Sara focused on the spare ribs on her plate, silent throughout the lecture.
*In a year?*
The contract would have long expired by then. Who knew which woman would be fulfilling this duty for him?
She certainly didn't expect that later, back in their room, Adrian—stoic all evening—would lean against the doorframe and bring it up himself.
"Do you want one?" Those dark eyes fixed on her. "If you like kids, we can have one."
Was he joking? Testing her?
His expression gave nothing away.
"Having one is fine." Sara walked over to him, gripping his tie, her breath hitching softly. "But Mr. Harding will have to add a surcharge to our original agreement."
"Name your price."
Blunt. Businesslike.
Sara curled her lips. "Unfortunately, I'm not taking orders right now."
A child wasn't a commodity. She wanted any baby of hers to be born into a loving family. Her parents had died young, leaving her to grow up in an orphanage. No one understood the hollow ache of being unwanted better than she did.
Adrian leaned in, his hot breath fanning across her cheek. "You won't take money when it's offered? Developing new clients behind my back?"
"Husband, are you jealous?"
She only used that title on specific occasions.