The months pass slowly. Every day feels longer than the last.I throw myself into my work what else is there to do? Her absence is felt in every room. She's infiltrated Villa Bijou and Saint-Égaré. Her ghost is everywhere.Every instant I'm not elbow-deep in work, I'm working out, hard, blindingly one-minded. I sail too. I spend days on the water, gliding, ignoring the island. Ignoring the memory of her laugh, her shy dark eyes, her cool hand in mine. My wall flower. Mine.No — never mine. If Georgina felt anything for me, it was destroyed the day I attacked her brother and cast her off like a forgotten line. Did I ever truly possess her, for how badly I wanted to?Work is worse than unfulfilling. It's vacant and cold, and the only time I begin to feel something again is when I remember her work — the philanthropy. I picture Georgina in the jungle, in the mountains of some cold foreign country, camera against her eye, shy smile on her lips. This was what she cared about. Charity and d
"It's Christmas," Lewis says, dejected. "What the fuck, Georgina? We live in the same city. Why don't you want to see me?"I stroke my swelling belly, attacking the expanding stretch marks with meticulous scoops of shea butter. "It's the pandemic," I say. A weak excuse, but how else can I possibly hide the pregnancy from Lewis if I see him in person? It's been hard enough over the phone. I'm due in three months, and I'm showing much more than I thought I'd be.Probably due to the fact that there isn't just one little life growing inside of me - but three."I just want to be as safe as possible."Lewis grunts in irritation. I hear all the things he doesn't say. We've spent every Christmas together since we were kids.After Mom's death, Lewis became the arbiter of all things family. He's really the only reason we have any traditions at all. But it's not a good enough reason to break my pact with myself - that I won't tell Lewis until I'm going into labor. My intense, extremely overprote
"Well," I say, straightening. "Isn't this a surprise?"Lewis Felton exhibits none of his usual pomp and circumstance. In fact, his nice jacket is rumpled, his button-down rolled to the elbow.His auburn hair is windblown, sweat wetting his temples. In fact, he looks like he ran here."The meeting is over," I inform him coldly, packing up my briefcase. "Your proxy should have your notes prepared for you."Lewis says nothing, only stares at me in the vast, empty conference room. Outside, San Francisco buzzes vividly. When the board requested I fly in for a few weeks after the New Year, I did so without question. It wasn't a difficult decision. Saint-Égaré has felt empty since August. It's felt like hell.Every inch of it makes me think of Georgina Felton, and while San Francisco is her home, at least my version of it is untouched by her laugh, her dark eyes. It doesn't stop me though, from halting on the street now and then when a banner of red-black hair swoops by. My heart catches eve
Impossible.He's a fever dream. An hallucination. Brought into real, beautiful, corporeal being by my deepest, more desperate wishes."Richard," I croak, trembling. The contractions are ravaging. In moments, the doctor says well begin pushing in earnest. A terror I didn't know would come has me around the throat, and it's good I'm lying down when I see him, or I'm sure I'd collapse. "What are you doing here?"He rushes from the doorway, catching and gripping my hand as he leans beside me. "Pregnant? Really, Ms. Felton?"I laugh, despite myself. My body is quivering with anticipation, bracing for the fight of its life. "I didn't mean to keep it from you. I mean I did, but...God, Richard, it's been so hard."Tears roll down my cheeks. I turn away to hide them, but Richard catches my cheek in his palm, turning my eyes to his."I'm here now," he whispers, and those words, the ones I've wanted and yearned for and dreamed of — those fairytale words break my heart all over again. "Georgina."
I'll never tire of that look of wonder on her face. Her dark eyes brighten and burn, caught like glowing embers. Her lips part, brows rise. It's a look of nakedness, vulnerable in awe. It makes me want to take her right there."Richard," Georgina whispers. "It's..."I smile as she takes in the beach. It's the same place we slept together that last time, before the little fantasy world we'd unwittingly built shattered beneath our feet. I remembered how she loved this place, how she stripped down and dove boldly into the moonlight waves, leaving me to follow. When I think of that night, I realize what a fool I am.How could I not have known that I was in love with her then? How could I not have known that she was in love with me?I've always been the master of my own sea. But I'm grateful, endlessly, impossibly grateful, that I did not have control over Georgina, or over what happened after I sent her from the island. I'd told myself for decades that I didn't want to be a father. That I
His tongue strokes mine, hands burning, branding as they trace my hips. Richard lies back, drawing me on top of him, his hands lifting the hem of my dress. His touch is slow and lavish. There's no hurry anymore. No desperation.Richard and l, somehow, impossibly, have all the time in the world. His rough palms rake over my thighs, and I relish the lustful surprise in his gaze when he discovers I'm wearing nothing beneath the thin, shimmering white fabric. I bite my lip, swallowing a groan as his fingers find me wet."You never stop surprising me," he growls, nipping my earlobe. I feel him stiffen beneath me, my body going electric with want. In one swift motion he has me on my back in the plush cushions, hands pulling my dress to my hips. I lie back, stretching my arms behind my head as he kisses my stomach, the faint stretch marks illustrating our story, the story of our new family.When his mouth reaches me, I can't suppress a moan.I could let him remain there all night some night s
New York's most eligible bachelor, Norman Rockwell has everything he could ever as for. Wealth, power, an insane amount of women falling at his feet, and peace of mind.But he's lacking something. One thing his heart desires so much.A baby. An heir. One he would leave everything he's worked for when he dies.He's been with so many women, and none are suitable. None have that flourish, that demeanor of being a mother. They're all after his money. After his dick.All except Sasha, his red-headed, smoking-hot, no-nonsense PA.She's the only one who could rein him in. Keep him in control. Make him smile. But she's not new to the array of beautiful women who normally grace his office. Convincing her to be his won't be easy, but he's willing to conquer her heart.No matter what it takes.She must be the mother of his child. He would have no other woman, but her.—One: Sasha."If I wanted you for more than a quick fuck, I'd have told you!"Sasha Miller winced as she heard her boss, Norman
Norman watched his dedicated PA leave the room. As always she closed the door, offering him privacy. Sasha had always intrigued him, from the first moment he'd met her over fouryears ago, to this day. She wasn't the kind of woman who tried to gain his attention. It was one of the reasons why he'd hired her.For four years they had enjoyed a professional relationship. He was the one constantly crossing the boundaries in order to get to know her. Yes, he had a bad reputation. In the past year he'd not had many partners because these feelings he had for Sasha were not going away. The reputation he'd gained as a ladies' man had been well earned. In the early years of his life he'd not cared about anything but making money and screwing women.It was what he did, leaving a trail of women behind him in his wake. Business and sex for him came hand in hand.Running a finger along his lip he stared down at the image of him opening this place. It was taken many years ago by a friend who had sin