I Got Pregnant By a Billionaire

Chapter 23

ZHANDER

My eyes follow Sabrinah, my wife, as she walks around the table, towards her seat. Before she could take a seat, Mr Smith, being the good boss, asked if she's feeling alright. Sabrinah's eyes met mine and I smirked. I heard her mumbles a faint "yeah." and my smirk widens. Memories of us two kissing hungrily in the bathroom still playing in my mind and I plan to have her tonight. I don't think I can sleep tonight without her beside me, on my bed.

The dinner was official when the main course was served. Then the questioning started. All questions are business related. Some about investments, innovation plan. Few of the people here are acquainted with my father in golfing so they ask how he's doing, and I told them the truth— that he's literally alive and kicking with horses in our ranch.

As the dinner continues, I can't help but throw glances at Sabrinah and Mr Smith who are now in a deep conversation. Sabrinah's attention is on her food but I know she's paying attention to what Mr Smith is telling her because she nods her head every five seconds. Mr Smith on the other hand, is busy ogling Sabrinah. I now just noticed that his seat, unlike others , is closer to Sabrinah's.  And when  Sabrinah chuckles at what he says , I can't stop the bit of jealousy. 

Without averting my eyes from them, I take a sip of my drink. In my head, I am secretly cursing Mr Smith. I imagine myself standing with darts in my hand. But instead of a dartboard, it's Mr Smith I am targeting. I would take pleasure in throwing darts one by one  onto him until  he begs to be freed but I wouldn't listen. I will keep on throwing darts at him instead until the last dart even if it would lead to his demise. The last part of my imagination is him on my feet, spewing blood, crying, begging even, to be spared. And I was laughing, hard and devilishly.

A clinking sound of glasses shakes me off my imagination of Mr Smith's demise. 

I look up just in time when Mr Smith squeezes Sabrinah's hands.

It's fine. It's not a big deal. Squeezing someone's hand is normal. I tell myself.

Is it really?

Yes. Totally normal.

I am starting to believe it but Sabrinah just has to smile at him. My brows were instantly furrowed.  Why does she have to smile at him?

I cleared my throat. Loudly. In my peripheral vision, I can see everyone , as in everyone in this room, turned their attention to me, probably wondering what's up. I don't care though. My attention is fixed in Sabrinah and Mr Smith who are now, staring at me.

Sabrinah's smile fades slightly as she notices my sudden interruption. I maintain eye contact with her, silently communicating that I want her attention back on me. Mr. Smith, sensing the tension, quickly withdraws his hand and shifts his focus to his another guest, who sits beside him. She gives me a curious glance, probably wondering why I've caused a scene.

"I apologize for the interruption," I say loudly, addressing everyone at the table. "I just wanted to propose a toast."

Sabrinah looks at me with a mix of surprise and caution. I raise my glass, catching her eye. "To new beginnings and fruitful collaborations," I announce, my voice is strong and clear.

Others follow suit, raising their glasses in response to my toast. Mr. Smith nods politely, his expression unreadable. I return his nod with a tight smile, keeping my eyes locked on Sabrinah. She raises her glass hesitantly, meeting my gaze with uncertainty.

As we lower our glasses, I feel a surge of determination. I need to remind Sabrinah of what we once had, before everything went wrong. Tonight, I won't let Mr. Smith's presence distracts her or intimidates me. I'll show her that I still care deeply, that despite everything, my feelings for her haven't changed.

Throughout the remainder of the dinner, I make a point to engage Sabrinah in conversation whenever possible. I steer discussions towards topics she's interested in, subtly reminding her of our shared history and inside jokes. Occasionally, I catch Mr. Smith observing us, but I ignore his presence, focusing solely on Sabrinah.

When dessert arrives, Sabrinah excuses herself to visit the restroom again. I watch her leave with a pang of concern, wondering if my earlier outburst upset her. I glance at Mr. Smith, who raises an eyebrow inquisitively.

"She's just taking a moment," I explain tersely, my tone brooking no argument. Mr. Smith nods understandingly, though his expression remains guarded.

Once Sabrinah returns, I make an effort to lighten the mood. I tell her a funny story about how Ellie cries and curses her for leaving but still apologizes afterwards  every time she gets drunk hoping to evoke a smile from her. To my relief, she laughs softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. It's a fleeting moment of warmth between us, a reminder of the connection we once shared.

As the dinner draws to a close, I feel a mix of emotions. Part of me is elated to have reconnected with Sabrinah, however briefly. Another part of me is anxious about what comes next—whether Sabrinah will be willing to give us another chance.

After the final course is served, Mr. Smith stands to make a closing remark. He thanks everyone for attending and emphasizes the importance of collaboration and mutual respect in business. I listen politely, though my mind is elsewhere, focused on Sabrinah and the unresolved tension between us.

Once the dinner concludes, I wait for a perfect moment to steal Sabrinah from Mr. Smith who is engaged in conversation with other guests. I wanted to talk to her privately. I have a lot of questions for her about the past two years . How she'd been and how long is she gonna stay here. Questions that I should've asked when I had a private moment with her but hadn't because I'm occupied with kissing her and being jealous.

On my way approaching Sabrinah, a waiter stopped me, blocking my view of Sabrinah."Sir, a gorgeous lady left this note for you." He said as he hands me a small piece of paper with a number on it. I look past his shoulder just in time when Sabrinah stops and looks at me in the door. Her eyes look down at the small piece of paper and then at me as if saying something. She's grinning. Then it clicks to me. It's her note for me. Her new number and address. She's giving me her new number and her home address. She wants me to call her. She wants to be with me much as I want to be with her.

We're on the same page now.

I thanked the waiter and took the note from his hands. My eyes again find Sabrinah, now seated in the passenger seat, next to Mr Smith's driver. Sabrinah is still staring at me so I raised her note up for her to see and then I winked at her.

I'll see you tonight, my lovely wife.