

Her phone shrilled, cutting through the silence. It was the hospital again, demanding payment.

Steeling herself, she opened the door. The moment her feet hit the ground, a jolt of pain tore through her legs, almost buckling her knees.

Grumbling Nathan's name under her breath, she limped to the driver's side, wincing with every step. She snapped on her seatbelt, tossed her phone onto the dashboard, and drove away-leaving behind the forest she never wanted to see again.

Nathan had been scheming against her since the moment he set foot in her car.

She had never encountered someone so brazen.

Back at her apartment, Roselyn showered off the night, slipped into fresh clothes, and headed straight to the hospital to settle the bill.

Thirty minutes later, feeling refreshed, she arrived at the hospital's billing counter. But as soon as she swiped the gold card Nathan had given her, the bank quickly alerted certain personnel. What she didn't know was that the card had already placed her under covert surveillance.

After making the payment, Roselyn planned to visit her grandfather. But as she stepped out of the building, a commotion ahead grabbed her attention. Three luxury cars were parked neatly in front, their distinctive license plates unmistakably identifying their owners as individuals of wealth and status.

Hoping to avoid any trouble, she intended to pass by the vehicles and head to the inpatient department.

Sebastian Brown, the President's Chief of Staff, approached Roselyn with calm, respectful composure. "Excuse me, are you Miss Roselyn White?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "I am."

"Our superior would like a word with you, Miss White. Please, come with us," Sebastian, after confirming Roselyn's identity, said.

Roselyn bristled. She didn't know this "superior" and had no interest in meeting him. But Sebastian, already anticipating her refusal, held out his phone. On screen was security footage of her using the bank card.

"If you want to see your grandfather again, you'll get in the car. Otherwise, I'll have to report you for theft. And if you're charged, well, it could be a long time before you're allowed near him again," Sebastian said, his smile still intact.

Roselyn didn't need more explanation. Her freedom-and her grandfather-hung in the balance.

Nathan's promise echoed in her memory. Her chest burned with a mix of shame and fury.

Roselyn withdrew the bank card, holding it up with quiet defiance. "Let me make this clear first-the card was given to me. I didn't steal it. I'll come with you, but only because I want to see your boss for myself. Who does he think he is, threatening me and telling me what to do?"

Sebastian didn't bother responding. Instead, he flicked his hand, prompting the bodyguard to step forward and open the car door with polished precision.

"Miss White, whether you stole that card or simply stumbled upon it, my boss will hear your explanation himself." Sebastian guided her into the car and shut the door behind her.

Roselyn sat inside, her heart uneasy and full of dread about what lay ahead.

She had no sense of how long the ride lasted before the car eased to a stop. As she stepped out, the sight of the sprawling estate struck her silent, its grand architecture momentarily stunning her. The mansion towered before her, easily a thousand times larger than the modest apartment she rented.

Roselyn paused at the doorway, uncertain about stepping inside, when a maid in uniform came up to her.

"Follow me," she said, her tone edged with arrogance, before turning ahead.

Even a standard maid role in this upscale household demanded a degree from a prestigious university. In this place, maids weren't just hired to cook and clean-they were expected to bring a solid educational background with them.

It was Roselyn's first time inside a home so elaborately designed. Even the ceiling of the greenhouse shimmered with extravagant luxury.

In a guest room on the ground floor, several maids dressed in black and white circled Roselyn.

She recoiled, panic flaring. "What are you doing? You don't need to strip me just to get the card back."

The maids escorted Roselyn into an opulent bathroom, where even the mirror frames, faucets, and showerheads gleamed with solid gold.

"Before you see our boss, you need to have a bath and let us check your body. If you're hiding anything, it'll only cause trouble," said the same maid who'd guided her in.

"What kind of absurd rule is this? Is your boss supposed to be the President or what? Do I seriously have to be bathed and searched just to see him?" Roselyn objected, but in her dazed state, they forcefully pushed her into the bath.

The water was warm, held at a perfect temperature, and a faint scent of luxurious essential oil lingered in the air.

Roselyn's mind drifted, wondering just who this "boss" could be.

Once the maids left, she hesitated before removing her underwear. At first, she felt a pang of shyness, but the soothing warmth of the water, infused with the calming scent of oil, soon eased her tension. She leaned back, her body sinking into the bath, and exhaled deeply in satisfaction.

Her thoughts wandered. Could the man from the previous night have given her a stolen bank card? And now, the rightful owner had come to make trouble for her. But what kind of remarkable person could call a castle like this home?

When the bath ended, the maids returned, draping her in the latest haute couture dress, applying a subtle touch of makeup, and styling her hair simply but elegantly.

Roselyn watched in confusion. She had come here only to return the card-why were they so focused on her appearance?

"Our boss has arrived. Miss White, please come with me," a middle-aged butler said, his tone calm and polite as he ushered Roselyn out of the room.

Her heart quickened as she followed him down the stairs. The idea of an unknown man demanding the bank card, the maids using the bath as a pretext to search her, and then fussing over her makeup and hair-each step felt less like confronting a "thief" and more like a deliberate act of humiliation.

She stepped into the courtyard, where a line of luxury cars gleamed in the sunlight. From the first car, a tall figure emerged, his silhouette cutting a sharp contrast against the light. His long legs, clad in tailored suit pants, and the three-piece suit he wore added to his aura of distinction and aloofness.

As the man got closer, Roselyn was able to see his face properly at last.

"It's you," she said, her voice filled with surprise.