All Chapters of Billionaire's Baby Project : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

"It's incredible," she whispers, trailing behind me in the moonlit sand. "Like a fairytale."A small, grudging smile stirs my lips. "Always the romance with you. For someone so stubbornly dug in against love, you certainly have an obsession with it."She blushes deeply, rose coloring her cheeks even in the nighttime darkness. She wears shorts and a hoodie, her long hair loose and flowing. What is she thinking, I wonder? Does she know what's coming? Does she know I have no choice but to send her away? My resentment grows every day. The sex, though I crave it, has slowed.Because it's not enough, and the realization terrifies me. I want more than just her body and her pleasure. I want...Her.She turns her face to the water, the ghost of a smile on her lips. I could see her here forever, the mistress of my island, the benevolent, soft-edged queen of my empire.Marriage. A thought that only recently filled me with disgust and loathing, But looking at her, this strange woman who has adapt

Lewis's familiar silhouette is framed by the floor-to-ceiling windows. His shoulders are a rigid line, hands buried in the pockets of his nice navy suit. His auburn hair, duller than Georgina's, is slicked back stylishly.Thunder sounds over the ocean, seeming to quake the island, rain lashing in violent strokes against the glass."You must have flown all night," I say, as mildly as I can manage.Lewis turns stiffly, eyes narrowed and black with rage. "You son of a bitch."Damn. I sigh, sitting on the edge of the sofa. "So. You know.""I had one fucking request.""Your sister is a grown woman," I say, any guilt I may feel eclipsed by annoyance. "I did nothing untoward.""Untoward? You're fucking your assistant!""Lewis."We both turn to find Georgina, dressed but still obviously sleep-mussed, framed in the parlor doorway. Her face is pink, full of contrition."Pack your things," Lewisorders her. "You're coming back to San Francisco."Georgina sighs softly, as though disappointed. "Lew

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

"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

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