As Catherine rose from her seat and made her way to the door, she felt Shawn’s eyes on her. A part of her wanted to believe and trust him, while another part thought he just wanted to convince her otherwise so she could keep quiet about the scandal that Elizabeth had been telling the media about him. Those scandals obviously weren't even half the truth, and their multi-billion-dollar conglomerates were not on the verge of bankruptcy amid the pandemic. And yes, she was expecting him to tell her the truth about Elizabeth's blackmailing him, not just because his grandfather wanted him to settle soon. She was just waiting for him to open up to her. Not that she was expecting too much, but anyway, she was already married to him, so why not just go with the flow until she could give him a divorce? So Catherine, stop scowling, be a dear, and suck it up, she thought to herself. Oh, and then there is the third part that wants to just kiss him... Feel the warmth of his embrace. feel him buri
At ten o'clock the next morning, Catherine was awakened and ushered by Eddie to the living room, where she asked for a small breakfast. Arriving in the grand living room, Catherine Brown, soon to be Catherine Richmond, was one of those obnoxiously attractive women who turned every head when she walked into a room. She had curly, glossy blonde hair, bottomless, deep cobalt eyes, and a perfect body that showed no signs of stress as she sauntered down the stairs. If they didn’t know her, they probably hated her. Or, at the very least, die of jealousy. And not only was she remarkable, but she was about to get married to one of the richest men in London. Jane thought that some people were just born lucky. "Oh, Catherine, what the hell happened to your eyes? You look dead. Where is the makeup artist? Cover that eye-bag girl." "They are on the way. I'm too tired and hungry to wait. I could use a fucking sandwich now," she replied as she yawned and looked around. "Here, girly, take this coo
At five o'clock, Catherine was pacing her room. She had her wedding dress on; Chelsea and Jane were still in the living room with their hair and make-up, repeating the episode of so many complaints. She kept on pacing, except for the veil that would go on at the last minute. She was so committed to her pacing that she didn't notice Dave come into the room. Finally, he spoke. "Sis, are you OK?" She ignored him. Of course, she wasn't okay. Her mind was nowhere near sane. She heard him say again, "Come on, sis, calm down. You're scouring a hole in the carpet. Relax, you are so tense." She sighed. “I'm just so nervous. I... I did what you asked. I took a pregnancy test, and it's positive. Oh, God. What am I supposed to do now?" She stepped as fast as she could in the restrictive dress and wrapped her arms around her brother, hugging him tightly. "I don't know what to do now… are you mad at me?" "Of course not! But did you tell him?" Dave asked and let her sit at the edge of the bed.
Thirty minutes later, Shawn shook his head, trying to forget what Dave said before he went to the door. He decided to evaluate the reception at the ballroom instead. There was, at least, a bartender in the mini-bar behind the pink and white garland-covered area. He thought that the more he needed to have another drink, the more confused he got. Looking at the grandeur of the reception, he sighed and signalled a drink to the bartender. He sat at the white table and looked at the expensive flowers and sweet-scented candles. The bartender glanced up at him, then went back to his duties after giving him his drink and continuing his conversation with the man in a dark suit sitting on a stool at the minibar, drinking. Shawn saw no waitress. Everyone was busy in the reception main ballroom, but obviously someone had waited on the men in the booth, so he figured the waitress would be right back or the bartender would double and wait tables too. He looked up as someone cleared their throat n
Since she was a child, Elizabeth Grant had known she would be the richest, most popular, and best-known among her group of privileged friends. Young Elizabeth had never had cause to ponder her own importance. Her early years had been a young girl’s perfection, right from the very day of her birth. It was true that Elizabeth was the heir to an old and affluent nobility, but unlike most other lordly families, her parents, Lord and Lady Grant, were an odd couple. Married without love, they hated each other to death. Both were resentful, rude, and selfish. They saw their daughter’s birth not as the arrival of an heir but rather as that of a child who would save their already failing business and wealth. And so there were celebrations, fêtes, and festivities other than those of a mother and father staring in wonderment at their new daughter. The Grants were young parents—Edward was barely twenty-two and Vivian had just turned twenty—but they were practical, ambitious, and strong, and the
Shawn and Catherine were on edge a week later, after their extravagant wedding; they slept separately, ignored each other, and rarely spoke except during office hours. Catherine was fine with it; at least she wouldn't have to hide her situation from him. Thankfully, she had been having mild morning sickness. Catherine sighed. Today it was Monday morning, and Shawn had been swearing and yelling at his laptop while doing a Zoom meeting. Yet she looked at her husband, who was wearing his favourite white shirt and navy suit. That was a problem. She thought, not because he doesn’t look good in it. He absolutely does. For Catherine, Shawn was the hottest man in existence, and she was not saying that as his wife or because she was pregnant. Like, objectively, she didn't think a better-looking man existed. And he looked good in anything. Swim trunks, which were her favourite, sweats? He totally killed it in those khakis—he was a walking catalogue model. But when this man put on his designer s
Shawn questions his own naveté. Of course, Catherine would not allow it or agree with him if he made another contract, but his grandfather had been telling him about wanting to hold a grandchild soon, and he wanted nothing but to make the old man happy. After all, he would do everything to make him optimistic. Shawn knew he was dying, and he wanted to give him everything before his last breath. But somehow, money couldn't save a life. He had been born with a golden and silver spoon in his mouth, and even after his parents' accident, their memory had been too far away for him to remember. Still, he was more than delighted to be supervised by his grandfather. Since his parents had passed away for many years, he was never forced to economise because his grandfather owned a hefty sum of states and businesses, but everything would be useless if he couldn't give the old man his final request, right? And who was he to ignore his last wishes? Shawn sighed and explained, "Catherine, please re
Shawn sat on the couch across from his bed and stared at it hard as he swallowed another mouthful of the expensive, rich brandy. There was something wrong with him, he thought. Earlier, when he explained to Catherine about the contract, the latter did not agree yet, asking him to give her some time to think. Yes, it was hard to imagine that he would end up asking a woman to bear him a child. Under different circumstances, the ladies would be queuing to give him an heir. After all, it would be a ticket to a wealthy life, but of course, being Catherine, she didn't just ask for a decent time to think about his proposal; she had her own requests and changes. How was it too hard to make her just say yes? Well, they just have to sleep and fuck, and voila! It was not that hard, yes? But damn if he was not confused. Yes, Catherine was different in many ways. It wasn't supposed to happen to him, but it was supposed to happen fast, no questions. He was the bloody Shawn Richmond. Everyone in Fr
Another rising moan. Chelsea chanted his name. Soft. A whimper. She threw her head back again, her soft hair sliding over his arms, her face flushed with arousal. Dave loved her like that. That perfect moment before her body clamped down like a vise on his, drawing out his hot release. Her unknowing song, her heat. The look on her face. It all combined to give him a fierce, primitive satisfaction and added to the wicked pleasure swamping his own body. The first wave hit her hard, consuming her. He drove deep, his shaft stretching her tight channel. A ripple went through her, from her womb to her belly and up to her breasts. He actually felt it. Another loud moan and her entire body locked around him, a vise that clamped down so hard for a moment that he couldn’t separate pain from pleasure. She shuddered again as another wave built. He felt the contraction move through her, through him, swelling like the tide, a shock wave jolting outward from her feminine sheath, surrounding him, vib
Over the next few weeks, I take Jane and Catherine’s advice and try to turn off my brain. Dave and I started going out together as a couple. Nothing explicit is said. We don’t wear little badges, but our interactions make it obvious. Jane and I were planning to finish the design of her gown, and I started going out with them. While Dave had started his own business, Christie and her son occupied our old apartment while I went to Dave's apartment in the city.When we’re out, Dave always touches me, but not in a way that makes me feel like he’s trying to mark his territory or show off. He’s just super physical. If I’m near him, his hand is somewhere on my body. Usually his palm is glued to the top of my ass, but sometimes he brushes my hair back or dangles his fingers over my shoulder. He kisses my temples and cheeks. Not once do I feel like he’s holding me back.The most important thing is that we’re happy—way happier than I’ve felt in a long time. Which is fucking mind-boggling. If so
40The trailer is damp and dark. Two solemn-looking officers sat on a table piled high with walkie-talkies, badges, and cold cups of coffee, facing a giant monitor. The fan in the corner does little to cool things down, and the whole place is wired shut like a prison cell, with no windows and thus no connection to the outside world. It's much smaller than I expected from the outside, and I find myself frozen in place for a few moments after entering."Chelsea," Christie says behind me, placing an arm around my shoulders. "Everything will be okay, sweetheart. The orphanage will not suffer, and Dave will be alright." She appears nervous but still manages to calm me down. That is my sister, brave as ever."They’re in!" shouts one of the agents. Christie and I shuffled our way around the table. We stare earnestly at the big screen, focusing on each movement while holding our breath. Inside the building, the two actors pretending to be investors are dressed to look the part perfectly. Thei
Dave encourages me not to worry on the way back to the flat, but it is difficult. No matter how many times he assures me that we will stop Sebastian, I have my doubts. I knew Sebastian was a horrible person, but I never dreamed he was capable of such atrocities, especially after Dave showed him the photographs of the community and the orphans. What will become of my darling children?! I push back the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes. As we carefully ascend the stairs to the apartment, my fingers begin to tremble.Dave walks quietly beside me and grips my hand tightly, silently reassuring me that everything will be okay."Chelsea," he whispers as we stand face-to-face at my door. "Chelsea, look at me..." He slips a finger under my chin and lifts my head to gaze into his eyes. I finally let the tears flow, the gravity of the situation too strong to overcome.Chelsea, we're going to fight this. Trust me..." I sniffle and gaze into his piercing blue eyes that offer some comfort.
"Yes but not tonight, maybe tomorrow," Dave said, shifting in his heels.The thought of him leaving without any intimate contact is driving Chelsea crazy. And I may just find myself running after him. I wait with bated breath for him to continue."Actually. I booked a room for a few days at a nearby hotel. I'd really like to see you tomorrow, Chelsea. Is that’s okay? I want to talk more about us." I stare at him like a young child opening presents on Christmas morning."Sure, I would like that," I say, releasing the smile I can no longer contain. "There's a great place just down the street where we can go for lunch." He grins. "Sounds great. I'll pick you up around 11? ""Sounds good.""Okay, well, have a good night's sleep, Chelsea.""Goodnight, Dave." I closed the door behind him and leaned back against it. My heart is giddy and my hands are shaky. He wants to talk about us? As in our relationship? Now that I am face-to-face with the reality of how much I want and miss him, it scar
Christie welcomes us to the living room. As we sit on the sofa, Dave takes another long breath before speaking. "I feel like we left a lot of things unanswered the last time we saw each other. I don't think anything was cleared up in the midst of all the yelling and screaming. But first and foremost, Christie, I need to apologise for Sebastian's harsh tone toward you. I can't claim to know what he was thinking at the time, but he had no right to speak to you in that manner.""He is an asshole, Dave, and the way he treated Christie is the same way he will treat those workers in Kenya." The animosity in my voice is clear. "Listen, Chelsea, I know you’re angry." He turns away from Christie and looks back at me. "But I need you to understand that I still care about you deeply and that everything we had was real. The truth is I know all about my partner’s activities in Kenya. But I'm not as involved in it as you think. I take care of the paperwork. But it doesn’t have much to do with me.
The space is considerably more apparent now that I am alone. Christie and I don't have any furniture, food, or money. And neither of us is employed. It will take months to restore this property to its previous glitzy splendour. I have no idea how to get us back on our feet, and I am quite frightened about starting the process. Christie, I'm sure, is as well. In that case, where are they?I get up from the floor mattress and walk to the bathroom. I let the water run over my fair skin and blond hair.Despite the heat, I find the water really calming.As it rushes over my body, the water represents my freedom. It envelops me, drop by drop, freeing my confined senses and conflicting emotions. It reminds me that I have returned home and am no longer burdened by the dreadful life I had at the mansion.I hurriedly exit the shower and grab my towel. I walk on tiptoe across the white tiles, around the empty flat, to my bag in the corner. I pull on a pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and my
"Chelsea, don’t do this. You don’t know what you’re saying." I feel Dave’s strong hands around my right arm tighten. I glare up into his blue eyes. Our eyes interlock, and for a brief second, I am contained by lust. But the moment ends swiftly, and I pull my hand away, pushing him violently against the wall."Don’t you touch me!" I hurl at him. I take a large step away from him and turn back to Christie. "Come on, sister. Let’s get out of here!""I can’t, Chelsea, Sebastian is my fiancée.""So you’re choosing a man over your own sister?" I stared at her in shock."Chelsea, please don’t do this," Christie cries, her tears running wild down her face.Now is the time for me to make a quick exit. My suitcases thud on each step as I hurl them down the stairs. My sister trails behind me, upset as ever."Chelsea, wait! Please do not leave! "Just as I reach the large white double doors, I drop my suitcases and turn to face her again."Why don’t you just ask Sebastian Christie? Ask him if he’
I do not recognise my voice. It is thick with animosity. My hands are shaky and tears are threatening to spill from my eyes. Appearing to realise the seriousness of the situation, Dave turns to his colleagues. "Gentleman, please excuse me for a moment?"He gets up and strides over to me, gripping my forearm as he gently pulls me out of the room. We walk down a short corridor and into an empty office. Dave shuts the door and glares at me, anger fueling his eyes. "What the hell was that, Chelsea?!" he states, his tone biting."Explain this to me!" I half-shout, flinging the documents into his hands. "You lied about what the company is doing in Kenya. You have plans to use children? and exploit the people in an area that is too damn close to the orphanage I volunteered at. And you plan to pay the workers practically nothing!"He begins to scan the papers, his eyes darting back and forth hastily."How did you get this?!" he asks, puzzled yet still furious."What does it matter? It’s out i