~ BAILEY ~ Turns out… It’s not me, Bailey Storm, who jacks the whole program.While dinner is exceptionally tasty and I am about as content as any pregnant woman can be, particularly when she’s dining with a king, there’s much more on the evening’s docket to fringe my satisfaction with a tinge of anticipation.I can only draw out the end of the meal for so long.I mean, a crème brulee and a thick slice of carrot cake are notably excessive.Though Nick doesn’t raise his brow. He knows I’m stalling.We have somewhere to be, shortly. And despite me claiming I didn’t mind him having a cocktail when I can’t, I realize my scarfing down decadent desserts is essentially the equivalent of draining a couple of glasses of champagne before I head toward the guillotine.Overly dramatic, sure. However…Here’s something even wilder about all this.I have no idea why I feel this way, but there is a gnawing sensation within me that is telling me I have much more at stake here than I’d considered when
~ BAILEY ~We step into the opulent foyer of the apartment. It is no less and no more elegant and luxurious than Nick’s. The hues are a bit lighter than what Nick evidently prefers and the styles are dissimilar in terms of historical vs. modern, but other than that… Yeah. No expense spared here. Or on any inch of this palace.We’re greeted by a butler, who tells us, “His Majesty is waiting for you, Your Highness.”So king father still likes to be denoted as such. I tuck that away.We are escorted along the cavernous entryway that empties into a well-appointed salon, large enough to host an awards show, it seems.Another lengthy hall with myriad closed double doors is our route. Near the end, we are ceremoniously ushered into a striking suite with stunning textures and shades of deep burgundy and hunter green.I find this intriguing.Did his wife prefer the more delicate color palette elsewhere, and here in the bedroom, this was a compromise?I don’t know, of course. But for some reaso
~ NICK ~ I know Bailey is even more conflicted as we leave my father’s apartment.At the same time… There’s a sense of relief that seems to emit from her.Her breathing is a bit odd, though, as I tuck her under my arm and place my hand at the dip of her waist, keeping her close.Her breaths slow. Then speed up.“Is it the baby?” I quietly ask, keeping the alarm from my voice, so as to not further agitate her.“She’s all settled,” Bailey assures me. “Snug as a bug in a rug, as my dad would say.”Ah, there’s the golden nugget.“You’re making the direct correlation between my ailing father and yours. I’m sorry about that.”“There’s absolutely nothing for you to be sorry about, Nick. This is life. It comes with twists and turns. Some harsh realities. Bittersweet moments. Though… It’s not without its enjoyments.”She smiles up at me. Softly. Her eyes are still glistening with unshed tears. She holds onto them and that tugs at my heart. She doesn’t purposely want to make a scene—or make me
~ BAILEY ~Regardless of that word only rambling through my head, not falling from my lips, it chokes me up.I press a hand to my quivering mouth as tears crest and tumble.This is not the sort of room I had to put thought into before I came here.Nick hadn’t even been aware I was on my way for a visit—or that I ever would be. And yet… He’s already tackled this huge undertaking. Amazingly so.Emotion skitters through me, causing my still-scarce breaths to skip, like stones over placid water. There is a definite ripple effect.I hear Nick behind me, propping himself against the doorframe. Not fully entering and not crowding me.As if that could really happen. This space is vast, though truly, so inviting. So lovely. A creamy, fluffy wonderland.I could spend hours upon hours upon hours in here…Not exactly the most sensible thought to have, right?However, it’s an inescapable one. So there it is.Nick is the first to speak. Quietly, unobtrusively. “Will she like it?”I cry a little, wi
~ BAILEY ~Of all the lovers for me to take, I had to choose the one with the sort of skill set that left me wondering how on earth I’d ever catch my breath.Nick finesses us into a comfy position where I’m on my back, propped against the pillows. As usual, he has a forearm braced against the mound to hold himself slightly off me, to keep from crushing me.Also as usual… I want him to crush me. I want him plastered to me.But I get that he considers I’m in a “delicate condition.”That’s very sweet.He’s still inside me.That’s very hot.I can feel him pulsating and pushing deep.I know he lost it, right along with me. But he’s still burning, and the truth is… So am I.My pulse races. My heartbeats skip, wildly.I love that he does this to me.Every single time.It’s just a little embarrassing that I’m utterly boneless.My insides are sizzling, yet I feel fabulously limp and serene.In fact, it takes some effort to lift my arm so that I can sweep a lock of hair from Nick’s forehead. I
~ 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
~ 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 ~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 ~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