He rose from the chair with an unmistakable ease and grace. Alex.
Seconds later, he was standing by the side of her bed, half his face illumed by the faint light from the fire burning on the grate. Not like the Alex of her dreams, this Alex was solid and real, and darkly forbidding.
“Alex—Alex what are you doing here?” Charlotte barely managed to croak out the question, hot all over once again.
She could feel his silver gaze scoring her, unreadable, unwavering. After a nerve-wracking pause, he asked in a voice both chilling and calm, “When did you intend to inform me that you bore me a son?”