Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 44: We’re being recorded.

>Mallory

"Come again?" I blinked at him, sure my ears were playing tricks on me. Maybe the noise from the street messed with the sound. But no—his expression didn’t budge. He stood there, shoulders straight, eyes steady, like he really meant every word he just said.

"Let’s go to my office," he repeated, his tone even more serious now, his eyes stared straight at me and I didn’t know what to do.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. My jaw literally just hung there for a second before I snapped it shut. I waved my hands in front of him, almost hitting him in the chest with how fast I was shaking them. A weak, awkward laugh slipped out because honestly—what else was I supposed to do?

"No, no... it’s okay. Really." My head shook so fast I probably looked like a bobblehead. "I’m already married."

I know he wasn’t trying anything weird, but even if my marriage was just a contract and it doesn’t hold the same value as real marriage, the idea of going off with another man... nope. It just felt wrong somehow. Like stepping out of the boundary line with a neon sign saying "BAD IDEA." Especially after everything he’d done for me and my son. He probably won’t mind but my guilt would eat me.

"What?" His eyes widened so fast I thought they might pop out of his skull, then his brows pulled together as if I had just told him the craziest thing ever.

"You already have a husband?" He dragged his hand through his hair, roughly enough that it stuck up, all while staring at me like he needed a full minute to process the information.

He sounded like he just uttered hundred curses in his head. I can feel it.

"I see someone beat me to it, huh?" he muttered, clicking his tongue. I forced a stiff smile, lips barely moving.

He’s still going about that huh?? Is he seriously thinking about making me his wife?

We literally only met recently and our interaction was brief. It didn’t even cross my mind that he was serious about that. He probably doesn’t even know my favorite food not that my husband knows but that’s besides the point.

Then, suddenly, his gaze dropped to my hand. A smirk tugged at his lips. Before I could pull away, he grabbed my right hand and lifted it as if he was examining a product at a store.

"Then why don’t you have a wedding ring?" he asked, squinting at my bare finger and looking at me like he just put me in checkmate.

"What?" I jerked my head down so fast my neck cracked. I expected to see the ring there, expected the weight, the tiny pressure on my skin... but nothing. My finger was completely bare.

Huh? Why didn’t I notice it? Did I left it somewhere or did I lose it?

My breath hitched. "No way..." The words fell out as a whisper before my hand shot up to cover my mouth. "Where did it go?!"

And he was very specific—very strict—about me wearing that ring. I’m pretty sure it was on the contract but I’m not sure, all I remember was that he pointed it out.

I grabbed both sides of my hair, fingers digging into my scalp as I tried to remember everywhere I’d been. Did I wear it going out? or did I left it at home?

Ahhh! This is so frustrating!

"Hey! Are you okay?"

I shot up when it finally clicked. "I probably left it near the sink... when I went to the bathroom," I muttered to myself, wincing.

He let out a long sigh—so dramatic it yanked me out of my panic. I looked up to his direction and he had this defeated, almost offended look written all over his face.

"You could just tell me. I’m not your type," he said, voice going cold.

"Huh?"

"No! I’m serious, I just got married!" I waved my hands again, feeling my face heat up. I really didn’t want him misunderstanding anything.

"Well, that can’t be helped." He shrugged, shoulders lifting lazily. His expression relaxed again, and I finally breathed out. At least he wasn’t going to argue with me. I still didn’t understand why I was worried and explaining myself though, but it didn’t feel right.

And being accused like that still annoyed me a bit.

"But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up," he added with a playful smile.

I slapped my palm straight onto my forehead.

Yup. He looks exactly like the type who would say that.

Then suddenly, he grabbed my wrist. His fingers wrapped around it firmly, not enough to hurt but enough that I froze like a statue. The suddenness of it sent a small jolt up my arm.

"We should really be getting out of here." His voice dropped, serious enough that my heart skipped. I looked at him confused.

"W-why?" I stammered, trying to tug my wrist back, but his grip didn’t move an inch.

"Look at the black car on the right," he said quietly. "The one with its window’s half open. Don’t make it obvious."

I did what he said. I made sure I kept my face angled toward him, pretending to listen normally, but my eyes shifted to the side, scanning the street. Cars, people, then—there. A black car parked too neatly, like it was waiting. The half-open window had a small red light blinking inside.

A camera. That’s definitely a camera.

"We’re being recorded," I whispered, my brows knitted in realization.

"That’s right." His voice stayed low. "My identity isn’t public. No one will recognize me. Do you get what that means?" he asked, waiting for me to realize the gravity of the situation.

I paused, thinking. Then everything clicked at once and hit me like a bucket of cold water.

"They’re recording me?" I blurted. It would make sense since husband had just topped every chart after that wedding issue. There was a huge chance people were trying to get footage of me and worse my son. That can’t be good!

He gave a slow nod. "Exactly, that’s why we must get out of here" he replied. "I have a private entrance at my company. They won’t be able to follow you inside." he added, patiently waiting for my answer.

I bit my lip, unsure what to do. Then I glanced at my son—still playing on his tablet, swinging his legs like nothing in the world could bother him. If his face got caught on camera... it’d be a nightmare after our agreement ended. I’m not sure we were still be able to live a normal life after that.

I exhaled shakily and sighed. "Alright, I’ll follow you."

I wasn’t risking my son’s safety. Not even a little.

He nodded, then turned to Asher and patted his head before lifting his headphones slightly. "Wanna go to uncle’s place?"

My son’s face turned to him and instantly lit up. He nodded with a bright smile.

I don’t know how he did it, but Asher was really fond of him.

"We’ll use my car. I’ll have my driver fetch yours." he said. I stood up, and nodded in agreement.

"Okay." I lifted my son into my arms. His tiny hands immediately wrapped around my neck. His cheek brushed against mine and he let out a small giggle, warm and soft.

Then we walk towards the parking space, he pressed the key and it immediately lit up. It was a tinted car, exactly what we needed.

He opened the door of the backseat and when we finally settled inside he walked to the driver’s seat.

As soon as our car moved, the black car also started.

It took about fifteen minutes to reach the place. The black car trailed us the whole time until the guards at the lobby entrance stopped it since it was reserved only for verified guest. We used the back entrance, so I still had no idea what company this even was. But based from the sheer size of the building, it was definitely big.

He parked in an empty underground lot. A few men in suits were already waiting there. One opened the door for us; the other took his keys when he tossed them without even looking, our steps echoing through the space.

We followed him to a private elevator. He pressed his thumb to the scanner and the doors slid open.

Our footsteps echoed in the hallway as we walked. Warm lights, cold marble floors, glossy walls—everything looked expensive, like the kind of place you’d clean twice a day. He stopped in front of a door. There was also another door a few steps away, probably to block direct access.

He turned the latch. A soft click, and the door opened into a large modern office. Black leather sofa, floor-to-ceiling windows showing the whole city and a red curtain, a huge desk in the center. And behind it—a logo on the wall.

"Brave Entertainment..." I muttered. My eyes widened instantly.

"Wait? It’s you?!"