The Billionaire's Secret Quartet

Chapter 1422
Hertha’s heart pounded like a drum solo as she whipped her head around. At the playground, there was a scene sweet enough
to be painted on a postcard: a toddler was cautiously climbing the steps to the slide, with Bridget hovering anxiously like a
protective hen, her head bowed, hands ready to catch the little one at the slightest wobble.
Perched at the top of the slide was another little nugget of cuteness, Hertha’s son, Julian, prepped and primed for the thrill of the
descent. His gaze was locked onto the spot where Hertha stood. Just one focused look and he’d spot her for sure.
At that realization, Hertha gasped silently and averted her face, striding with purpose toward Alaric.
Reaching his side, she grabbed his arm instinctively and steered him away from the scene.
They sidled up beside a house, its walls serving as a shield from Julian and Helena’s sight. It was only when they were safely out
of view that Hertha’s tense heart allowed itself a timid sigh of relief.
Lifting her eyes to Alaric, she met his gaze, those narrow eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of something more flirtatious.
Their eyes met, and Hertha’s knees turned to jelly, her alarm morphing into something that fluttered like butterflies in her
stomach.
It was those very eyes, devilish and full of promise, that had made her fall head over heels for Alaric three years ago. And she
hadn’t been able to shake him since.
Now, with that same look, how in the world was she supposed to resist?
“Why are you giving me that look?‘ Hertha’s cheeks blushed a shade of pink as she glared at Alaric, half–annoyed and half–
flustered.
Was he trying to charm her again?
He was practically still engaged to Georgia, for heaven’s sake. He was off–limits, and no matter how much Hertha’s heart ached
for him, she wouldn’t let herself go there.
Besides, she constantly reminded herself to keep a distance from Alaric. She couldn’t risk ending up like Thalassa, who’d had
her children snatched away from her arms.

Her children were her Achilles‘ heel. She’d never let anyone, especially not Alaric, lay a finger on them.
No sooner had Hertha finished her thought than Alaric’s gaze slid down to his arm with a roguish smirk. “You’re already touching
me. Is it a crime if I return the favor with just a glance?”
Hertha was about to retort–something about him being shameless–when she followed his eyes. Her hand was clutching his arm,
her grip strong enough to push his sleeve up and expose his arm’s sinewy, tan lines.
Their skin touched, and the warmth from his arm mingling with hers, sending a shock wave of heat straight to her heart. It felt as
though she’d grabbed a heated iron, and she jerked her hand away with a jolt.
Avoiding his gaze, she stammered, “Touching? That wasn’t touching. I was just... pulling you out of the way.”
“What’s got you so riled up that you need to pull me away? Is there something over by the kiddie park you don’t want me to
see?” Alaric’s curiosity piqued as he made to peer around the house toward the playground.
Hertha’s heart leapt into her throat, the fear of Alaric spotting her kids kicking in. She reached out and yanked on his collar,
pulling him back toward her.
Her movement was both swift and forceful, and it sent Alari