Chapter 285: No Warmth for Paige

Mrs. Palmer turned to find Paige Lawson already wearing a gentle smile. "Please take care of Grant for me. I'm rather tired and need to rest."

Her skirt fluttered gracefully as she turned and disappeared through the kitchen doorway.

Mrs. Palmer stood frozen.

The woman who usually fought to deliver hangover remedies had suddenly changed her tune.

After preparing the remedy, Mrs. Palmer carried the tray to the master bedroom.

Grant Holloway hadn't drunk much at the business dinner, but the alcohol on an empty stomach made his gut twist painfully.

He drained the remedy in one gulp.

Mrs. Palmer quietly retreated, closing the door behind her.

Grant lay back, waiting for the pain to subside.

As the discomfort faded, an unnatural heat spread through his body.

He moved to adjust the air conditioning when the door swung open.

Paige entered barefoot.

The man's slightly open collar revealed his collarbone, his cheeks flushed with intoxication.

His muscular arm rested beside him, those distinct knuckles contrasting starkly against his dark shirt—an image of restrained desire.

It reminded her of their first time.

Back then, Grant had been equally drunk, yet called out Clara Whitmore's name.

Paige's pulse quickened as her gaze lingered on his exposed chest.

She leaned in, tracing circles on his skin with her fingertips.

Grant abruptly turned away.

Paige stumbled back in shock.

Glancing at her modest nightgown, she recalled how mimicking Clara's style had initially caught Grant's attention.

She marched to the wardrobe and selected a lace nightgown with a sheer back panel.

"Who are you pretending to be?" she muttered. "You climbed into his bed the same way."

Clara had spent six years claiming Grant's heart. Paige intended to replace her permanently.

Madness flashed in her eyes as she embraced Grant from behind.

Just as her hands neared his neck, his eyes snapped open. He flung her to the floor.

Grant stared down coldly. "Even pregnant, you're this desperate. Disgusting."

His gaze shifted in revulsion—then froze.

That was Clara's nightgown.

"Did you wear her clothes that first night too?" His voice turned glacial.

Paige sat paralyzed on the floor, face bloodless.

"Answer me!" Grant gripped her chin, the pressure drawing a whimper.

Tears streamed down Paige's cheeks, but the man remained unmoved.