“That’s a beautiful sentiment, Claire. And you’re very kind for expressing it. But you’re pondering in the realm of theory, not reality. Not my reality.”She lets out a puff of air that echoes my own dismay.But I’ve spent an entire lifetime with my feet on the ground, not with my head in the clouds. Other than with the restaurant, of course.And speaking of, I add, “I need to keep my focus on my reopening. So let’s not have this conversation again.”Okay, that’s a straight-on knife to the heart.However… I have to take this stance.We say pleasant goodbyes and disconnect. I go to my suite to retrieve my laptop and run through all the final details that must be in place before we officially greet our new customers.Mitch and I regroup in the dining room, following our respite, and we work with Gwen to ensure we’re as polished as we possibly can be, that the POS system is fully functional, and both the front and back of house are primed for our debut.For our soft launch, I’d previousl
“It wasn’t Claire,” I confess. “Grayson told me.”My intent is not to toss my butler/new friend/hint of a father figure under the bus. I’m pretty sure Nick will easily comprehend that Grayson and I have grown closer and that he cares enough about me to not only share my current existence with me—but to also partake in what my future might look like. He is staying on with me, after all. And while I’m wholly flattered and deeply touched, I recognize, as well, that being near his daughter is equally important to him.It’s really a win-win for the three of us here in California.The downside is that the kid I’m going to give birth to won’t have this particularly incredible man at her beck and call, when she’s living in Europe. In some grand palace. With her father.However, the latter is a huge plus—she will have Nick. That’s significant.Therefore, in my mind, I’m chalking up Grayson’s decision to hang with me indefinitely as an invaluable, priceless bonus.Nick cuts into these thoughts,
The poking and prodding of a thorough exam are not what’s frustrating the hell out of me. Especially given that it’s so crucial Dr. Shaw be absolutely thorough.What’s got me on pins and needles is that she’s not the type of physician who nods her head (or shakes it) and mumbles, “Mm-hmm… all right, then… okay, good…” (or “not so good”). She doesn’t utter a word or give anything away. At all.So I’m hanging by my nails trying to remain calm, which is actually not working, because I can see my vitals on the monitor, and my blood pressure and my pulse are inching upward. Exponentially.Lavinia, the PA, is with us and she’s the one who’s delivering encouraging words to me in her comforting voice and assuring me, “Just a few minutes more, Bailey.”She’s also the one who’s blotting the stream of tears running down my cheeks.“Just breathe,” she quietly says.I also feel there’s a “these things happen” on the tip of her tongue, but she quashes it. She’s gotten to know me pretty well and und
I rip my glistening gaze away and it lands on the clock again. It’s just past two. He must have gotten on his plane almost immediately after we’d hung up.“Tell me it’s okay,” he whispers. “That I’m here.”The corners of my mouth quiver and I’m on the verge of major waterworks. Somehow, I force them back. Somewhat. A few drops trickle down my cheeks.I wiggle in his loose embrace and roll toward him, facing him.He whisks away the tears. “Please, don’t cry.”“I can’t help it. You really ought to be back home. With your father.”“He’s under superior care.”“So am I,” I remind him.“But you were worried… Frightened, even. I could tell.”“Yes.”There’s no sense in lying or trying to minimize the emotional trauma. And why would I? I’m not heartless.Sure, I’m attempting to not be so emotionally attached to the baby (or to Nick), but I’ve already discerned that’s inevitable. On both counts. My challenge is to contain it, within some logical box.Though not exactly at this particular moment
“Ah, the carte blanche…” I take it for what it is. Moisten my palm once more and envelope his tip with it, sort of massaging, kneading, with some pressure.I also grip his base more firmly.Then I work him fully with my hand, covering the tip when I reach it, squeezing at the root when I’m down there.His body is rigid, his thigh muscles and abs flexing. His bulging biceps twitch, and I sense he’s fighting the urge to clasp my upper arms and haul me up his body so that I’ll sweep aside the satin entwined around my legs and straddle his lap, allowing him to thrust up into me.Naturally, that is precisely what I want.But we both remain steadfast with our conviction.I, however, amp the excitement.I run my tongue along his shaft. Then close my mouth around him.I very languidly take him deep. As deep as I can. Then release him.Now, his jaw clenches. So too do my inner walls, craving to be stretched and stroked by him.I stay the course. Take him in once more. And suck. Hard.“Jesus, B
I’m especially delighted Nick has taken to mostly forsaking texting for actual phone calls.I’m particularly pleased when he times out the calls on the nights I’m home a bit earlier in the evening and slipping under the covers just as he’s waking. I get his sexy bedroom voice and he’s not opposed to talking dirty to me. And he can still make me blush, with words alone.Granted, I have the visuals to go along with his risqué murmurings. But I find it erotic that he can be so thoroughly descriptive on his end.Additionally, when he’s feeling optimistic that his father is stable (not improving, but not deteriorating as rapidly as he initially had been), Nick does, indeed, fly over for a night.Were I to reciprocate and have Claire send a plane for me every now and then—as she’s offered on Nick’s behalf—we truly would be long-distance dating.Though… I suppose we are anyway.And that makes me happy.It also makes me yearn for him even more.A double-edged sword, without doubt.Except that
I do, however, feel more than a twinge of regret and sadness when he leaves me.I try to convince myself not to be affected by this pattern.But one day, I stand out on the event deck before we open for lunch, and I’m just sort of… Dazed.The sensation is a strange one.I’m a little anxious, because it’s been nearly two weeks since Nick has swooped in to immediately take me home, to bed.I have the insistent urge to tap my toe while the thought where is he? skips through my brain.I mean, I know where he is. If he’s not calling, he’s texting and keeping me abreast of his further developing position on the throne. Only, he’s not actually sitting—he’s on the move, quite a bit. He’s interviewed a few medical specialists and has flown them in to provide additional aid to his father, whose prognosis doesn’t change, but he’s apparently experiencing more prolonged periods of lucidity and cognizance, even following along a bit better when Nick gives him updates, or just reads to him.I can te
Though the truth is, I can’t imagine him minding too much.So I shake off that panic as well.My anxiety has to be rooted in something else that’s elusive to me at the moment.Thus, I once again confirm for everyone’s benefit that I’m fine. I even sit and nap a little. Actually, I merely drift in and out, but I’m resting. And I’m not groggy when we land, following breakfast and some freshening up in the nicely appointed bathroom.As soon as my feet hit the red carpet, Claire leaps forward. As enthusiastic as she is to meet me in person (and to ascertain for herself that I’m perfectly healthy), she delicately puts her arms around me and gently hugs me.I hold onto her for a few lingering seconds—camaraderie arcs between us, yes. But also, there’s a deeper emotion. She’s practically become a sister.Tears mist my eyes over the lengths she has proven she will go for me. Not at all out of disrespect for or disobedience toward Nick and her position with him. And not entirely as an extensio
~ BAILEY ~Every time I think I can’t be more in love with this man… I fall even deeper under his spell.My arms twine around his neck and I lose myself in yet another searing kiss. His devilish tongue does wicked things to mine, sparking endless fireworks.My heart flutters and my blood sizzles through my veins.I have no clue as to how much time passes. We only briefly gasp for air here and there before we’re engaging in another scorching lip-lock. He has one hand on my ass and the other arm encircles my waist. He’s still holding the present I’ve given him, but neither of us seem to have that on our minds.My fingers thread his lush hair, and we’re pressed together so tightly, a sheath of paper couldn’t pass between us.And yet… That still doesn’t feel close enough.Damn the fact that we have to wear clothing in everyday life!I would be perfectly happy to be naked with this man twenty-four-seven. Also tangled up with him in absolute seclusion.Not a possibility at present, though.
~ BAILEY ~“I’m sorry… whhhaaat did you just say?” Claire stares at me as though I’ve grown a third eye and perhaps an extra nose.I smirk.Her expression doesn’t change. “Bailey-soon-to-be-Angelini, aka Your Majesty… With all due respect… Are. You. Shitting. Me?”Now, I laugh.She’s learned that term from me, with the correct punctuation.I snicker at her and say, “Feel free to bring the incredulity down ten notches. You and I both know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that planning a wedding in less than a month is not the hideous undertaking you’re insinuating it is, particularly for a woman of your mad skills.”The compliment does nothing to placate her.She shoots to her feet and begins to pace, partially obstructing my view of the fountain and the large pond surrounding it, which had been expeditiously “installed” while Nick and I were in California. Apparently, if I requested it, this portion of the estate—the outer perimeters of the private apartments—would be turned into a lake t
~ NICK ~How could I not request this?Other than… Well… There are the standard obstacles, of course.She’s entangled in a “should I stay, or should I go?” tug of war that involves me, a child, and a restaurant—a dream she’s had forever. One that’s significant and fulfilling, given she’s achieved it primarily on her own. What help I’ve provided is financial. She’s the true victor in this vein, with her vision, ingenuity, and initiative. With her hard work.Thus, I understand I’ve just tossed her into a new mix of uncertainty. We haven’t resolved our current situation and now I’ve gone and complicated matters to the degree that her jaw slacks, she gazes at me with wide eyes, and she’s at a complete loss for words.That’s advantageous for me, so that I can explain, “I didn’t plan that, Bailey. Not necessarily. Though… It’s been on my mind. For some time. A long time, truthfully. Even before you came here.”She blinks. I’m guessing that’s to let me know she’s heard me. She just can’t res
~ BAILEY ~Of course, I’m blown away. How can I not be?Sure, I’ve been made fully aware, at every turn, this is to be a formal event, and so I did have it in my head that no expense would be spared. However, that’s actually a vague phrase. While it’s true I can come up with some impressive dining and décor scenarios, and even went a little over-the-top with Bailey’s Clambake, I have not been sufficiently exposed to the word “excessive” in such a concentrated manner.Granted, the palace fits the term. Certainly. Though, it’s incredibly vast and spread out and not something that you take in all at once. Like, seriously, I can only process its grandeur in bits and bites.This gala, however, is in my face.There are chandeliers so beautiful, I want to weep. The one in the center of the room, hanging in the domed ceiling, is so huge, so stunning, I just can’t even… Fathom it.Coming from the gilt edges, which I have no doubt are twenty-four-karat gold (as is every fixture, I’m sure), are
~ BAILEY ~We’re trapped in some bizarre time warp where our eyes are locked and there’s an electrical current arcing between us and every second that slips by is laced with anticipation.It’s Grayson who finally breaks the ice, discreetly clearing his throat. And quietly announcing, “The limo is ready.”“Thank you, Grayson.” Nick manages to speak.He raises a hand again and his thumb skims over his bottom lip.I resist the urge to bite mine, his absent gesture being so subtly sensual. Yet I remind myself not to ruin my lipstick.He takes a couple of wide strides toward me and my breath catches. He hears it. Sees it. And there’s a spark in his grey-green irises because of it.“You picked the most striking dress of all,” he tells me.Miraculously, I’m able to reply. Albeit breathily. Like, full-on Marilyn Monroe. “It’d probably look a lot better if I wasn’t pregnant.” Not that I regret being pregnant. That’s a total no-brainer.He comprehends my unspoken sentiment and gives another sha
~ BAILEY ~I’m trying to breathe, but the gown I’m being fitted for doesn’t allow much opportunity for that. Time is of the essence today and I feel as though my entire existence is moving at the speed of light. Claire has taken over my schedule and there’s barely time to pee. Though, you know… I’m pregnant, so I must insist she build in potty breaks to avoid any sort of accident.And I won’t let her nix my daily reading with Antonio from my calendar. Unfortunately, it will be later in the morning and that will provide ample time, I’m sure, for word to reach him that I’m attending a gala with His Highness.Oh, that phrase completely curls my toes, when I actually know better—I shouldn’t let it curl my toes. Or send a rush of exhilaration through my veins. For the hour that I’ve been standing on a platform surrounded by full-length mirrors while two women work simultaneously to nip and tuck, and another one continually holds up shoes for inspection and then puts them against the dress
~ BAILEY ~Nick snickers at me.I tell him, “Don’t you dare try to separate me from lobster mac and cheese.”He carefully unravels us. Grayson assists me into the chair he’s once again pulled out.I accept the napkin. Even bounce excitedly in my seat, which pleases both men. They’re clearly convinced I’m cured of the seafood curse, whether it was a psychological manifestation, or that the peanut genuinely isn’t into fish.But the truth is, her mom can’t go long without her fix. So.To tide me over, there is a prime cut of beef with an aromatic Hollandaise sauce I’m certain Grayson would have added crab legs to if I’d previously expressed my interest in dipping my toes into the water, as it were, this evening. Or he’d have gone straight for Oscar-style.No matter. I’m instantly famished and reach for the steak knife and a fork, completely bypassing the salad he’s also delivered.Normally, he does the customary presentation of individual courses, but given the hour and how Nick and I de
~ BAILEY ~I might be building the perfect bridge.Well, maybe not totally perfect. But darn close to it.An hour of reading to Antonio leads to a half-hour of him sharing a quaint story from his childhood. One that does not involve magnificent horses and banners flying, or silver platters piled high with glorious desserts, or anything else expensive and exquisite that screams privilege. It’s simply a remembrance from when he was a small child and had wandered off in the forest during a group hunting expedition. He was alone and had panicked that he might not be able to find his way back. But he learned a handy trick. Look to the sky.The sun at noon offers a southern alignment. Since it rises in the east and sets in the west, Antonio was able to gauge an appropriate direction by the movement and shadows. He navigated toward the hunting encampment by the western lakeshore. His father had not yet sent out a search team for him. He’d allowed Antonio the opportunity to get his bearings a
~ BAILEY ~“His baby mama?” I inquire, my brow raised.Her eyes pop again. “Absolutely not what I was going to call you! No one’s used that term. You’re his special guest. Though…” She turns more conspiratorial now. Even glances about to see if anyone’s within earshot. Satisfied no one will overhear us, she says, “Between you, me, and the lamppost—”“You know that phrase?” I’m surprised, truthfully. Despite her being quite capable of keeping up in our conversations without hitting language barriers too often.She squares her shoulders this time and tells me, “I’m well-versed in colloquialisms favored in numerous countries. However, I’m mostly fascinated with American adages. You have a very rich and diverse culture. I’m particularly intrigued with your musical stylings—such as hip-hop.”“You listen to hip-hop?”“Oh, yes! I have an extensive playlist. Anyway, I see why His Highness takes a great interest in your country.”A golden nugget is embedded in there, somewhere. I sense it. I j