Orrin

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Anja strokes my face with her fingertips.

We’re lying in her childhood bed, naked after making love for a second time. I have no doubt everyone in the house heard us, but I gave up caring. If they heard, they heard; nothing we could do to change that.

I’m impressed with the luxury of Anja’s room. Though it’s what anyone would call a typical Victorian bedroom for the wealthy, anyway.

There are wall lights with candles in them, a dark wood dresser, a desk and chair, and even a large rug on the floor with a fancy looking sofa. The window is floor to ceiling, and I see that’s because they’re French doors opening onto a balcony.

It seems to me that being the only daughter of Drake Crowley-Beaumont has its advantages.

“What do you have to tell me?”

‘As if you don’t know,’

‘Shut up, Alarick!’

‘Prick!’

“I think you already know.” Anja smiles. “We’re going to be parents, Orrin. I’m pregnant.”

I can’t keep the smile off my face. “Three boys and a girl.”

“