Masters for Life - Ginger Voight

MASTERS FOR LIFE Book II of the Masters Saga By Ginger Voight

© 2015 by Ginger Voight ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher. FILE SHARING: Please note this book is protected under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA). It has been made available for sale to the public for your personal use and enjoyment. No permission has been granted to upload onto file-sharing websites. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author to produce this content.

Just a little taste… “What are you doing?” “What does it look like?” I paused by the side of the bed. “It looks like you think you’re going to tie me to this bed.” “I don’t think I’m going to tie you to the bed, Coralie,” he said. He turned to face me. “I know I am.” My stomach dropped. “I don’t think so.” He rounded the bed to approach me. “Why not? That’s what my good girl has always wanted, isn’t it? A walk on the wild side with an alpha male, who would take her in hand and make her submit.” He stood right in front of me. I could smell the booze on his breath. “A bad boy who would take all her choices away, so she doesn’t bear any responsibility for all her naughtiest desires. You need the baddest of the bad for a job like that, darlin.’ Someone a little…,” he trailed off as he leaned even closer, “unpredictable.” I shivered in spite of myself. His fingers chased the goose bumps down my arm. “We didn’t cover everything in Vegas, did

we? We left a few stones unturned. Let’s turn them over. You know nothing would turn you on more than to be tied to this bed, at my mercy.” Again I shivered. “Devlin.” “For the rest of the night, until I tell you otherwise, you will call me sir,” he instructed as his eyes met mine. It was a potent look that welcomed no argument. “Devlin,” I tried again, this time a little sharper. He responded by stepping closer. “I said,” he repeated slowly, taking my chin in his hand, “you will call me sir.” My eyes widened as his mouth descended on mine. Despite the light bondage and submission he was suggesting, the kiss was positively gentle. He teased my mouth apart with his lips, probing my mouth just lightly enough to make me melt against him. And he knew what kind of power he had over me the minute I kissed him back. I was a junkie. And he was my fix. He wound his hand in my hair and pulled my head back so he could explore my neck. “That’s my girl.” ***

CHAPTER ONE

It only took me two weeks to determine once and for all that time was a relative thing. It was something I probably always knew deep down, I just never really thought about it before. I shrugged it off the way most people shrugged it off, a sort of “time flies if you’re having fun,” kind of thing. Good things were always over in a flash, while the bad things jammed the pause button, passing each minute frame by annoying frame. You felt like you were in slow motion while the whole world was being fast-forwarded. The same amount of time could inch by like mud until something good happened again to reset the clock. Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. More than one million life-changing seconds. Same amount of time, but the weight of that time depends entirely on how it was spent. As it turned out, two weeks spent in Las Vegas, with one of the sexiest men on the planet, was plenty of time to turn a life upside down. And I should know.

It happened to me. Coralie Masters here. It was Coralie Cabot when we first met a couple of weeks ago, when I was whining about a chaotic life where I never seemed to get what I really wanted. It only took two weeks to get everything I had spent a lifetime pining over, but funnily enough, this threw my life into even further turmoil. I skipped gaily past chaos right into calamity. Or at least that’s how it all felt in those first confusing moments after I woke up that Tuesday morning in early June, in the unfamiliar apartment that belonged to my new husband, Devlin Masters. I often wondered if everyone got a chill when I said that name, or if it was just me. I kind of always assumed it was everyone, particularly women, since giving women a thrill had been Devlin’s particular specialty. You see, Dev belonged to an elite group of men who made it their priority to fulfill the fantasies and desires of women, simply because they got paid very well to do so. And one didn’t simply become “elite” by accident. If ten thousand hours was all it took to “master” anything, my new husband had more than enough time under his belt honing every trick of his trade. Over the past three years, he had gotten being anything and everything to all women down to a science. Well, maybe not all women. Just the ones who paid big

bucks for the privilege. Yep. I married my male escort, which sounded a lot crazier than it felt. If you had spent any time at all with him, you would understand why I did what I did. There was a reason Devlin could charge hundreds–thousands–of dollars for his time. It wasn’t just because he looked good, though he did. It wasn’t just because he knew how to fuck, though he most certainly did. It was because he truly was a master at his craft, adapting himself like a chameleon to meet each and every specific need for his coveted clientele. He had a keen instinct how to make any girl feel like the only girl in the world, and in this modern age that skill was money in the freaking bank. Many successful modern women simply didn’t have time to date, rolling the dice on some stranger to see if he could fulfill her or satisfy her. She wanted to get hers and was willing to fork out a little dough to make sure that happened. He must have slept with hundreds of women in the three years he spent escorting. He had already told me that it was a numbers game, and I knew that he had some very big bills to pay, so it was easy enough to do the math and calculate statistics and probabilities. I could never get him to tell me exactly how many women there were, of course, because according to his non-negotiable rules, he didn’t talk about the specifics of his business. Not even

with his wife, as it turns out. But I could do the math. I knew how much money he had, and roughly how much he spent, so the basic arithmetic was easy enough to calculate. That Tuesday morning found me curled up beside him, under the protective blanket of his arm around my waist, in a bed where I could safely assume countless women before me had lain. My stomach hurt just to think about it. I sighed as I reached for my phone on the nightstand. It was a little after seven in the morning. Two short weeks before, I would have been waking up in my old room in my father’s Bel Air estate, preparing to get to work twenty minutes early so that I could earn my keep as a productive member of the Cabot’s team. My loyalty had never wavered, even though the fine department store my family owned had very little use for consumers like me. I had never been a size 0-6 like most of our models, mannequins, employees and customers. Regardless, I was expected to walk within the rigid lines someone else had drawn for my life, and for twenty-three years, I had done exactly that. But then I met Devlin Masters, and two weeks later I was displaced from my home and had likely signed way my right to eventually run my company as the one true Cabot heir. Because my impulsive decision effectively mucked up this

perfectly planned life, I knew I had a lot of things to fix over the coming days and weeks. I probably wouldn’t be allowed to go back to my job, or my home, until I managed to patch things up with both my father and my spurned ex-boyfriend, Oliver Lavoie, who just so happened to be vice president of my family’s company, i.e., my boss. Both of them had treated my surprise marriage like a betrayal. Maybe it kind of was. I mean, I escaped for a week in Vegas with my best friend, Lucy Lyon, under the guise of a personal vacation. Just a fun little getaway between best friends before Lucy returned home to marry her great love, Gus Dunleavy. Little did they know I had helped plan her own elopement while we were there, and, oh yeah… spent the week fucking my brains out with a gigolo. I wasn’t the first who had done such a thing. I certainly wouldn’t be the last. I could have written all of it off as “what happens in Vegas,” if I hadn’t, you know, actually married said gigolo and had to bring him home to meet the fam. This was the nagging little detail that blew my whole normal existence apart just like a pipe bomb. Two weeks was also all it took for me to realize that was inevitable either way. What Father and Oliver couldn’t know is that what they saw as a betrayal, I saw as a prison break.

I was happier with Devlin than I had ever been, and I knew anything less was settling, even if it might have been more conventional, more appropriate, or more socially acceptable. Now that I had had a taste of the extraordinary, going back to anything ordinary was impossible. The genie was out of the bottle and it wasn’t going to go back in. I wasn’t going to put it back in. I had settled for ordinary far too much in my short life. There was no going back to the same old status quo, whether I was married to him or not. And since it didn’t matter either way, I opted to stay where I was happiest, despite its unconventionality. Who in their right mind would have settled for boring old convention when they could have Devlin Masters instead? I ran my hand along the defined contour of Devlin’s bare arm. Every memory of being in those arms flashed in my brain, one right after the other, like a movie montage. I couldn’t help but shiver as I thought about every kiss, every moment really, that we had shared. It had been a whirlwind romance, but it was a romance nevertheless. And best of all, I got to be the star of that movie. Devlin Masters had made sure of that. I leaned closer to kiss his neck, which still smelled like his

cologne. I had a primal reaction to it now. Every time it filled my nostrils, that meant that Devlin was nearby. Exciting things always seemed to happen whenever Devlin was nearby. I trailed the tip of my tongue along his neck towards his shoulder and across that massive chest. He stirred in his sleep, turning onto his back, giving me an all-access pass to the rest of his body. It took far less than two weeks to figure out that was my favorite amusement park. He murmured as his hand snaked into my hair, pressing me further down his body until I was greeted by his morning erection. It was a temptation I didn’t have to deny. My tongue curled around him as I took him into my mouth, and he let out a soft sigh. “Coralie.” It made every nerve ending catch fire whenever he called me by my given name, instead of CC, like everyone else had always called me. Right from the start, he had claimed a part of me most had abandoned. I rewarded him by taking him even deeper into my mouth, sinking onto him with a murmured sigh of my own. I felt him tremble underneath me, which made me feel just like a goddess. He was mine to do with as I pleased. This particular Tuesday morning all I wanted was to satisfy him like only I, as his wife, now could. Thanks to our week in Vegas, I knew how to do exactly

that. His free hand clamped down on the sheets under us, a white-knuckled grip to keep his control as I employed every trick he had taught me. It didn’t take very long at until he practically begged for mercy. He hated to come before I did, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to lose control. I wanted him to be as powerless beneath me as I had proven to be beneath him. I was relentless as I drove him to the brink of his restraint. “I need you,” he finally muttered. “Coralie.” It wasn’t a request. He used his grip on my hair to pull me up to face him. His mouth covered mine in an instant. I straddled those strong thighs and he locked me into those intensely green eyes. “I need to be inside you. Now.” I needed the same thing. I slid down on top of him slowly, luxuriating in every delicious inch. He grabbed both hips in his hands to guide me up and down his rigid shaft. Like a man possessed, he bucked up to meet every thrust, finally releasing himself way sooner than I knew he wanted to. But he couldn’t help it, and secretly I gave myself a gold star for bringing my sexy husband to his knees. Husband. I still couldn’t believe it. He flipped me easily onto my back. “Your turn,” he promised with a sexy smirk, but I shook my head. “I have to get ready for work.”

His mouth thinned into a grim line. “I see,” he gritted before he turned away. I touched his arm. “You have nothing to worry about,” I promised, though there was no way I could predict how Father and Oliver would behave now, not after the events of the last couple of days. Oliver went from Good Guy to Masher in ten seconds flat when he had practically manhandled me in my office the day before, trying to claim his ownership about a year too late. “I should come with you,” Dev decided as he got up from the bed. “Of course,” I agreed, though I wasn’t entirely sure about that either. He had been livid the day before, when he had figured out what Oliver had done. It reminded me of the night in Vegas, when he had rescued me from a drunk at the slot machines, the one who made the mistake of putting his hands on me. I didn’t know much about Devlin Masters, but I did know one thing. He did not like to share. I wasn’t sure where that possessive or jealous streak came from, but I supposed we had time to figure things out. A lifetime of time, in fact. That’s what being married meant. It also meant compromise, so I didn’t argue as I followed him into the bathroom to shower and change. That was where we ran into the first snag. I didn’t have

anything suitable to change into to go to work. Father didn’t allow me to wear outside designers, which he considered every bit as much of a betrayal as marrying a complete stranger out of the blue. I had no clothes at Devlin’s place, much less anything suitable to wear to work. I certainly couldn’t wear what I had worn the day before. I may have been a newlywed, but I knew such a thing would be treated as some kind of walk of shame anyway. People seemed to get a little touchy (and judgy) when it came to a woman blatantly enjoying any kind of sexual liberation. I was supposed to hide being a fully realized sexual creature, right? Not just flaunt it in everyone’s face. I mean, how dare I? Worse than wearing the same clothes, I didn’t want to wear anything for sale at our store, either. Of the thousands of pieces we sold, only a dozen or so styles were in my size. Of those, maybe two or three pieces actually flattered me like I liked. Despite how many new conflicts I juggled, that old standby pissed me off worst of all. I was down in the mouth as I wrapped myself in a big, fluffy towel. “I guess I’ll have to get a few things from the store and just change there.” Devlin already knew how much settling for anything pissed me the hell off. He also had appointed himself as my white knight,

ensuring that I would never have to settle for anything again. He studied me for a long minute before he said, “Come on.” I followed him from the bathroom back into the bedroom. He opened up the door to the huge walk-in closet, heading straight for the chest of drawers that sat right in the middle. On the top was a big cardboard box, where he began pulling out several pieces of clothing. I could tell immediately that every single piece had been designed by his sister, Darcy. The way they flowed, the material she used; I could tell without even trying them on that they would fit to flatter in a way no other clothes I could find at Cabot’s could. I didn’t have to ask him where he got them. Instead, I posed another, more curious question. “Why do you have a box full of your sister’s clothes?” He sighed as he leaned against the drawers. “I fulfill my client’s fantasies, remember?” I lifted up the sunny yellow top to my torso. “And it’s just a coincidence it’s in my size?” His eyes never left mine. “No, Coralie. It’s not a coincidence.” I leaned back against the drawers as I waited for him to explain, which he did without on speck of apology. “I had Darcy send me a package of size-14 clothing within an hour of getting your first email.”

My mouth dried up instantly. “What? Why?” He sighed as he turned back to the box to pull out more clothes. “I told you before. It’s my job to give women what they want most.” “But how did you know that included clothes?” I persisted. He flashed me that smirk. “All women love to feel pretty in their clothes, Coralie. You know that.” “So… wait,” I said as my brain scrambled to compute this startling new data. “You knew who I was when I sent the email?” He inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower. “I researched you the minute I had a first and last name,” he admitted at last. “I research everyone. It helps to start a few paces ahead. I scope out a potential client’s social media, dig up any relevant articles or information on my more notable clients. I gather all available information before I initiate contact, so I can develop a plan of attack from there.” I arched an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of words.” He shrugged. “Like I told you before, a lot is riding on that first date.” I thought back to how insecure I felt when he had originally drilled me about my dress size, something he now admitted to knowing all along. “Why did you bother asking me my dress size if you already knew it?”

“There was more benefit in my knowing the information than letting you know that I knew it. Women tend to get creeped out if they think they’re being stalked or played. They find it far more romantic if a man instinctively anticipates what they need, but in order to do that, one has to take the time to figure it out. Since I don’t have the luxury of ‘dating,’ I had to find a more efficient way to do that. It’s the same game, just a different delivery. I can be prepared and you can be pleasantly surprised.” I gulped hard as I realized how masterfully he had played the game. But it was what he said next that really took me by surprise. “More importantly I wanted to see how you felt about your size, so I’d know which piece of clothing would make you feel the most beautiful.” The way he said ‘your size,’ hit me like a brick to the face. “Two for two,” I gritted between clenched teeth before I turned away. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back. “This is why I don’t talk about my job, Coralie. It doesn’t matter how we got there.” “It does to me,” I snapped. “I don’t want a relationship built with smoke and mirrors.” He released my arm. “Then don’t marry your gigolo.” I threw the top on the box and spun on my heel to leave

the closet, but he closed the distance between us in a heartbeat. He wrapped one strong arm around my waist, lifted me up off the ground and into the unrelenting vice of his embrace. “Let me go!” “Never,” he said softly. My eyes sought his. Resistance beyond that was futile and I knew it. “I don’t apologize for anything that brought us together, Coralie. Not one damned thing. I love you. And that is worth everything.” I melted against him. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stay mad at him. I was pretty sure that wasn’t an accident either, especially when he kissed me so deep and so hard I could barely keep track of my own name, much less an argument. Besides, how could I be mad at him? Sure this was new information, but it fit neatly into everything he had told me before about his job. Why was I so surprised that he was actually every bit as good at it as he said he was? He was, after all, a master. One didn’t get this kind of apartment, his kind of car and all the expensive toys and playthings he had collected by accident. Elite, remember? “I’m sorry,” I finally apologized as he set me on my feet. “I guess I just needed to believe I was special.” He grabbed my left hand in his. My rings sparkled from the light overhead, casting rainbows throughout the closet. “Can’t get any more special than that, Mrs. Masters.”

I trembled. He was absolutely right about that. “Now pick something pretty,” he said as he turned back to the box. “We’re late for work.” I finally settled on the yellow chiffon top to go along with a black skirt I found in this new box of goodies, both items fit so much better than the ones I had worn the previous day, an outfit I had purchased from our Women’s Plus line at Cabot’s. I planned to point that out to Father or Oliver if they dared ask me about it, which I knew that they would, despite the fact that I looked both pretty and professional as I followed my husband to his car waiting downstairs. We arrived at the store a little before nine o’clock. Devlin shadowed me with one arm draped possessively around my shoulders as I hurried down the hall to my office. Simon gave us a knowing wink. Devlin smirked in response, which I knew probably gave Simon a little bit of a thrill. I opened the door to yet more roses. “Devlin,” I protested at once. “Like I told you. Roses every day.” I shut the door behind us. “You can’t afford to keep doing that,” I said softly. He grinned as he strode to one of the chairs opposite my desk. “Then I guess you better put me to work, boss lady. Thanks

to this,” he added as he flashed his wedding band, “I can’t go back to my old job.” “No, you can’t,” I agreed as I sat at my desk and powered on my computer. “It’s so cute when you get possessive,” he teased. I stuck out my tongue at him before I brought up the email for the director in charge of men’s apparel. I didn’t even bother running it past Father or Oliver. I was the head of marketing. I didn’t need their permission to hire a model for a clothing campaign. I did it routinely without ever concerning them with the process. So that was what I was going to do now. Within an hour, Troy Kierkegaard, our photographer, sat across from me, and we worked Devlin right into our fall catalog. I knew that the pay was minor in comparison to the money Dev used to make while escorting, but it was a start. In fact, he could get started right away and have steady work leading all the way to the end of the year. “An honest living,” he remarked later, after Troy left. I shrugged. We had discussed finances the night before, so I already knew how much he had brought in the previous year, which went a long way to explain his apartment, his car and his playthings. He had savings, but most of it was earmarked for his mother’s care, which cost him thousands upon thousands of dollars

each month. Beyond that he had paid the mortgage for his sister’s townhome in Vegas, and maintained a life that made him attractive to an elite clientele. I wasn’t worried so much about the last part. “So we pare things down a bit. It won’t kill us.” “It won’t kill you,” he corrected. “No doubt you own your car outright. There are no huge, unpaid expenses looming over your head. You even have a big house to return to if you get tired of slumming it.” “Stop it,” I instructed at once. “I’m married to you. I’m staying with you. In fact, I was thinking maybe we could start looking for a place of our own.” His eyes met mine. “I take it you don’t like my apartment.” I sighed. “Not really, no.” He leaned forward towards the desk. “I told you I didn’t work there.” “But you have a history there,” I pointed out. “You have a history at your dad’s place. How many times did you fuck Oliver there?” “Six times,” a male voice intruded into our conversation. My eyes swung around to find Oliver standing in the doorway of my office, having opened the door and entered without knocking. I was relatively sure that wasn’t the reason that Devlin was pissed, but

that was the reason that he gave him. “Ever heard of privacy, chief?” he barked as he hopped to his feet. I shot up out of my chair and rounded my desk to put my hand on Devlin’s arm, to keep him from doing anything stupid. “Excuse me, but I am the one who actually works here.” A slow smile slid across Devlin’s face. “What a coincidence. So do I.” Oliver glanced at me. I nodded to confirm. He began chuckling immediately, which only steamed Devlin even more. “Let me be the first, then, to welcome you to the family,” Oliver said with a fake smile as he held out a hand to shake. Devlin stared daggers at him but didn’t move a muscle. “Fine, then,” he said. “I am going to have to speak to CC alone, though.” “I don’t think so,” Devlin said. “Not after what happened yesterday.” Oliver’s smile broadened. “It was a congratulatory kiss for the happy bride.” Devlin started towards him, but I held him back. “That’s the last kiss you’re getting, boss.” I could tell Oliver enjoyed yanking Devlin around by the nose hairs, especially when he said, “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.” He ignored the steam rising from Devlin’s ears to direct his attention back to me. “So. CC. A word?”

I could feel Devlin’s glare burning a hole in my skin. I gulped hard as I turned to Oliver. “Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of my husband.” “Oh. Okay then. In that case, I just wanted to let you know that your father has hired a private investigator to dig into your new husband’s past, going over everything he’s ever done with a fine-tooth comb. If he finds anything at all, he’s got Sid on standby to file for annulment on the basis of fraud.” He glanced between us with an amused smirk. “How’s that?” I stole a glance at Devlin, who glared so hard at Oliver I thought it would slice him in two. “Search away,” he clipped before he wrapped an arm around me. “Nothing you find will come as a surprise to my wife.” The possessive way he said the words erased Oliver’s smug smile right from his face. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?” he shot back before he glanced back at me. “A more mature approach would be to actually talk to your father. Are you ever planning to go back to the house? Or are you going to make him come to the office to find you?” “Of course I’ll go see him,” I snapped. How dare he insinuate that I hadn’t been there for my father in every way that mattered for the last ten years? “Good. He’s worried about you. As are we all,” he added

with a pointed glare before he left the office. Devlin turned to face me. “Please tell me you weren’t seriously thinking of settling with someone like him.” “I thought I didn’t have a choice, okay?” I finally admitted. “I told you from the beginning that you always have a choice.” My eyes met his. “Then I guess you saved me.” It was the only way to diffuse another argument. I couldn’t worry about Oliver and Devlin right now. I knew that my father wouldn’t stop looking for something to hang Devlin with until he found it. Unfortunately for all of us, Devlin’s past came with more than enough rope. “None of that is important right now. What are we going to do about this private investigator?” He shrugged. “Trust me. There’s very little I can’t talk myself out of. And they can’t force you to annul the marriage based on anything they find on the escort stuff anyway. You knew about it going in.” “Maybe,” I muttered dismissively. “Maybe if we go talk to him, we can make him understand.” “He’ll never understand, Coralie.” “Maybe not,” I conceded. “But he can’t be mad at me forever. I’m his only daughter, for God’s sake.”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” he assured. “But I think you’re wasting your time, babe.” I thought back to Darcy, and the hundred-grand I had invested into her startup company to make hip, fashionable clothes for people like me. One day very soon I was going to have to have that conversation with Father as well. I had to believe, somewhere deep down anyway, that there was hope that he could be reached. That he could be reasonable. “I’m not giving up, Devlin,” I told him. I still believed I could have it all. #ticktockgoestheclock…

CHAPTER TWO

We arrived at Father’s estate a little before seven o’clock that evening, after inching down Santa Monica Boulevard in rush hour traffic. It was a drive I had made many times over the years, commuting from our store in Century City to my home in Bel Air. Only it wasn’t my home anymore. It hadn’t been since Devlin slid a wedding ring on my finger. I was some weird, mutant hybrid now who was virtually homeless–even though I had a pretty nice place to stay. I hadn’t been able to feel comfortable there, and thanks to Father’s blowup at the news of my marriage, I didn’t feel welcome with him either. I truly did want to see my father, to try and reach out to him, to make inroads so that we could repair our relationship and start anew. But I also made peace with the idea that if I couldn’t reach him, I would pack up my things and move into Devlin’s apartment. My dad was going to have to choose. He could accept me married and happy, or he could accept that he forced the estrangement. Needless to say I was hoping for a happy ending. I still wore the yellow top and black skirt, since my clothing

options were already so limited. I knew it would piss him off, but I couldn’t help it. I could only hope he wouldn’t see it as completely antagonistic. Margot and Aubrey were seated at the dining room table eating their dinner as we entered the house. Both of them looked me up and down like I had grown a second head. And both looked at Devlin like the freshest piece of meat in the deli. Perhaps they thought someone as hot as my husband was wasted on someone as plain as me. And maybe they were right. But the rings were on my finger, and that meant something. “Aunt Margot, Aubrey,” I greeted. “Has Father already eaten?” “He’s taken dinner in his room the last couple of nights,” Margot answered. The way her icy blue eyes scoped me up and down, I knew immediately that she thought that was my fault. Again, she was probably right. “I should go see him,” I announced, and Devlin nodded. “I’ll stay here and get acquainted with the family.” I didn’t much like the sound of that, nor the grin he wore when he said it, but there was no way to avoid it. I certainly couldn’t take Devlin upstairs to Father’s room. Instead I made that lonely trek up the spiral staircase by myself, my knees knocking the closer I crept to his master suite at

the far end of the hall. My hand faltered as I reached for the bronze doorknob. Devlin was right. This was a complete waste of time. There was nothing I could say to Father to make him understand that even though it didn’t seem like it, I knew what I was doing. I took a deep breath, gathered all my courage and I opened the door. Father’s suite hadn’t changed much since my Mother’s death ten years before. His king-sized bed still sat atop an elevated platform, with gauzy curtains hanging from the ceiling around the four-poster bed. The walls were covered in a darker green material, decorated with dainty flowers, just like the meadows near our chateau in France. Expensive art hung on the wall, another of Mother’s indelible touches. She had been a painter when she was younger, though she wasn’t particularly good at it. She always had way more heart than talent. She might have ended up a starving artist had she not had the good fortune of selling one of her pieces to a distinguished man named Charles Cabot at her very first show, where he fell in love with the blue-eyed beauty at first sight. He’d bought that painting to have a reason to talk to her. The next week he bought another, when they met for tea at her Paris apartment. The next week he bought yet another, when he finally stole his first kiss.

Desperate to get closer to her, he commissioned a piece done of Chateau du Cabot, which meant she would have to spend an entire summer at our sixteenth century chateau just to complete it. By the end of the summer the painting was no more finished than the first day she arrived, but she had a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly. Now that I knew what it meant to fall into a crazy, epic, once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that changes your whole life in the blink of an eye, I felt renewed empathy for Father’s loss. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to find that kind of magic, only to lose it so tragically fourteen years later, which had to pass like fourteen minutes, considering they were so blissfully happy. Now the years stretched long without her. No wonder he was so bitter. “Father?” I asked as I rounded one of the bed posts. The closer I got, the worse I felt. Father looked shrunken, old and feeble tucked in the middle of that massive bed. He wore pajamas, rather than clothes, which made it impossible not to notice how his body had been subtly shrinking for years. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? “CC,” I heard him say. I propped up on the side of the bed. “Hi, Dad.”

I could tell by the way his eyes drooped that he was on heavy medication. More sedatives, no doubt. “Are you home, CC?” he murmured, his speech slightly slurred from the medication. I reached for his hand. “I came to see you so that we could talk about that.” He shook his head, instantly dismissive. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he muttered as he pulled his hand from my grip. “Father, please,” I started but again he shook his head. “How can you bring a perfect stranger into my home, Coralie?” he asked, likely using my given name so I could understand the importance of my error. “He’s not a stranger to me, Dad,” I said softly. “He’s my husband. And I love him.” He instantly scoffed. “He is a swindler that bamboozled you. There’s no way a man like that could legitimately fall in love with you over a week, CC. Be honest with yourself.” My gut twisted in a knot. Is that really what he thought? “Why isn’t it possible, Dad? Because I’m not tall and beautiful like my mother?” “Don’t twist my words around,” he snapped. “I’m not twisting anything around,” I said. “You said what you said and you meant what you said. A guy like that could never fall for a girl like me. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Much like Oliver, he simply rolled his eyes and refused to take it seriously. “Stop being so sensitive. I’m only trying to protect you.” “I don’t need your protection. I’m a grown woman.” He scoffed again. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have married some playboy after only one week.” Frankly I was tired of the criticism, especially from a man who always claimed to believe in love at first sight. I decided to fall back on the fake history Devlin and I had created, to explain our association without having to tell the truth: that I had solicited his sexual services online through an escort service. “It was more than a week, remember? We went to school together.” Instantly I panicked, remembering once again about the private investigator now digging in Devlin’s past. They might demand a college transcript from Stanford, and then we’d all be screwed. I had just painted myself into a corner with my own stupid lie. Clearly I wasn’t very good at it. Fortunately Father merely grunted and looked away. “You should come home, CC. You belong here.” “I belong with my husband,” I corrected. “Is Devlin welcome here?”

“He will be,” Father said, “after he’s proven he’s fit to be your husband.” “And what’s that going to take, Dad?” “Whatever it takes to prove he is not a threat to this family,” was all he would say. I knew that meant Devlin would be vetted like someone running for office, and it would take a while for Father to exhaust every angle to test him. Thanks to Devlin’s past, he would never, ever pass the test. I sighed and stood to my feet. “Then I guess that we’ve reached an impasse.” He said nothing as he watched me. He refused to blink. “Take care of yourself, Dad. No matter what you think, I do love you. This isn’t about that. I just want to live my own life my way. And I know what I’m doing,” I added before I rounded his bed and marched towards the door. When I got back downstairs to the dining room, Devlin sat at the table in between Margot and Aubrey. From the smiles on their faces and the wistful, nay coquettish, looks in their eyes, I knew my husband had successfully won them over. He likely piled on the flattery, knowing that for people like my aunt and my cousin, that was easiest check to cash. Devlin glanced down at the suitcase in my hand. “Didn’t go very well, I take it?” “Father needs some time,” I hedged.

He nodded and then stood, sending a heart-stopping smile to Margot and Aubrey. “Thanks for keeping me company, ladies,” he said. “Our pleasure,” Margot purred. Her blue gaze still cut me like a blade, though. Was that jealousy I saw? Dev and I stopped by Petit Paradis, my private residence on Father’s estate, on our way out, so that I could pack the clothes that I had purchased at Tempestuous, a clothing company that catered to women with unconventional figures like mine. It astounded me how little I wanted to take from my private sanctuary aside from those brand new clothes. I had once decorated this house with such excitement, starting out life ‘on my own’ and making all my own choices. But those choices hadn’t been mine. The life I was living hadn’t been mine. I had lived the life Father had wanted me to live, and did my best to make peace with it. All the things I bought, all the things that I used to think made me happy I no longer needed now that I had Devlin. I took my laptop, my new clothes, some toiletries and a photo album–the one that included all the photos from my childhood, and my photos with my mom–and we were out the door about a half-hour from the time we walked in. I packed what little I took into my car, and then I followed

Devlin back to his apartment downtown. No matter how I felt about it, this would be my home for the foreseeable future. Maybe that had played a part in how much I wanted to take with me from Father’s estate. The downtown apartment wasn’t my home, and wouldn’t feel that way no matter how many of my belongings surrounded me. It reminded me that I needed to start house-hunting immediately. Devlin started dinner while I was putting away my things, which now included Darcy’s box of goodies. In said box I found a black silk robe, so I decided to wash away my frustrating day with a long shower. I had to move his stuff out of the way to put my toiletries on the shelf in the large tiled shower, which struck me as the most ‘married’ thing I had done yet. Aside from hanging about twenty pieces of clothing in one small corner of his huge walk-in closet (that was filled to capacity with his own tailored, designer clothes,) this was the first time our things had actually blended, side by side. This was what it meant to cohabitate, and I was now doing it with the sexiest man on the planet. I examined my peridot engagement ring under the misting spray of his shower. The large stone dominated my tiny hand, sparkling from the light overhead. What a weird couple of weeks it had been. It was like I had woken up in some alternate universe

mere weeks ago, and there was no going back now. Truth was that I wanted to be here than anywhere else in the world. It was worth disappointing my family, losing my home and jeopardizing my future as the CEO of Cabot’s Fine Department Stores. Despite it all, I was happier than I’d ever been. I was even happier when the door opened and my brand new husband walked in. Our eyes met through the glass shower stall. He grinned as he unbuttoned his shirt. I watched as he undressed, revealing that amazing body for me before he opened the door and stepped into the shower to join me. He immediately took me into his arms. “Dinner’s ready,” he murmured against my ear before he started kissing my neck just below my ear–my ultimate weakness. “We should go eat it,” I murmured back, though food was the last thing on my mind as I felt him grow against me. “We should,” he agreed as his hands slid down the curve of my back and rested on each full hip. “It’ll get cold.” “We wouldn’t want that,” I said as my hands made a similar path down his wet skin. He wasted no time hoisting me into his arms, and I locked my ankles behind his hips. Suddenly his lips were on mine, kissing me hard, as if we had to make up for all the times we couldn’t kiss. He braced me against the wall, flattening my back against

the tile. “You make me crazy, Coralie,” he said between kisses. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” It was high praise, given that he used to want women for a living–or at the very least, fake that he did. But he wasn’t faking anything with me as he slid up inside me. I cried out as he filled me. I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn’t think as he began to thrust powerfully, as if each stroke claimed me anew. It was all I had ever wanted. And I had it. I couldn’t think of a happier ending, or a better beginning. I kissed him hard, urging him on, until we were both raced crazily towards paradise. He finally buried himself with one last plunge and a primal yell. I wilted against him. We didn’t move or speak for a long moment afterwards. I felt him pulsate inside of me, echoing my own heartbeat. Babies, the angel on my shoulder whispered. That’s what comes next. The devil on my other shoulder and I both told her to shut the fuck up. One life-altering crisis at a time, please. Devlin cradled my face in his hand as he kissed me again. “I love you, Mrs. Masters,” he said. I melted even more. Coralie Masters. That’s who I was now. And I belonged only to him. I squeezed him tight inside my body, which made him growl as he

dove his face into my neck. “So insatiable. I’m going to need food to keep up with you, girl.” I laughed and allowed him to untangle himself from my body so we could rinse ourselves under the lukewarm spray. He pulled me by the hand onto the plush bath mat, where he proceeded to dry me thoroughly with one of his large gray towels. Finally he helped me into the silk robe, which he closed and tied while his eyes were locked with mine. “Wrapping my present for later,” he said with that lopsided smirk I had grown to love. “A midnight snack,” he said before he touched the tip of his magnificent tongue to his nose. It made me laugh. He could always make me laugh. He tugged on some pajama bottoms before he led us to the dining room, where dinner waited. He lit a couple of candles while I poured some wine to enjoy with the grilled chicken breasts and steamed vegetables he had prepared, along with a small side salad. “And you cook, too. A man of many talents.” He chuckled as he sat in his seat and placed a napkin in his lap. “You learn to do a lot of things for yourself when you grow up without money.” My eyes fell. I supposed that was true. I learned to cook because I wanted to, not because I had to. Gretchen had taken care of my practical needs since I was a baby, so that I could spend

my time getting the proper education and learn how to be a lady. So much for that. I dug into the feast before me. Though it was cold, the chicken had been spiced to perfection, with a splash of lime for a bit of a zing. The steamed veggies were just the right balance of soft and crisp, and he had grated fresh Parmesan on top. The salad was more than just lettuce, tomato and dressing. He included radishes, mushrooms, cucumber and celery. He garnished it with honey glazed nuts and bleu cheese crumbles and just a drizzle of vinaigrette. It was all perfectly proportioned, good food cooked well. “This certainly explains how you manage to look so good,” I teased with a grin. “That and the gym downstairs,” he agreed with a grin of his own. “Plus fucking is an excellent form of exercise.” I couldn’t argue that. I felt like I’d already lost ten pounds from our week-long marathon in Vegas. “After a few months as your wife, I should be svelte in no time.” I wondered momentarily if that was the plan. As if he knew it, Devlin’s eyes met mine. “You don’t have to change for me, Coralie.” I nodded. It harkened back to the song he sang to me in Vegas, saying I was perfect just the way I was. Still…

“I just don’t want to disappoint you. If you got into this marriage expecting that I might change…,” I started, but he cut me off, sudden and sure. “I’m not your father. You don’t have to earn my love. It’s already yours.” I nodded again. That was another part of my life that was completely new. “I’ll give you Sandra’s number,” he said, referring to his housekeeper. “You can text her whatever you want added to the shopping list.” I took a big sip of wine. “You know, that might be one cost we can pare down if we need to. I’m not totally helpless around the house. I’m pretty sure I can keep it clean, and we can cook and do all the laundry ourselves.” He shrugged. “It fits in the budget for now. I don’t want to put Sandra out of work if I can help it.” I took a deep breath for courage. “It may be something to think about if it turns out I don’t keep my job.” Devlin slowly put his fork on the table. “Is that what your Father said?” I shook my head. “He wouldn’t do that to me. At least, I don’t think so. But it’s not Father I’m worried about.” Devlin sat back in his chair and waited. “I just don’t know how long we can

work side by side with Oliver. You nearly came to blows today.” “That’s because he’s an entitled jackass,” Devlin bit out before he speared more chicken on the end of his fork. “Regardless, you can’t let him get to you. If he knows he can provoke you, he’ll keep doing just to force you out of the company. I’d rather us both leave entirely.” Devlin shook his head. “You’re not leaving Cabot’s,” he decided. “I’ve cost you enough already.” I reached for his hand. “You haven’t cost me anything I wasn’t willing to lose, Dev,” I said, employing his sister’s pet name for him. He immediately softened as a result. “Fine,” he agreed at last. “I’ll keep the peace. For now,” he added as he glared hard at me. “But he’s not going to stop pushing, Coralie. No matter how many lines you draw in the sand, he’s going to jump rope with each and every one.” “Maybe,” I conceded. “But that doesn’t change one damn thing. I’m in love with you. I’ve chosen you. And if they make me pick, I’m going to pick you.” He sighed as he tossed the fork onto the table and stood from his chair. He pulled me immediately into my arms and held me tight. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against my hair. “Yes, you do. You deserve everything.” He pulled back just a bit to take my face into his hands.

“You are everything.” He planted a kiss on my lips before gathering me close. My robe slid to the floor, and just like that dinner was forgotten.

CHAPTER THREE

The rest of the week played out uneventfully. We went to work every morning. We made love every night. In between we managed to juggle Oliver. He went from the least overbearing boss I ever had to the most micromanaging dickhead he could be. He was in my office at least a dozen times a day, for stupid, silly things he used to let me handle on my own. He was particularly interested in the new marketing campaigns that starred none other than Devlin Masters, my new husband. “I still think it’s a mistake to put him in the middle of a highprofile marketing campaign until we know a little more about him,” Oliver said. “I know everything I need to know about him,” I snapped. “We’ll see,” was all Oliver would say, which pissed me off even more. Truthfully I didn’t really know Devlin all that well. For everything I did know, there were dozens more I didn’t, and that thought nagged at me way more than I wanted it to admit. I spent the better part of that first week trying to dig under Devlin’s many

layers, but he gave away very little. Usually he distracted me, either by making love to me, or by playing beautiful music at his piano, usually naked, which somehow always ended in us making love as well. A long time ago I had dreamed of what it would be like to have a man in my life who couldn’t get enough of me. Now I had it. So naturally now I wanted more. I straddled his lap, my legs closed around his waist, as he sat at the piano, both of us naked and sweaty as we came down from our latest orgasm. He palmed my breast, tweaking the nipple as he took playful bites out of my skin. “I’d have never learned to play if you were around.” I smoothed his hair back with one hand. “When did you learn to play?” He studied me for a long moment. I knew that look well. He was calculating how much of his story he could share with me, and how that fit into all his ‘rules.’ He must have decided it was a harmless question because he finally answered me. “I started toying with the piano when we lived in Belfast,” he said. “I was fairly young, considering we left Ireland before my fourth birthday. The lady next door babysat me. It didn’t take her long to figure I’d behave and sit still as long as I could bang out notes on her old piano. She probably needed earplugs to get through it,” he added

with a grin, which I mirrored. “I didn’t start taking official lessons until we moved to New York in 1990. We lived in Brooklyn, about a block away from this sweet Italian lady named Susan Faustino. For nearly ten years straight I spent four afternoons a week at her house. If 9/11 hadn’t happened, who knows where I might have ended up? I had already begun to dream of Julliard. And since I was still just a stupid kid, I thought I could make it happen.” I caressed his face. “What happened?” He sighed as he lifted me out of his lap. “My dad was a janitor in the towers. He didn’t make it out, obviously. His best friend decided he’d get my mom, Darcy and I out of the city before anything worse could happen. We all piled in his car, stopping to settle where we finally ran out of gas money. Hello, Las Vegas.” He was bitter as he said it. “Maybe Mama was afraid of being alone or something. I don’t know. But she married him within the year. That was when everything started to go wrong.” My heart ached for him. He had gone through so much, reaching all the way back to when he was a vulnerable adolescent. “I’m sorry, Devlin.” He nodded before he swung his legs around the bench to stand. “Maybe now you understand why I don’t like to talk about the past. We can’t change what’s done.” I followed him to the bar, where he poured himself a stiff

drink. “I just want to learn more about you, honey. That’s all.” He didn’t even look at me. “And beat your father to the punch?” “Hey,” I said as I turned him to face me. “I don’t care what they find out. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.” In fact, his sad story made me love him even more. And, of course, he read me like a book. “Don’t look at me like that, Coralie,” he said softly. “I don’t want your pity. I’m no victim.” I nodded. “I get that. And it’s not pity. I just wish I could have been there for you.” His jaw clenched. “To save me?” I pulled his arms apart to step into his embrace. “To love you.” He studied me for a long moment with those clouded green eyes. Finally he lifted me up into a powerful embrace. We didn’t talk about the past at all for the rest of the night. That weekend we invited Gus and Lucy over for dinner. We hadn’t talked much during the week following our return, mostly because Lucy had a lot of making up to do for the week we stole in Las Vegas. I had a glass of wine poured for her as soon as she walked in the door. “You know me too well,” she grinned as she reached for a

hug. I turned to Gus, who held a big white box in his hands. “What’s this?” “It’s a belated wedding-slash-housewarming gift,” Lucy supplied. “Open it!” I carried it to the dining room table, where Lucy insisted that Devlin and I open the box together. Inside was a petite wedding cake with white fondant frosting and a cascade of dark red roses. It, too, had a top tier we could freeze. “Lucy, you shouldn’t have,” I told her before I gave her another big hug. “Any opportunity one has the chance to have cake and misses it is a sin. It’s in the Bible.” We laughed. “Besides, it’s your anniversary today. You’ve been married a whole week. Congratulations!” “Well, thank you!” I said as I directed them where to sit. The dining room table sat in front of a large glass window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. We faced west, beyond the downtown skyline to the Pacific beyond. “Now that’s a view,” Gus praised. “Great place,” he told Devlin, who nodded. “Thanks, we like it.” I bit my tongue. Lucy’s grin indicated she missed nothing. “To married life,” Gus toasted. We raised our glasses high

before we drank. “How’s your mom?” I asked Lucy, who shook her head at once with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “You’d think that she’d be over the moon. I’m not fighting her on anything, yet she’s still driving me crazy. She wants this wedding to be perfect, whatever the hell that means.” “She did cave on one thing,” Gus gently reminded her. “Oh yeah,” Lucy grinned. “She’s going to let me wear the wedding dress I picked.” I arched an eyebrow. “How’d you manage that?” “She demanded to see the new dress when we got back from Vegas. Even she had to admit that she liked it, albeit very begrudgingly.” We all laughed. “She said it was more of a party dress, and that if I really wanted to, I could change into it for the reception.” “A win is a win,” Gus drawled. “She’s trying.” “I think it has more to do with how much fancier this wedding will be if the bride shows off two wedding dresses,” Lucy corrected. “Either way,” he shrugged. “Three more weeks,” Lucy sighed. “Then we can return to life as normal.” She gave us a playful side-eye glare, “Or in your

case, have a family of five and retire to Florida.” Both Devlin and I laughed. Yes, we had moved quickly, but I hadn’t regretted a single moment, even with all that it cost me. “Where else can you raise a llama?” I teased. “But seriously, though,” Lucy said as she placed her glass on the table. “What’s next?” Another look passed between Dev and me. Finally I shrugged. “We don’t know. Father has decided, in his infinite wisdom, to have my new husband thoroughly vetted before he can be welcomed into the family with open arms. So we’re basically in a holding pattern when it comes to family, the business and probably even where we’ll live.” I could tell by Lucy’s arched eyebrow that she was as worried about how this investigation would shake out as I was. Aside from me, she was the only one who knew about Dev’s scandalous past. “And what happens if your dad doesn’t come around?” “His loss,” I stated. “Dev and I are married, and we’re going to stay that way.” He reached across the table to take my hand. I squeezed it with a smile. We finished our dinner and then cut into our ‘wedding’ cake. Underneath the butter cream frosting was a deep, red velvet

cake filled with decadent cream cheese. Lucy insisted that Devlin and I feed each other, which we did. It was amazing how erotic any humdrum activity could become as long as I was looking into those seductive green eyes of his. The way his gaze lingered on my mouth sent me into sensory overload. Even after a marathon week of sex, I still wanted more. I knew I would always want more. I wanted more of the cake, too. It was so scrumptious that my eyes practically rolled back in my head. “Total homerun,” I mumbled to Lucy as I tried to manage another big bite. Devlin popped open another bottle of champagne, vintage 1999. I knew from experience that the bottle was worth well over a hundred dollars, and Devlin had at least four of them. Despite his meager upbringing, my husband had learned to live well. We toasted our good fortunes again before we took our champagne and cake onto the balcony overlooking downtown Los Angeles. We scattered to separate corners once we got there because Lucy couldn’t wait to get me alone. “So what’s the scoop, girl?” she asked before digging into her own slice of cake. “You know most of it. I’m married. Dad is pissed. Oliver’s a douche. And here we are,” I said as I gestured to our opulent surroundings.

“Yeah, you are here all right,” Lucy said as she looked around our spacious balcony, fifteen stories up, towering among all the other buildings that made up the L.A. skyline. “Doesn’t it bother you knowing that this is the pad that a gigolo built?” “Of course it does,” I said. “I can’t look at anything in this place, from his baby grand piano to the entertainment center worth about ten thousand dollars, without seeing him fucking another girl.” “You need to move,” she agreed with a slight nod of her head. “Tell me about it,” I mumbled. “He won’t even consider it, though. Every time I bring it up, he changes the subject.” “Tell him how you feel. Surely he’ll understand.” “How can I make a big deal of it now, Lucy? I knew all this going in, and I married him anyway. That’s not fair.” “Any fairer than his asking you to sleep in a bedroom with a revolving door?” I winced a little. “He says he never brought clients here.” “As if that makes it better,” she said. “Look, Ceece. I love you. I love him too, believe it or not. So I’m super stoked you’re together. But don’t lose yourself in him, even if he is your husband.” The subject quickly dropped after that. We ended up playing cards until midnight, when my effervescent bestie finally ran out of gas. Lucy’s weekends were jam-packed for the next three

weeks, while she prepared for her mother’s wedding, so she could barely keep her eyes open, though she held out as long as she could before they finally headed for home. I took the top tier of our cake into the kitchen to wrap it up and freeze it, per instructions I found on the Internet. Devlin walked up behind me while I was busy at my task, wrapping his arms around my waist as he nuzzled my neck. “I really do love your friends,” he said. “They’re your friends, too,” I informed him. “Byproduct of marriage. In the contract, Section Twelve, article 23.” He laughed. “Fine. I love our friends. And I love them most when they leave,” he teased with that smirk that twisted my nerves into a knot. He used his fingers to break off a piece of the bottom layer of cake, which he fed to me. He watched me until I swallowed the bite, leaning forward to lick away any stray frosting. The kiss deepened, tasting of rich red velvet, and my task was forgotten as I linked my arms around his neck and pulled him down for more. He picked me up, carried me to bed, and we made love for hours. It was our anniversary after all. I tried my best not to think about anything else, since nothing else mattered beyond that, but Lucy’s comment about the revolving door to his bedroom simmered at the base of my brain.

Even waking up the next morning to breakfast in bed, and learning that Dev had frozen the cake for me, didn’t do much to quiet that deafening whisper. I was relieved when he suggested we get out of the house for the day. We decided to picnic at the beach, so he drove me down to Marina del Rey. There he had another ace up his sleeve, namely a 20-foot sailboat he had named Aileen, after his mom. “We’ll name the next one Coralie,” he promised as he expertly navigated the vessel out onto open water. It was yet another layer to pull back. “Where did you learn to sail?” I asked. “San Francisco,” he answered simply, as if that was explanation enough. I continued to stare at him until he finally said, “Tourist stuff, mostly. Taking folks out to Alcatraz and around the bay, that sort of thing.” “So you were an adult by the time you made it to San Francisco,” I deduced. He nodded. “Barely. I was eighteen. Stayed there until I was about your age, I guess.” “Why’d you leave?” I could tell by his answer that his patience with my inquisition was wearing thin. “You already know that story, Coralie.”

“Oh,” I said softly. I knew that meant he had left San Francisco to return to Vegas, after his mother was injured. He was my age when all that happened. I hadn’t put that together before. Talk about your life-changing events. He said nothing more as he fetched the picnic basket so that we could eat, anything to keep us from talking. I ate quietly as a result, staring at the vastness of the Pacific that stretched on around us. It was a beautiful, cloudless day, and the water gently rocked us like a cradle. It was perfect, like everything else had been perfect. And yet I could only wonder about how many women he had brought here, particularly the cozy galley down below. I didn’t dare bring it up, though. I already knew better than that. Finally he sighed as he finished his glass of wine and placed his plate and uneaten food back in the basket. “What’s on your mind, Coralie? Let me have it.” I shook my head. “It’s like you said. It doesn’t matter.” “If it doesn’t matter, then why do you look so sad?” I didn’t have an answer for that. “Don’t I make you happy, Coralie?” My response was quick and sure. “Happier than I’ve ever been.” “Then what is it?” he persisted. “All this week it has felt like you wanted to say something but you keep stopping yourself short.” I shrugged. “You don’t want to talk about the past.”

“That’s right. You want to know why?” I turned to him expectantly. His eyes darkened even more. “Because you’re not there. You’re here in my present, and my future. And that’s where I want to be.” It was all lovely to hear, but it wasn’t enough. “It matters more than you think, Devlin.” “Why? Because of what I used to do?” I didn’t say anything yay or nay, but the look on my face clearly gave it away. His face hardened instantly. “Okay, you want to talk about the past. Let’s talk about Oliver.” I shook my head. “Devlin.” “Come on,” he cajoled. “You want to talk about old lovers, let’s start with one of yours.” He scooted closer. “Tell me about the first time you made love with Oliver. Where did you do it? Were you at his place? Or yours?” His breath was hot against my face as he bent towards me. “Did you make love to Oliver on the very same bed where we first made love, Coralie?” I shivered hard, and not just from the moist sea air. It was, in fact, the very same place. And I knew answering that question was a potential landmine. “Devlin,” I tried again as I turned away. He grasped my chin with his hand and forced me to look at him. “Tell me,” he commanded in that low voice that fluctuated somewhere between rage and frustration. “How did his kiss taste

on your mouth? How did his hands feel on your body? Did he worship your tits, or ignore them entirely? Did he eat you out, Coralie,” he said in a hushed voice just a hair above a whisper. “Stop it!” I snapped as I tried to wiggle away, but he held me tight. “Come on,” he urged. “If you don’t tell me, I’m always going to wonder. And fair is fair, right? You’re wondering about the women I’ve fucked on this boat, or the women who I fucked in my bed, in my shower, on my sofa, at my piano,” he added with a malicious glint in his eye as he read my darkest fears. “You can’t stop thinking about it. It’s driving you crazy. And yet, I’m supposed to take it on the chin every single time you go to work, where that asshole Oliver has made it clear he will never respect our relationship. He’s even going to touch you,” he growled as his grip tightened, “as if you still belong to him.” My eyes widened as I stared into his face. He was angry… so angry. Though it was understandable that he didn’t want another man coming onto his wife, something told me it was so much deeper than that. “Tell me,” he commanded again. “So that every single time you head to the office I can dwell about the past, getting worked up over shit that doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter, Coralie, because you’re here with me now.” He took a deep breath to

steady himself. “No, Mrs. Masters. You’re not the first woman I fucked. You’re not the first woman I took to my apartment downtown. You’re not the first woman I brought out on this boat. But you are the last woman that gets all those things, and that means something.” Finally he softened. “It means everything.” I realized then how unfair I was, to expect him to just accept my past with Oliver, when I couldn’t accept his past as an escort. “Devlin,” I whispered. “We’re the only ones who can destroy what we have, baby. Can’t you see that? It’s you and me against the world. And we can make it. We can show them all. I just need to know that you’re with me.” “Of course I’m with you,” I said immediately. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He sighed deeply as he caressed my face. “You are my greatest gift, Coralie. One I don’t deserve. Worse, I know I don’t deserve it. That’s why I can’t waste time looking back behind me. I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll wake up one day in the present and you will be gone.” I knew from the look in his eyes he was telling the truth. It was what scared him most, though I didn’t know why. He was never going to lose me. I unwound myself from his grasp to take him by the hand and lead him towards the galley, where we could

forget all about the past and christen our boat, and our future, properly.

CHAPTER FOUR

After we made it back to shore, we spent the rest of the afternoon shopping, both for home goods and for the groceries for the week. I found a print of one of my mother’s favorite Monet pieces that I could hang in our bedroom, along with decorative candles and pillows to femme up the place a bit. Devlin indulged me generously; he even paid for everything as a belated wedding gift to his new bride. The best gift of all was that we didn’t fight the rest of the evening. We made dinner together and watched a movie on the sofa, before we lost ourselves in each other yet again, clearly my favorite part of being a newlywed, hands down. I spent years of my life with questions about sex. Devlin proceeded to answer each and every one. These were the only questions that really mattered now. Learning the dirty details of his chosen profession was a double-edged sword that would only cut the both of us. It wouldn’t make me feel any better to have my worst fears confirmed, and it certainly wouldn’t help him. When the sun rose on Los Angeles Sunday morning, I had made peace with our particular past. Devlin was absolutely right.

The world was going to toss enough shit at us for things we couldn’t control. We didn’t need to be doing it to each other. I stretched my arm across the empty bed beside me. My brow gathered in a frown as I struggled to sit up, surveying the quiet room. I was just wiping the sleep from my eye when Devlin walked through the door, juggling a bed tray. “Good morning, beautiful,” he grinned. I returned his smile. “Good morning, handsome,” I replied. He kissed me softly before he fitted the bed tray across my lap. It was a full breakfast with French toast, sausages, juice and fresh fruit. Sausages, I thought. He really does love me. “What’s all this?” “I don’t need a reason to spoil my wife,” he announced as he sat beside me on the bed. He snatched a sausage with a shiteating grin. “Gretch clearly hasn’t schooled you on my passion for sausages,” I teased. “I already know how much you love sausage,” he teased right back. I laughed. “Such a naughty boy,” I mused. “That’s why you love me,” he said with a smile. I could hardly argue. “Face it. You’d never be happy with someone dull and ordinary. You like that you can never know what to expect

with me.” “Someone seems very sure of himself.” “Always,” he winked. “So how are you going to surprise me today, Mr. Masters?” Without further ado, he pulled a real estate guide from his back pocket and plopped it on top of my half-eaten breakfast. “What’s this?” “It’s a compromise,” he said as he unfolded the magazine. “I figure that it’ll be a little bit easier for you to live with my past if you don’t have to be confronted with it day after day.” His eyes met mine. “You’re right, Coralie. We need a place of our own.” I shoved the tray aside to throw myself in his arms. “I love you,” I said over and over again as I peppered his face with kisses. “Don’t get too carried away, Mrs. Masters,” he warned with another smile as he disengaged himself. “There are a lot of open houses we can get to today. You just have to tell me where we need to look.” I sat back on my heels. My brain spun with the possibilities. I had always lived wherever anyone else had lived before me, from my Father to Devlin. Where would I want to live if I could pick anywhere in the city? This question ended up being a lot harder than I had

anticipated. Several places were attractive for several reasons. Both of us loved the ocean, but we weren’t sure if we wanted to live right next to it. We thought about the Hollywood Hills, something secluded and private. Then of course there was Beverly Hills and all points similar in West Los Angeles, a place close to Cabot’s and my father’s estate. We approached the matter practically, deciding first on a price range, which I still felt necessary for us to split down the middle. “True partners,” I said whenever he bristled. I knew he wanted to support me, particularly in the manner to which I had become accustomed. But none of that mattered as much to me as his providing for his mother and Darcy, who–let’s face it–needed him so much more than I did. Thanks to my own personal investments, I had a nice monthly stipend I could depend on, even if I ended up losing my six-figure executive position at Cabot’s. Since Father and Oliver were still being such dicks about Devlin working there, I wanted to use my position as leverage should they ever tried to kick him out of the company. I couldn’t do that if I wasn’t willing to lose the position entirely, which by now I totally was. I figured as long as we maintained our expenses within that window, we’d be fine either way. The next thing we needed to decide upon was size. I was

prepared to get something cozy since it was just the two of us, but Devlin insisted that we be forward-thinking about it. “I want to have a family with you,” he said softly as he stroked my hair. This was a conversational landmine for me, considering I wasn’t ready to discuss this part of our future yet. It was scary enough that we were fucking like bunnies at least twice a day. That was Russian roulette enough, with enough orgasms to make the risk worthwhile. But there didn’t seem any real way to get around the conversation, particularly in considering practical needs for our future. “How many… how big of a family were you thinking?” He shrugged. “At least two.” “A boy and a girl?” I prodded gently, thinking of his relationship with Darcy. “Whatever combination, it doesn’t matter to me,” he assured. “It’s a little conventional for a notorious bad boy,” I sighed. “What’s a girl to think?” He wound his fingers in mine. “She should think that she’s pretty damned special, considering I never even considered starting a family with anyone before.” It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “There were never any accidents?” His eyes met mine. It was a powerful gaze that rendered

me silent. “Babies aren’t accidents, Coralie.” “I’m sorry,” I apologized immediately. “Of course not. I just meant–” “I know what you meant,” he responded tersely. He turned back to the real estate ads, effectively dropping that part of the conversation. “I figure at least a three-bedroom home. Maybe four. We could use the spare bedrooms as offices, a workout space or a guest room for Darcy when she comes into town.” “Sounds perfect,” I said, because it did. It wasn’t an 12,000-square foot house in Bel Air, but a nice four-bedroom home could give us all the space we needed to spread out, to grow… to become. By the time we headed out, we had a list of about six open houses to hit that afternoon. The experience was positively surreal. Every time we arrived at a new place, I pictured what my life would look like there. The minute we’d walk through the entry way, I was decorating the place in my head, trying to figure out what kind of furniture I might want or how I might change the wallpaper, the paint or the curtains, anything to make my environment homey and inviting, a place to retreat after a long day at the office. As we would linger in the living room, I’d think about what

it would be like to wait for Devlin to come home from work, or golfing with the guys, or the hours we’d spend cuddled on a sofa, talking, reading or watching TV. When we’d move along to the kitchen, I’d think about all the meals we’d prepare there. Most of the places we chose had backyards built for entertaining, so I always pictured Lucy and Gus joining us for outdoor barbecues and pool parties. In the bathrooms I’d daydream about the bubble baths I’d indulge, or the way Devlin and I would share the mirror as we got ready for work in the morning, side by side. And of course the bedrooms… I always wondered what it would be like to go to sleep there with Devlin every night, and wake with Devlin every morning. All of that was completely normal. What was unexpected was the way I felt when I walked into a kid’s bedroom. The walls were blue with red racing stripes, and the bed itself was a racecar. Toys lined the room, little robots that were standing guard to protect their tiny human master. On the wall were fun posters and letters and pictures all targeted for a rambunctious little boy. For some reason I started to think about Devlin and what it must have been like when he was a little kid. He hadn’t grown up in a fun room like this one. He could only daydream about something like this, which was why I supposed now he thought about giving this kind of life to one of his

children. Why wouldn’t he want children? Why wouldn’t he want to get right what the universe had obviously gotten so wrong? In that flash of clarity, I could see a little boy who looked just like Devlin, with dark hair and intensely green eyes that would likely melt my heart whenever he looked at me. Just like that I fell in love with an idea of a person, as if I instinctively knew that was someone I would meet someday. Suddenly the idea wasn’t so scary anymore. We were married, and that’s what married people did. They grew families. One day I would have his babies. That was a certainty. And when I did, I would be so fiercely protective and loyal that I would move heaven and earth to give them the life they deserved. Dev and I could do that. We were some of the lucky ones. I took his hand in mine as we walked back out to our car after Open House #3. “I liked that one,” I confided. “Me, too,” he grinned. “Right in our price range, too.” I nodded. “Even if Dad kicks me out of the company.” I slid into the passenger seat. “Don’t say that,” he grumbled as he started the car and set the navigation for Open House #4. “He’s not going to kick you out of the company.” “You don’t know that. What if he gives me some kind of

ultimatum, like divorce you or lose my job?” His eyes swung to mine in shock. “Would he do that?” I shrugged. “Who knows? I just think it’s smart to be prepared for anything.” Part of that, for me, was mentally preparing myself for the next step in my marriage. Like I said, we’d been fucking like bunnies. Eventually I was going to spin that chamber and wind up knocked up, like many other women before me. I needed to know that I could do that with or without my father. It was some serious grown-up shit to consider. By the end of that afternoon, we found two houses we liked, one enough to make an offer. It was a quaint modern Tudor built in 1926, located in the Hancock Park neighborhood just north of Wilshire Boulevard. The lavish landscape was meticulously maintained, with swaying regal palms and flower-lined pathways up a steep driveway to the house. The ceilings were vaulted, and the front room featured a dramatic wood and marble fireplace. All the floors were hard wood, and the cabinetry had been restored to its former glory. There were two master bathrooms, a gourmet kitchen and a loft that we could use however we wanted. The backyard was a virtual oasis, with a pool, a waterfall, a hot tub, barbecue, fire pit and outdoor shower.

I could see us living there from the moment I walked in the door. I was stunned to find something so perfect right away, but Devlin just cuddled me close and said, “Haven’t you figured it out? It always happens fast for us.” He then began haggling with the realtor on a price. He handled that as expertly as he handled everything else. But I figured if anyone knew about value and price, it was a gigolo. Hell, he’d put a $25,000 price tag on himself and I had happily paid it. I was feeling mighty proud of both of us as we headed back to his apartment, which paled quite a bit in comparison with the new place, even for Devlin. We stayed up late into the night, but instead of making love, we were making plans. We sat in front of a computer to window-shop for furniture, and Devlin himself drew a rudimentary blueprint of the house so we could furnish it with nothing more than our imaginations. Like I had done with Devlin, I kept that house in my imaginary cart for a while, just to see how it felt to “own” it, just to see if I wanted to commit to buy. Turns out I totally did. By the time my alarm went off on Monday morning, I nearly wanted to play hooky again, simply so I could be there the minute that they called to accept or reject our offer, which, thanks to the open house, they were considering along with two others. Real life called, however. Both Dev and I had a busy

schedule that day. He had his first photo shoot, and I was expecting my puce maid of honor gown to arrive in time for its final fitting. Though it was a size bigger, it was worse than I remembered. Instead of being skin tight, like the 14, it bagged and drooped. It was completely unflattering, so much so that my darling husband agreed. I had hoped his eyes would be a lot kinder than the mirrors I modeled in front of, but sadly it was not to be. “That has to be the ugliest dress I have ever seen,” he said. I tried to tuck and primp even harder. “It’s not so bad if you’re a size 4.” “Bullshit,” he countered. “No one can make that dress look good.” “Well, it’s not my day to be beautiful,” I reminded him yet again, echoing what I had said in Vegas when we couldn’t find a proper maid of honor dress for Lucy’s secret elopement. He walked up to me, took my hands in his and turned me to face him. “You’re beautiful every day. It’s just a shitty dress. That’s all.” I nodded. I knew that deep down. I spent the better part of the morning with the tailor, who would complete the final alterations on my dress. Finally I was able to escape upstairs, where Oliver waited for me in my office. “What now?” I snapped as I entered the room.

He stood, turning to face me. He was almost as tall as Devlin, so he could tower over me from where he stood a mere foot away. “Your father wants to see you, CC.” “What’s he doing here?” I questioned as I turned for the hall. “He’s been ill.” “He’s been stressed,” Oliver corrected as he fell into step behind me. “Look, I can’t do this with you right now,” I told him. “You don’t have a choice,” he informed me as he put his hand on the small of my back and propelled me down the hall. Father looked much more himself when I entered the office. He wore a fine tailored suit, Cabot’s, of course, and he sat tall and strong behind the big oak desk. He looked as commanding as he had always looked, and for the first time I was actually intimidated to face him. He wasn’t just my benevolent father anymore. Gone were the days when I could crawl into his lap and be met with a warm hug and loving kisses. Instead I was the naughty child who had disappointed him, and that showed in the clear blue depths of his eyes. “CC,” he greeted with a nod. “Please sit.” I quietly did what I was told. Oliver took the seat next to me, which didn’t make me feel any better about the whole thing.

This was clearly an ambush. I had seen Jurassic Park. I knew how cunning raptors hunted their prey. Father strung up my nerves even further when he surveyed the outfit I had chosen for the day. What I was wearing was perfectly professional, but I knew that the contraband from other stores would draw more of his ire. He opted not to pick that battle that particular morning. “I thought you might like to know that I got some preliminary reports from the private investigator I hired to look into Mr. Masters’ past.” “Mr. Masters?” I repeated. “You mean Devlin. My husband.” He looked like he was swallowing glass every single time I said that word. He did his best to ignore it as he leaned forward to open a folder on his desk. “Needless to say, I was quite surprised by what I learned.” I gulped hard. This was where all my dirty laundry was aired. Those reports likely confirmed Father’s astute assessment that Devlin had worked as a gigolo, and I had no doubt that everyone knew that I had hired him for a salacious sojourn to Sin City. I didn’t regret it. I wasn’t even really embarrassed about it. But I was mortified that Father had learned the truth. There was no going back to the Good Girl after that. Father dragged the moment out much longer than

necessary as he thumbed through the paperwork that folder contained, as if waiting for me to confess my sins first. My throat was dry as I managed to speak. “And?” He picked up a piece of paper that looked from the other side to be covered in numbers and figures. “And I have to say that I’m surprised you hired him as a model with a college transcript like this.” My brow furrowed as I reached for the paper. It was, indeed, a college transcript. From Stanford University. I sat back against the chair, speechless. My widened eyes quickly scanned the information, which showed how impressively he had performed while he attended my alma mater. “Spent roughly six years there pursuing a master’s degree in music,” Father went on to say. “Switched his major to business before dropping classes suddenly four years ago. According to the P.I., it was to tend to a sick relative in Las Vegas.” “His mother,” I croaked. Father sifted through a few more pieces of paper. “Yes. A domestic issue of some sort left her an invalid. Unfortunate,” he conceded. “Tragic,” I corrected. “Yes,” Father agreed. “And yet Mr. Masters, your

husband, seemed to rise to the challenge by starting his own image consulting firm within a year of returning to Nevada.” He did? News to me. I bit my tongue hard so I wouldn’t give anything away. Father filled in the blanks anyway. “According to several of his high-profile clients, he was instrumental in their success.” He held up one such testimony. “To hear Suzanne Everhart tell it, he helped her husband win his seat in Congress.” He slid a press package over to me, so I could see the beautiful older socialite for myself. And since she was one of us, Father gave weight to what she said. I, however, said nothing. I was still waiting for the bomb to drop with the dreaded word “gigolo.” But Father said no such word as he leaned back against his leather chair. “Seems like hiring him for some pretty-boy model is a waste of his talent.” I nodded, but still couldn’t say anything. My brain was reeling. Devlin had never bothered to share any of this with me. “We just… we just didn’t know where he’d fit in.” Actually if Devlin had told me any of this, I would have been jockeying for him to get an executive position from the start. Why hadn’t he told me? Father closed the folder, which gave me hope that he

hadn’t unearthed any salacious details about Devlin’s hidden past. Surely he would have said so if he had. He was practically glum to realize that Devlin was far more suited to me than he, or I, previously thought. Now that he knew that his son-in-law was a successful businessman with many of the same credentials that Oliver held, or even I held, maybe he would come around at last. “I’m sure we can find something a little more suitable,” he assured, indicating to Oliver. “Oliver tells me that one of our marketing managers will be leaving at the end of the month. That sounds like a much more respectable position for the husband of a Cabot.” I wanted to point out that I wasn’t a Cabot anymore, but I decided not to press my luck. “Of course, he’ll have to report to Oliver, the same as you do.” Father retrieved another piece of paper from his desk. It was an offer of employment on the Cabot’s letterhead, extending a management position to Devlin Masters. The salary tripled what he expected to earn from modeling, along with a generous benefits package. I was dumbfounded as I glanced back up at Father. I had expected my whole world to fall apart, but he had just handed me what appeared to be the keys to the kingdom. “Why are you doing this, Dad?”

“This is how you run a business, Coralie. You assemble the best team to protect your interests and keep your personal feelings out of it. If Devlin had walked in my office, some stranger off the street looking for a job, possessing the same credentials, I would have hired him on the spot.” I nodded as I thought about Devlin’s transcript. I would have hired him too. “Besides, you’ve made it plain that this is the path you are determined to take, my feelings be damned. Despite it all, I am your father, Coralie. It’s my duty to protect you as best I can.” I softened as I looked up at him. Still, it seemed a little too easy. “I’ll run the offer past Devlin,” I said as I folded the letter. “Ultimately it’s his choice.” “Of course,” Father said. “But do keep in mind that the longer he takes, the more likely it is we find someone else. He gets a chance because he’s currently the best candidate for the job, not because he’s your husband. I’m not going to grind my business to a halt for some kind of personal favor.” “I understand.” I stopped myself just short of asking to see what was in that folder from the private eye. I wasn’t about to let Father or Oliver know that anything in that folder would come as news to me, although it already had. Big time. I couldn’t wait to get my husband home so we could have

a little chat. Since he was on a photo shoot, I ended up going home alone when five o’clock rolled around, simply because the shoot was running late. I stopped by the store for something to make for dinner before I headed up to the apartment I hated… the apartment his escort work had paid for. Or did it? Per Father, Devlin had a legitimate consulting business, or so it appeared on paper anyway. Who the hell was Devlin Masters? I stopped myself just short of rifling through his private home office to find out. I called Lucy to talk me out of breaching that level of trust before I went too far. “What do you mean, he went to Stanford?” she repeated, as flummoxed as I was about this new information. “I saw the transcript, Luce. He had something like a 4.15 GPA. His major was music.” “Well, I guess that makes sense,” she said. “I mean, you’ve heard him play. He didn’t get that good accidentally.” No, I thought to myself. He hadn’t become good at anything he had mastered accidentally. “But why wouldn’t he tell me this? I understand not getting into the specifics of his work, but not this.” “He’s been through a lot, Ceece. Who are we to judge

how he decides to protect himself?” “Maybe,” I conceded, but it still made no sense. There were plenty of things that made sense to hide from one’s wife. How many women he’d slept with, why he broke up with old girlfriends, how hot he found other women… all of those things are perfectly understandable to hide. That he went to the same exclusive university as his wife, not to mention kicked total ass when he was there, was totally not one of those things. I had just set the table when I heard the keys rattle in the front door. I glanced at my watch. It was a little after eight o’clock. I walked around the table to greet him as he entered the dining room, and he surprised me with yet another bouquet of roses. I supposed he could afford them now. “Hey beautiful,” he greeted with a kiss. “How was your day?” What a loaded question, I thought. “Good,” I said as I took the flowers into the kitchen to put them in a vase. “How was yours?” I called back to him. “Same ol’ same ol’,” he said. I joined him in the dining room. “It’s not the most challenging work in the world, but it can take it out of you after ten hours in front of the camera.” “I wouldn’t know,” I mumbled as I took my seat across

from him. “Our loss,” he complimented warmly. I shrugged it off. “How about you, babe? How was your day?” he asked as he poured himself some wine. “Oliver behave himself today while I was gone?” There it was. That was my opening. “He was perfectly pleasant,” I said, easing myself into it. Devlin scoffed. “Clearly he’s up to something.” “That’s a little cynical, don’t you think?” His eyes met mine. “Does he play poker?” “What?” “Does he play poker? Chess? The stock market?” “He was the reigning chess champion of his fraternity,” I conceded. He smirked. “Then trust me. He’s up to something.” I sipped a bit of my own wine. “You know, they say that people who can’t trust can’t be trusted.” He scoffed again. “Ten days into marital bless and my loving wife is already questioning my judgment.” “Maybe because ten days into marital bliss, your wife doesn’t really know who the hell you are.” The hardness of my tone gave him pause. “You know me, Coralie,” he assured.

“Really? Then where did you go to college?” His jaw clenched. “What’s this about?” “Answer the question,” I demanded. “I already did,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “The first night we met, if I remember correctly.” I thought back to that first night. Technically he was right, he had answered the question. “But you made me think it was part of some made-up story,” I reminded. “That’s what you preferred to believe,” he shot back. “It’s not my fault you are some elitist who thinks that Stanford would be out of reach for a guy like me.” “That’s not it,” I insisted hotly. “Then what is it?” he snapped back. “You really think you were the first person who treated me like I didn’t deserve to be there? I worked my ass off for years, taking fewer classes so I could juggle two jobs to pay for my expenses, because I didn’t have a rich daddy at home doing it for me.” He tossed his napkin on the table before he stormed off to the living room. I was after him like a shot. “How dare you accuse me of any such thing? I’ve never treated you differently!” He swung around to face me. “Then why did you need anything more than my word that I had gone there?” I sputtered for a second or two. “I thought… I thought we

were pretending… that you were fitting yourself to me to explain how we knew each other. It was a misunderstanding that you could have corrected at any point if you had simply told me the truth. Even when we asked you where you learned to play the piano,” I started but he shook his head. He walked closer, which nearly backed me against the wall. “Really? I could have told you that I pursued a master’s degree at Stanford and you would have believed me? Funny, since you didn’t believe me when I told Lucy I was a liberal arts major at that very university.” “I thought that was part of the lie!” “Just admit it, Coralie! You didn’t think I could get into a school like Stanford.” “Fine!” I snapped. “Stanford is a university with a six percent acceptance rate, one of the most prestigious institutions the world over, with a price tag to match. You’re the one who told me you grew up with nothing, Devlin. How was I supposed to put those pieces together?” “You could have trusted me,” he pointed out. “Ditto,” I grated. He scoffed again before he plopped on the couch. “How could I trust you when you were like all the others? It really didn’t matter where I went to school, what I had learned or things I had

done, as long as I fucked like a soldier at the end of the night.” “How can you say that to me, Devlin?” “Because it was true,” he answered simply. “My job was to be whatever you needed me to be, and you needed the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks, who knew how to make you feel like you’ve always dreamed you could feel. Face it. My credentials were an inconvenient truth.” I shook my head. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You could have brought them up when we were discussing about what kinds of jobs you could do instead of escorting.” Which reminded me… “You also failed to mention that you ran your own company around that time also.” Realization dawned on his face. “So I take it your Father’s snooping paid off.” “Why didn’t you tell me, Devlin? I have been freaked out for days, thinking that Father would uncover your escort work, and you never bothered to tell me that you had already covered your own tracks.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I told you then that I had it covered. See how much time we would have saved if you only trusted me?” “How am I supposed to trust you?” I exploded. “I barely know you.”

“You know me,” he insisted again in a deadly low voice. “Do I?” I challenged, putting one hand on my hip. “I sure hope so,” he remarked. “Otherwise marrying me was a huge mistake.” I said nothing as I stared at him. The longer the silence stretched, the angrier he became. He rose to his feet. “Is that what you think?” I sighed. “I don’t know what to think,” I finally said. “I see,” he muttered before he retrieved his jacket from the back of the sofa. “Where are you going?” He swung around to face me. “I guess there’s no telling, is there?” He slammed out of the apartment without another word.

CHAPTER FIVE The hours that followed Devlin’s departure were some of the longest I had experienced since the day we met. The only other instance that could compare was the day he stormed out of our Vegas hotel room, supposedly bringing our business association to an end. He finally came back a little over twelve hours later, and in that time he had gone out with and fucked someone else. That made every second that passed stretch on forever as I stared at my uneaten dinner. The roses that he had brought home for me mocked me from the center of the table, where candles had already burned out. My phone sat on the table, but it didn’t ring. The silence was excruciating. By ten o’clock, I finally cleared the table. I put away the food. I washed the dishes by hand. By twenty after ten there wasn’t anything left to do but wait. I restlessly prowled from room to room. Everything within the apartment reminded me of our argument. Despite how he had done it, this man had amassed a certain amount of wealth, and I had treated it like it was some kind of fluke, like he had no other alternative but to fuck his way to the top. I had simply taken it for granted. He had gone from the streets of Belfast to a luxury high rise

in Los Angeles, and even managed to help out some people along the way. And here I had treated him like some mindless toy. No wonder he was so pissed. Still, I had a right to be pissed too. Sure, I had made the mistake of assuming he couldn’t have possibly gone to Stanford, but I wasn’t a complete snob. If he had truly confided his past with me, I would have believed him. In fact I would have admired him even more than I already did. I wanted to see him as a three-dimensional person instead of a fuck-toy, but he denied me that opportunity repeatedly. He had misjudged me every bit as much as I had misjudged him, which led to misunderstandings on both our parts. Worse, I knew that he would never understand that. He’d go on, playing his cards close to the vest, and feel perfectly entitled doing so. It was entirely possible that I’d never know who Devlin Masters really was. And here I was. Married to him. For life. Not necessarily, the angel on my shoulder whispered. Of all the differences that Devlin and I might have, this would certainly qualify as the most irreconcilable. Ours wouldn’t be the first marriage to fail as a result. But I didn’t want my marriage to fail. As nutty as it was to tie the knot with someone I barely knew, I knew that I would have paid any price to be with the man I loved. Without reason, perhaps,

but I loved him all the same. Every minute he stayed away felt like a lifetime. It was like my heart was missing from my aching, hollow chest. When my phone finally rang, I pounced all over it. My stomach fell when Lucy’s cheerful voice greeted my ear. “So? How’d it go?” “He left,” I managed to say without bursting into tears. But it was close. “Left? Left where?” “I don’t know.” And that was the bitch of it. I really didn’t know. Devlin Masters was a blank slate beyond what few things I had managed to pull out of him. How he spent his time, or the friends he might have spent it with, remained a mystery. He had assimilated into my life without revealing much of anything about his. “Oh, Ceece. I’m sorry.” “Stop,” I warned her. “If you treat this like it’s a huge deal, I’ll fall apart. I swear to God. “Okay. Let’s approach it logically. What did he say, exactly?” she asked. I took a deep breath before I spilled the details of our argument. She, like me, had assumed he was just fabricating a connection to explain our relationship beyond that of an escort and client. “He thinks that I think he’s beneath us. Nothing could be

further from the truth. I never felt that way. I never would have slept with him otherwise. You know that.” I may not have had a long list of lovers, but I had been fairly discriminating. Most had been in my social class. If I fucked Devlin, it was because I thought he belonged there. Why didn’t he know that? “Maybe he doesn’t know you either,” she suggested. “This is what happens when you marry someone after a week. Most of the stuff you find out when you’re dating happens after you say I do.” My voice was soft. “Do you think I made a mistake, Luce?” “You know me, girl. I worry more about regrets than mistakes. I’d rather go for the gold and lose than sit in the audience as some safe old spectator. ‘What if’ has always scared me more than saying ‘I failed.’ You can’t throw that Hail Mary pass if your hands aren’t on the ball.” I nodded. I knew that no matter what, I’d much rather be here, living on the edge with Devlin, than safe at home in Bel Air, waiting for the next big life event to cross off my list. “Part of me wishes that I could just pull the bandage right off. Just uncover everything all at once, lay it all on the table and

force him to deal with it.” She chuckled. “Yeah. That should go over really well.” “What other choice do I have, Lucy?” “You could trust him.” “Why? He doesn’t trust me.” “Then don’t you think it’s time at least one of you starts?” She let that hang in the air for a bit before she continued. “Let me give you a tip, one wife to another. If you want to be trusted, you have to extend that trust. Yes, that means you’re going to have to work through your shit. Yes, that means you’re going to have to wade through his. And yes, sometimes that’s extremely unfair. But the fact is that Devlin Masters doesn’t trust anyone, which is why all these weirdo rules are in place to begin with. You can either roll with these weirdo rules and gain his trust, like you have been doing, or you can bulldoze your way all over his trust issues. But I guarantee if you do so, it will prove to him you’re no different than anyone else. Then he’ll leave and you’ll figure out that fair has jack shit to do with love.” “I know,” I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes. It was what scared me the most. “You can either be right in this situation, or you can be happy. It’s up to you to decide, Ceece.” Thanks to Lucy, I didn’t raid Devlin’s personal files in his

office, though midnight came and went without his returning home. I took a long shower and then I crawled into bed. I tried to read a book on my tablet, but I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about was how long he had been gone. A lot could happen in four hours. Our very first date took four hours almost to the minute. Four hours was all it took to teach me what an orgasm was, and he walked away eight hundred dollars richer. “My business is a numbers game, baby. I have bills to pay.” My eyes swept the room of his luxury high-rise apartment. He paid over six thousand dollars a month for this place, which was a steep bill indeed. He drove a car worth over forty-thousand dollars. Designer suits stuffed his closet. Expensive imported champagne filled his wine cellar. He had maintained it all because he was gunning for the most elite, discerning clientele, and I was absolutely certain that he had collected a rather impressive list. My little eight hundred dollars had been a drop in the pan. Had he gone out with another client that first day we met? Had he fucked her? Had he gone out with several clients that day? Had he fucked them all? There were twenty-four hours in a day, and I had only taken up four of them. Four hundred dollars an hour. He needed fifteen hours

alone just to maintain his apartment. Fifteen hours. Fifteen different beds. Fifteen different women. Fifteen different stories. Fifteen different fantasies. “I provide the fantasy. That’s what I do. And I’m damned good at it. I have clients all over the country, women who can’t wait for me to blow into town for a weekend or a week, to give them exactly what they want, exactly how they want it.” God help me, I couldn’t help but wonder how they wanted it. How did my chameleon conform to their fantasies? Did he drop truth bombs without their even knowing, because it was just easier for them to treat him like a paper doll they could dress and pose at will? I supposed I’d never know. I didn’t know any of his former clients, though it was clear they ran in my crowd, people that my father liked and respected, like Suzanne Everhart. That idea was a little bit harder to swallow. I sighed, closed my eyes and tried to sleep. No matter what time he got home, I still had to go to work in the morning. If I was lucky, he’d make it home tonight and we could at least talk it through. I could handle work sleep-deprived as long as the issue was resolved. I decided to nap while I could, just in case. Unfortunately, the troubling day just played in an annoying,

frustrating loop in my head. My brain had recorded everything, from a visual snapshot of his transcript to the look in his eyes when he stormed out of our apartment. God, I really blew it. Finally I reached for my phone. Fuck pride. I just wanted him home. Before I could pull up his number, I heard the bedroom door open. Devlin wrestled out of his jacket as he stumbled into the room. I could practically smell the bourbon from twenty feet away. I placed my phone onto the nightstand before I settled back against the pillows and waited. Every question I wanted to ask, such as “Where’ve you been?” “Who were you with?” “Did you fuck around on me again?” would have only pushed him right back out the door for another four hours. A lot can happen in four hours… He peeled his shirt from his body, tossing it in the hamper across the room. He kicked off his shoes and then stepped out of his pants. Even in the low light he was so strong and beautiful that it took my breath away. I still didn’t say anything as he shuffled to the adjoining bedroom. I heard the shower kick on, which didn’t do anything to reassure me. “Don’t be silly,” the devil on my shoulder assuaged. He always showers before he leaves his clients.

My gut twisted even more. I practically held my breath the entire fifteen minutes it took him to shower, brush his teeth and return to bed. He hadn’t acknowledged me. He hadn’t even looked at me. He simply fell into bed with a deep sigh, closed his eyes and started snoring almost immediately. I gaped at him for long minutes afterwards. It was if I hadn’t been in the apartment at all. I wanted to smack the hell out of him, waking him up so we could resolve our issues enough that I could sleep as fucking peacefully as he was. Lucy’s voice whispered in my ear. “You can either roll with these weirdo rules and gain his trust, like you have been doing, or you can bulldoze your way all over his trust issues. But I guarantee if you do so, it will prove to him you’re no different than anyone else.” I took a deep breath and scooted down between the covers and tried to fight for sleep before morning. I turned my back on him, though. He didn’t deserve to see how difficult the process was for me. The alarm rang an hour and a half after I went to sleep. I turned onto my back, checking the other side of the bed. It was already empty. I pulled myself into a sitting position. My lack of sleep made every muscle groan in protest.

They protested more when I turned on the shower as cold as I could stand it, just to wake myself up. I sucked in a breath as the spray hit me with full force right on my chest. My teeth were chattering by the time I managed to speed wash my hair and loofah all the important bits. I wrapped myself in a towel and headed into the large walk-in closet, where I picked out my clothes for the day. I didn’t care about looking good at this point. People would be lucky if the clothes I picked matched. I was a virtual zombie as I drove to the open mall in Century City where Cabot’s was located. I honestly didn’t wake up until I walked into my office, where I found Oliver sitting behind my desk, and Devlin sitting in the chair across from him. “As you can see, the benefits package is quite generous, with stock options and a 401k that we match up to six percent of what you contribute.” As I got closer, I could see that Devlin was reading a copy of the offer of employment that was still folded away in my purse. Somehow we hadn’t gotten around to discussing that the night before. “What’s going on?” I asked. To my dismay, Oliver was the only one to answer. “I called Devlin in early so we could discuss his new position with the company.”

I looked down at Devlin, but he didn’t spare me a glance. Instead he studied the letter in his hand. “I see,” I said as I placed my purse on my desk. Oliver watched the interaction with interest. He turned back to Devlin. “Damian will be able to start training you immediately. If you’d like, I can walk you to his office and introduce you.” Devlin stood. “Sounds good,” he stated simply, still without looking at me. I thought he might have followed Oliver right out the door without saying one word, but as he passed me he grabbed my arm and delivered a hard kiss on my mouth as he squeezed my arm. Neither were the signs of affection he probably hoped to demonstrate to Oliver. In fact, his softly spoken, “Talk to you later,” sounded a lot more like a threat than a promise. I sighed the minute the door shut behind them. It was going to be a long day. After about an hour, I decided that everyone would have been better off if I had called in. I was unable to function whatsoever. I had to do every little thing at least three times, which made some of my paperwork even more tedious than it already was. I couldn’t stop thinking about Devlin. I hated that our quarrel remained unresolved. All I wanted to do was fix it. We

were still newlyweds, for God’s sake. This should have been the happiest time in our whole freaking marriage. By lunch, I was ready to march down to Damien’s office and pull him out by the ear. I was stunned that Devlin beat me to the punch. He showed up ten minutes to noon, and my heart stopped when he closed the door behind him and walked to the chair in front of my desk. “Your father has offered to take us to lunch, to welcome me to the Cabot’s team.” His green eyes were hard as they stared at me. Likely he was pissed that I hadn’t told him about the job. “I was going to tell you about it yesterday, but you left before I could say anything,” I said simply. It was an accusation, and he took it as such. “Apparently other things were more important to you.” “Yes,” I agreed. “Finding out my husband hadn’t told me the full truth about his past seemed a little more pressing. And if you had come back home at a decent hour last night, I probably would have brought it up.” “We needed time to cool off,” he said, his gaze never wavering. “You needed time,” I corrected. “Fine. I needed time.” “And now?”

“And now I need to take you to the restaurant where your father and Oliver are waiting.” That little detail was the moldy cherry on top of my crap sundae. I shook my head. “Forget it.” “You’re going.” “Why?” “Because we all have our little jobs to do, Coralie.” His mood confused me. “Just because you got lassoed into a job…,” I started, but he cut me off. “I took the job because I wanted the job. We need the money, and it’d be nice to use my education for something,” he added with a sneer. “Devlin,” I started, but he had already walked around the desk and grabbed my purse. “Come on, Mrs. Masters. Your father is waiting.” I followed him obediently out of my office, down the hall and out of the store. Since the restaurant was close, Devlin didn’t bother with the car. Instead we walked, side by side, completely silent and without touching. It was the most distant I’d ever felt from him, and he was right beside me. This sucks, the angel on my shoulder whispered. For once I agreed.

Devlin didn’t bother touching me until we got to the restaurant. He put his arm around me right before we got to the door. With disarming ease, he plastered a broad smile on his face as he guided me towards the host. “Mr. and Mrs. Devlin Masters,” he informed him. “Joining the Cabot party.” The host smiled. “Yes, of course. Welcome. Right this way.” We followed the stylish gentleman towards a table near the back of the restaurant. People turned from their meals to see who passed them. Celebrity sightings were a usual occurrence in this part of Los Angeles thanks to the theater across the street. And of course Devlin looked like a movie star, so likely they were trying to figure out if they should know him or not. For some of the wealthy women who smiled his direction, I couldn’t help but wonder if they did. It made my mood even sourer as we were seated at the table with Father and Oliver. I could tell by Oliver’s smug expression that he had assumed the upper hand in the encounter. As Devlin’s new boss, I supposed he could. Devlin, however, focused on Father. “Thank you for the invitation to lunch,” he greeted magnanimously. “Thank you for agreeing to come,” Father said as he

motioned for more champagne. “We are delighted to have you join our company.” It was a far cry from the way he had greeted Devlin when they first met, when he looked at the younger man as someone who needed to be crushed under foot… like a cockroach. Devlin apparently decided to let bygones be bygones. “It’s a wonderful opportunity,” he agreed. “We like to think so,” Father said. “My grandfather, Adrian Cabot, started the first store in 1941, in downtown Los Angeles. At first he wanted to produce military wear for the government, since my father and his brother were off fighting WWII, but my grandmother had other ideas. With the country coming out of the depression, and the war raging overseas, she wanted to give our customers hope. The world was ugly and she just wanted to make it pretty again. It was her vision of luxury and glamor that gave birth to this company; a proud tradition every single Cabot has upheld ever since. I took over things in the 1970s, which was an ugly decade in so many ways. The beauty and grace of the 40s, 50s or 60s was squashed by things like the hippie movement, the ERA and the sexual revolution. Still, Cabot’s remains the epitome of class. It’s a rigid standard, but one every single employee is tasked to maintain.” Devlin nodded. “I understand.”

“I know you do, which is why you were offered the position you were. The work you’ve done with your image consulting business is exemplary. You’ve cultivated the images of many important clients, and if some influential people are to be believed, it has even changed the landscape of the U.S. government.” I stole a glance at Devlin out of the corner of my eye. His face was a rigid mask that gave away nothing. “I take pride in my work,” was all he said, and I nearly choked on my wine. “I know that we had a rocky start,” Father said, which surprised me. “That is why I asked you here today so that we could officially start over.” “I take all the blame for our rocky beginning,” Devlin said. “I know it must have been a lot to take, with all these drastic changes, particularly from someone like Coralie, who has always been so steady and predictable before.” His eyes lit upon me briefly. “What can I say? Love makes a man do crazy things.” Father nodded. I had to wonder if he was thinking about Mother just then, and his devoted pursuit of her. “Indeed.” Devlin held up his glass. “To love,” he toasted. I couldn’t help but notice how Oliver’s smile faltered. “To new beginnings,” Father agreed with a toast of his own.

The waiter came for our order, but I was still operating on one functioning brain cell. Devlin ordered for both of us and I let him. It was one of my favorite restaurants, but there was no way I could enjoy this impromptu luncheon. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop After we were served our main entrée, it finally did, when Father explained that he had a special project for Devlin’s first assignment. “I can handle anything you throw at me, Charles,” Devlin assured. Father’s eyes traveled over my face and my outfit. “I’m sure you can. Since the project I want you to work on is my daughter.” I think my jaw may have actually hit the ground. “What?” I managed to finally say. Father sat up in his chair. “Unfortunately for Coralie, her mother died when she was very young. By the time she got around to worrying about hair and makeup and clothes, the only real feminine influence she had was Lucy Lyon. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you she is alternative at best. Certainly not up to the standard of Cabot’s.” I still gaped at Father. Was he really going to ask my brand new husband to give me an image overhaul?

Seriously?! “I’ve watched Coralie blossom in the last few weeks, and I know that has everything to do with you. Not only have you dressed her, but you’ve made her care about the image she puts out in the world. It’s something none of us before you could do. Since she is the face of Cabot’s going into the future, I consider this the most important job you could ever do for me.” My eyes swung to Devlin’s face. He remained stoic. Why wasn’t he defending me? Hell, why wasn’t I defending myself? Oh right, because my father was talking about me like I wasn’t even there. And I supposed I didn’t really have to be, since once again all the men in my life were making my decisions for me. I grabbed my purse and stood, but Devlin grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me back down again. I glared daggers at him, but that sharp look in his eyes hadn’t changed. It was almost as if he was trying to tell me to trust him. If only I could… Devlin turned back to Father. “It would make my job a lot easier if Cabot’s sold clothes that made Coralie feel beautiful and empowered and valued. That’s a big part of the change you see. We found her the right clothes, made especially for her. That’s why she blossomed.”

I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming. This was why Father wanted to take us out to lunch. He wanted to avoid a scene. I opened my mouth to make one anyway, but Devlin squeezed my wrist with his hand. “A big part of my success is that I meet people where they are. If you make someone feel important as their own unique individual, they reach higher than they ever thought to try. Forcing their choices, or worse, making their choices for them, generally always backfires. They have to get there on their own. I did that for Coralie,” he said, claiming credit that he may have been owed, but credit I certainly didn’t want to give him, especially in that moment. It was as if I were some dull old shoe he had polished. Is that really what he thought? Apparently it was, because that was the basis of his business. “I can do that for every woman that walks in your store,” he confidently promised Father, and I suspected he was absolutely correct. “And I guarantee I can make every single one of them a loyal customer as a result. Let Coralie lead the way.” “That’s the idea,” Father said. “What do you need to get it done?” I was stupefied as I watched them volley the conversation back and forth like a tennis ball. But it was my fucking ball, and

neither one had thought to acknowledge me or ask for my insight. “Clothes,” Devlin answered simply. “We need more than the handful of clothes that she has to settle on just because nothing else makes her feel good about herself.” Father didn’t say anything at first, which made me suspect that Devlin had winged him. He weighed the comment a good long while before he spoke again. “You bring me a designer,” Father said. “We’ll see where it leads from there.” I swear to God I wanted to go on a homicidal spree with the closest butter knife. I spent years– years–of my life trying to get my dad to consider expanding our extended sizes, and he had always put me off, patronizing me like I didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about, despite the research I had done and the facts I had presented. Oh, and the fact I was one of those women myself. Now he was willing to agree to it just because Devlin suggested it instead? Devlin, someone my father had considered a suspicious outsider up until the day before? Clearly he trusted him now, enough to “overhaul” me so I can be a better representation of the family brand. After the night I had spent worrying about Devlin, and the lack of sleep, I had to fight back tears of frustration. I may not have made a scene in that restaurant, but a doozy of a hissy was brewing.

I mentally crafted my verbal attack as Father and Devlin discussed the specifics of their plan. Of my plan. The only one who didn’t speak was Oliver, who sat quietly and watched the whole interaction, stealing glances at me to see how I was taking it all. At least he had figured out that what kind of slap to the face it had been. By the time the check came, I had barely touched the gourmet food in front of me. I felt bad sending it back, because I was fairly sure I would need the warm comfort from the risotto later, but I had had enough of all of it. I wanted to go home, but I couldn’t tell you which one I would return to. I felt equally betrayed by both. It was probably the only reason that Devlin kept his arm around my shoulders as we walked back to the store, even though I tried more than once to shake him off. Finally I let the dog off the chain. “How could you do that to me?” “Do what to you?” he asked. “I thought that was what you wanted.” “I’ve been telling him to expand our selection since I was fifteen years old. You know that! And now, because you’re a man, he’s going to finally consider it?”

“At least he’s considering it,” Devlin said. “You do realize that this is the break you have been waiting for, right?” “Of course,” I snapped as I tried to shrug away from him. “My break, Devlin. Mine!” He stopped us both on the sidewalk, grasping my wrist in his. “Are you listening to yourself, Coralie? This is the kind of open door you’re going to need when Darcy finishes her collection. You heard what he said. Find him a designer. You’ve got one. Win/win. Who the hell cares who opened the door? Just walk through it.” “It mattered to me,” I gritted between clenched teeth. “I’ve been fighting this war almost ten fucking years, and you won it all by riding onto the scene and firing one goddamned shot. It’s not fair!” He chuckled, which only pissed me off worse. “Life isn’t fair, darlin’. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” “I’m learning!” I yelled as I wrenched my arm away from him and stomped all the way back to the store. I had no more shut my office door when Devlin wedged a foot in between and pushed his way in, locking the door behind him. “Get out of here,” I demanded. “No, we need to get something straight first,” he said before he spun me around into his arms. His mouth crashed on mine in an instant, but I was not in the mood. I struggled to get away from him, which only made him hold me even tighter and kiss me

harder. I was pretty sure there would be bruises when he was done. It was the only thing that made me stop fighting. I couldn’t imagine how dear ol’ dad would think of his paper doll if I had bruises all over me. I had to be perfect, didn’t you know? I went limp in his arms, which finally ended his brutal kiss. His mouth still hovered above mine, almost as a threat. “I want you to listen to me,” he said, his eyes drilling holes into mine. “Remember yesterday, when I told you that Oliver was up to something?” He waited for me to nod, which I eventually did. “Now I’ve figured out what it is. They’re trying to wreck us from the inside. What better way than to ‘hire’ me to groom you? Like you’d ever stand for that.” I practically bared my teeth at him. “Isn’t that what you claimed credit for at lunch?” “I’m playing their game, Coralie,” he said. “They think that you’ll kick me to the curb by the end of the summer, frustrated and disappointed that I’m just like them. But I’ll tell you what’s going to happen instead. I’m going to play nice. Say ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ with a smile on my face. It won’t be the first time. I’m going to ace any challenge they put in front of me, even the ones that piss you off. Because at the end of the day, we’re going to start selling extended sizes at Cabot’s, designed by Darcy, and it’s going to be such a huge fucking success they won’t be able to change their

minds about it later. All I have to do is play their game until those clothes are on the floor. The consumers will take it from there. Then you’re going to get everything you wanted, and they’re going to think it was their idea.” I scoffed. “Yeah, you’re really good at that I hear.” His hand slid over my hip to squeeze my ass. “The best,” he confirmed in a whisper. “I’m a master. And now, thanks to me, you will be, too.” He kissed me again, this time much more persuasive than punishing. I hated myself for how I ultimately responded to him. At last he dragged his mouth away. His eyes were dark as he stared down at me. “I’m asking you to trust me.” I sighed as I looked away. “You’re asking a lot, Devlin.” “Not really,” he said as he finally released me and reached for the door. “Just pretend I’m your husband.” He exited my office with a slam.

CHAPTER SIX Steam was still coming out of my ears by six o’clock, when Devlin arrived at my door to escort me to my car. Escort, I thought with a snort. The irony. He didn’t say much. Neither did I. I followed him in my car all the way back to the apartment, where we parked side by side in the underground garage. He exited his car first, before waiting for me as I gathered my things and locked my car with a loud chirp. His palm landed on the small of my back possessively as he guided me upstairs, stoic and silent. It was honestly kind of intimidating, but I was still fairly pissed at this point, so I fumed all the way upstairs to our apartment. He let me go in first. I stomped all the way to the bedroom and slammed the door behind me. I wondered if he might chase after me, but after long moments passed I figured he was content to let me stew. It only made me madder. I threw off my business clothes and headed for the shower. It was time to wash this day away. A glimpse at my naked body as I passed the mirror reminded me of how my father had virtually asked Devlin to fix me, to turn me from a sow’s ear into a silk purse, his very own Eliza

Doolittle. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I may not have been tall, lean and stunning like my mother, but I still managed to make a guy like Devlin fall in love with me. Or so he said, anyway. That he could so easily agree to everything only boiled my blood even more. Was I some sort of fixer-upper or something? Had that part of the plan from the beginning? God only knew that I couldn’t fucking ask him either way. I was supposed to stay quiet and look pretty, and he got to take all the credit. By the time I finished my shower, I was even more steamed than the pristine glass stall. I stopped at the sink to scrub my face clean. The longer I stared at my reflection, the angrier I got at every guy who supposedly loved me. I was enough, goddammit! I shouldn’t have to keep proving it to the people who claimed to love me the most. An evil grin curled the corner of my mouth. Maybe they needed to be reminded how much worse I could be. I pulled my damp hair into two pig tails, which I braided. I dug through my toiletries to find a clay mask for my face, which I applied liberally. After it dried, I padded softly into the bedroom, where I fished my least form-fitting sweatpants from the drawer, topping my outfit off with a large nightshirt that added another bulky

layer. Complete with my favorite purple furry slippers, I was ready to have dinner with my husband. He had already set the table, complete with lit candles. I sat in my seat next to my plate just as he entered the dining area carrying two plates full of food. Grilled fish, some quinoa and steamed kale. At least now I knew why he insisted on doing the cooking. He surveyed my new appearance without a word before he put his plate in front of his seat and joined me at the table. He unfolded the cloth napkin across his lap, so I did likewise. He barely concealed his amused smirk. “Quite an interesting ensemble. Don’t tell me you did this all on my account.” I practically snarled his direction. “Isn’t that the idea? Clearly I’m under construction.” “Indeed,” he agreed before he dug into his flaky, perfectly seasoned grilled fish. “You’re such an asshole,” I grumbled as I stabbed the fish with my fork. “Indeed,” he agreed again as he savored the bite. “So just how long do you think it will take me to transform me from an ugly stepsister to the belle of the ball?” “Two weeks,” he said without looking up from his plate.

Why that motherfu–! “I don’t know if that’s enough time,” I sneered. “You have a lot of work to do, apparently.” Those intense green eyes finally met mine. “I can do a lot in two weeks.” “So it would seem,” I snapped. I ate some more of my perfectly healthy, perfectly proportioned dinner. “Things will be a lot nicer for you if you just got on board with everything and stopped pouting, Coralie.” I dropped my fork on the plate. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He leaned forward, putting his utensils down as well. His voice never raised, yet it still commanded the room. “No, I’m not fucking kidding you. I’m fucking trying to help you.” “I don’t need your help!” “Oh, I think you do,” he corrected in a soft voice. “Ever since the day we met, you’ve been telling me how badly you’ve wanted to expand sizing at Cabot’s, so that customers like you feel valued and welcomed. This is your chance to do exactly that, no matter what sets the ball in motion. Are you really going to let pride get in the way of your goal?” I reached for my glass of wine. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right about that,” he agreed. “I’ve never understood the poor little rich girl meme. You have more opportunity and privilege than over ninety percent of the country, but because you don’t get to stamp your name on a project and collect your gold star, I’m supposed to feel sorry for you. Sorry, sweetheart. You’re barking up the wrong tree.” “You don’t know what it’s like to be treated like you don’t even exist,” I snapped. He leaned even closer, those eyes as deadly as his quiet voice. “Don’t I?” I gulped hard. “Is that why you married me, Devlin? To prove to everyone you exist?” His jaw clenched. “I married you because I love you. How can you even question it?” “Because I don’t know who you are!” I exploded. “You know me,” he said again. “You know, I thought I did. But ever since we got back to L.A., I’ve been learning something new each and every day. Things…,” I started, but my throat closed, as if to prevent me from saying something I’d regret. “Things?” he asked. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t look him in the eye. Finally he filled in the blanks. “Things that may have made you rethink marrying me?”

I closed my eyes. That was the bitch of it. I loved him. I loved being married to him–mostly, anyway. I wouldn’t have changed anything. I would rather be in that chair, my gut eaten up by the angst of our frustrating situation, than be safe in my father’s house, safe with my ‘nice’ boyfriend, and safe playing eternal runner-up to my more gregarious friends. “It’s already hard, Dev,” I finally said. “Why do you want to make it any harder?” “The only person making it hard is you, Coralie. It’s like you need chaos to feel comfortable.” My eyes narrowed as I glared at him. “Fuck you,” I said softly. His soft voice dragged across my skin, like fingernails. “Anytime, sweetheart.” I scooted out of my chair and stomped exactly three steps before I felt his strong arm surround my waist and lift me right up off of the floor. I yelped as he carried me to his large sectional sofa, where I landed with a soft thud. “What are you doing?” He unbuttoned his shirt without breaking my gaze. “I’m going to fuck my wife.” I tipped my chin in defiance. “What if your wife doesn’t want to fuck to you?” He smirked as his shirt fell from those massive shoulders. I

nearly crawled back into the corner of the sofa. He flipped on the stereo system before he landed on top of me. “Tell me,” he challenged as his eyes locked with mine. “Tell me you don’t want me, Coralie.” He rubbed himself against me slightly, so I could feel how hard he was. His voice dropped a decibel. “Tell me you don’t want me inside you.” I shuddered. There was no way I could form the words. In his arms was right where I wanted to be, and after our night apart I was unable to resist. I decided to turn it around on him. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me. Since I’m such a fixer-upper and all.” He chuckled as he bent to kiss my neck. My eyes fluttered closed. He knew just where all my magic buttons were. “Is that the reason behind all this?” he asked as his palm easily captured one breast. “Did you really think you could wear some baggy clothes and I’d forget how goddamn sexy you are?” I shrugged. His hand cupped my face caked with clay. He leaned forward to plant a kiss soft peck against my mouth. “There’s nothing you could ever do to change my mind about that, Coralie.” “Famous last words,” I mumbled. “Feel me,” he commanded again. “Trust me.” I toppled headlong in those green eyes. How I wanted to believe every sweet word that he said. But things had changed.

Reality was closing in on our perfect fantasy, threatening to crush us in the middle. I had no idea what might be coming next. “Devlin,” I started. “Take off your clothes, Coralie.” The sexy command reverberated throughout my entire body, setting every nerve ending on fire. And just as I willed every cell in my body to ignore such a command, Devlin lifted away from me to sit beside me on the sofa. He simply watched and waited, just like the first night we met, when I had fucked this sexy stranger without a single iota of remorse or shame. I wanted him. I ordered him. I got him. And now I was his wife. His wife. The look in his face hadn’t changed in the brief weeks we’d been together. And from the tent he was pitching in his pants, he wasn’t faking any interest. He wanted to see me, even when I had done everything to turn him off. As if he read my thoughts, his hand cupped his growing erection through his trousers. “Now,” he commanded again. My hands shook as I slid off of the sofa, to stand in front of him. I peeled the nightshirt from my body, allowing my breasts to swing free. I hadn’t bothered with a bra after my shower. Let him see how they drooped from their massive weight, heavy and imperfect.

Instead of being repulsed, he easily unfastened his pants and impatiently shoved the material aside as he reached inside to cup his stiffening cock. “Touch yourself,” he said, his eyes fixed on my breasts. “Devlin,” I started again. His gaze met mine. “Stop arguing, Coralie. Obey.” As archaic as it sounded, as horribly offensive and completely chauvinistic, I had to admit that I swooned a little by his command. Deep down I knew that he wasn’t trying to overpower me by forcing me to abide by his rules. He was trying to liberate me from rules altogether. It was what he had always been trying to do, from that very first night together. Finally I cupped my breast with my hand, circling one nipple with my thumb and my forefinger to tweak the sensitive peak. I couldn’t stop my gasp if I wanted. Devlin’s head fell back against the sofa as he gasped too, squeezing his hardening dick as he watched. It was empowering to know I had that kind of effect on him. Finally I pulled down my sweatpants, kicking them free. He groaned as he jacked himself off with a little more urgency. As I walked closer to him, I caught a glimpse of myself in the large window across from the sofa and I realized that I still wore the ugly

clay facemask, which turned my dial down from sex kitten to clown. “Shit,” I mumbled I turned away, feeling so awkward and embarrassed. “Turn around, Coralie,” he said softly. I shook my head. “I look like an idiot.” I knew it was true. Not only did I look like an unfinished statue from the neck up, with layers of gray flaky mask covering most of my face, but I was wearing ridiculous braids, channeling my inner “Half-Pint” from some old TV show from the 70s. The next thing I knew I was swung into his arms again, flung over his powerful shoulder like a bag of flour. He carried me straight for the bedroom. He didn’t stop until we reached the shower stall, where he turned the hot water on full blast. He positioned me right in front, tugging my hair back by the braids. “Dirty girl,” he growled into my ear. The moistened claw ran down my face from my face as his teeth claimed one tender earlobe. I cried out, so he turned me into his possessive kiss. Wet clay slid down my face, getting all over his body and mine. It was so dirty and primal that I wasn’t surprised to feel him slide himself up into me with a grunt. He held me in place with one of the braids as his other hand curled around my torso to squeeze my breasts. His deep voice vibrated in my ear. “Do you know what it means to be claimed, Coralie?” I shook my head, too overcome to

speak. “It means that I searched my whole life to find my mate. I’ve gone through countless partners on the hunt for one special person, who was born to be mine. Someone who fits to the curve of my dick.” He pressed me into the glass. “Look at us,” he said in my ear. I glanced across the room to the large mirror that covered one wall. I watched him as he rode me from behind, bucking up into me with powerful, decisive strokes. His hand abandoned my breasts to venture southward between my legs, where his expert fingers landed immediately on their target. I slapped both hands against the stall to brace myself. I was coming hard within minutes, which always blew my mind no matter how often he made it happen. I had made love with several men before him, but none had ever been able to make me come. They inserted Tab A into Slot B and if that was enough to get me there, great. If not, well that’s just how it worked for women. They accepted it. I accepted it. Not Devlin. I came every single time we had sex. Every. Single. Time. Not just once or twice or randomly like a fluke. It wasn’t some mystery. It was biology. No one would ever think to touch every place on a man’s body but his penis and expect him to “get there.” Devlin knew just where to touch, just how to touch, and what the true objective for partnered sexual contact truly meant. The job simply wasn’t done until I reached the finish line, too.

He taught me to reach it. Expect it. Demand it. Just like a man. And now that I knew that was possible, I knew I’d never go back to settling again. Why on earth would I? I felt valued and equal, even when he was virtually manhandling me. “You belong to me,” he reminded as he sent me reeling into multiple orgasms that I had miraculously found at the tips of his expert fingers. “Nothing you will ever do will change that. I’ll always know you. I’ll always find you. I’m never going to let you go.” Fuck. I swooned against him as he slammed into me, until he came too with a roar of his own. It took a minute or two for me to stand solidly on my feet after that. He said nothing as he took out my pigtails and smoothed my long hair. After another kiss, he turned off the water. We exited the shower and he toweled me off thoroughly, including my now clean face. “There she is,” he grinned. “My beautiful wife.” He kissed me again and I completely forgot why I was so mad. When he swept me into his arms to carry me to bed, I didn’t complain. We didn’t talk about work for hours after that. Instead we made up for lost time, our dinner completely forgotten as we tangled together on his bed. On our bed. Only later, when I was sweaty and breathing hard, catching my breath after another round of orgasms (YOU get an orgasm

and YOU get an orgasm and YOU get an orgasm,) did I venture back again in dangerous territory. “So what’s the plan now, Svengali?” I asked. “We get you ready for the wedding in a couple of weeks. You show up, knock everyone’s socks off, and then we introduce Darcy’s collection to dear ol’ dad.” “What if she’s not ready?” I asked. “She will be,” he assured. “I already talked to her about it.” “Of course,” I said with a sigh. He peered at me in the low light of our bedroom. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I shrugged, so he persisted. “Tell me.” “It means that you talk to her about stuff, but you never think to let me in on the plan. I just get to roll with the punches like a good little obedient wife. More like a Schnauzer,” I snipped. “I don’t tell her everything,” he reminded. “If she knew that I’d been working as an escort these last three years…,” he trailed off, as if the ending of that sentence was too horrible to consider. I supposed for him it was. “Fine. She’s just as in the dark about certain aspects of your life as I am.” My eyes met his. “Does anyone know the true Devlin Masters?” He gathered me close. “You’re as close as anyone has come in a long, long time,” he said softly as he stroked my hair.

I supposed I had to be placated with that. As it turned out, the rest of the week was going to test my patience in a big way. After work on Wednesday, we stopped by another mall with yet another specialty boutique for extended sizes. He bought me workout clothes, since I didn’t really have anything suitable to wear. He didn’t care for my oversized sweats and T-shirts, replacing them with active wear, clothes that fit so close to the body we could watch our progress. “What progress?” you may be asking. When we got back to the apartment building, I got the answer. After changing into said workout clothes, we headed down to the executive gym available for all the residents. I was relieved to find it empty. I hated working out in front of people, particularly at gyms. It was one reason that I usually didn’t bother to join one. The other was, you know, the actual exercise part. He started us out on the treadmills, walking at first, to warm up, and then going into a full jog to get our heart rate elevated. There were only slight inclines included in the beginner’s program on the machine, but my legs burned by the time we finished. Devlin wasn’t through with me yet. Six more machines and forty-five minutes later, I was convinced everything in that state-of-the-art workout room

had been torture apparatuses lifted right from the middle ages. I was sweaty, exhausted and sore by the time a couple of other tenants joined us in the huge room overlooking West L.A. all the way to the ocean. That these two tenants were young and beautiful didn’t help much. They smelled like fresh floral bouquets in their perfect designer wear. One was an athletic blonde; the other was a statuesque black girl with a halo of ebony curls around her face. “Hey Devlin,” they both crooned together, as if they were so close they could complete each other’s sentences. “Ladies,” he smiled. “We haven’t seen you around in a while,” the blonde pouted. “We thought you’d moved out.” “Not yet,” he said. “Good,” the black girl said. “We still have to finish my training for my Ironman triathlon, you know.” “I haven’t forgotten, Simone,” he promised. “We’ll have you in fighting shape in no time.” As I watched the transaction, it became clear that neither girl paid any attention to me. They had eyes only for Devlin, and the familiar way they interacted seriously stoked the green-eyed monster within. The longer he went without actually introducing me, especially as his wife, the worse I felt about it. Instead he just pulled

out his phone and tried to find a spot in his schedule where he could assist this new person, this ebony goddess, with her training. I hated the way both women stood so close to him, as if they had the right to do so. How familiar were they? Where they clients of his image consulting business? Or some other business entirely? These were wealthy women. I’d know my own kind anywhere. That meant that they had the funds to match their interest in a man who, up until May 29th at least, exchanged his sexual favors for money. The only reason he’d quit was because he had gotten married, but he mentioned neither of these facts to these women. Instead he used that beguiling charm to disarm them. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I gathered my stuff and exited the gym. It didn’t help things at it took him a good half-hour to get back to the apartment. I had enough time to shower and change into my robe. I was in bed, reading a book and nursing a bottle of water, when he finally arrived. “A little rude to leave so abruptly without saying hello to our neighbors,” he remarked casually as he stripped out of his workout gear. I hated the way my whole body responded to him as he bared himself in front of me. “I figured if you were going to introduce me, you would have done it already.”

“Stop being so passive aggressive, Coralie. It doesn’t become you.” I watched as he walked, naked, into the bathroom. I was on his heels in an instant. “Fine. I’ll just be aggressive, then. Who were those women?” He reached into the shower to turn on the water. “I told you. They’re the neighbors.” I crossed my arms in front of me as I watched him step into the stall. “They seem mighty friendly for ‘neighbors,’” I pointed out. “It’s a friendly building,” he said before he baptized himself under the steamy spray. I scoffed as I openly gaped at him. “Are you really going to make me ask you the question?” He peered at me through the shower stall. “Are you really going to ask a question you know I’m not going to answer?” “Yes or no, do you have clients that live in this building?” He shampooed his hair. “I have all sorts of clients everywhere, Coralie.” “You know what I mean,” I snapped. “Did you ever fuck those two girls?” He chuckled, which only made me madder. “That wasn’t exactly the question,” he pointed out as he rinsed off. I put two and two together. No, I decided with a grim

expression. I supposed it wasn’t. “So you fucked them for free? How neighborly. I guess that sure beats a cup of sugar.” He turned off the shower and stepped onto the bathmat, grabbing a nearby towel to dry himself. “There was sugar involved,” he smirked before he went into the bedroom. I followed him. “Seriously? You’re going to say that to me?” He shrugged. “What difference does it make what I say or what I don’t say? You can either see the face of a woman who has fucked your husband in every woman you meet and be miserable. Or you could see a bunch of random strangers who just happen to bump into each other once and a while, and be happy that you’re the one–the only one–that has my ring on her finger. Personally I think the choice is an easy one,” he added. “But if you don’t want to be happy, that’s really kind of on you.” He slid into the bed, naked. “So. Are you going to stand there and pout all night? Or are you going to get into this bed and fuck your husband?” I glared at him. I stomped around to my side of the bed, and snuggled down under the covers, turning my back to him defiantly. He chuckled softly before he leaned over me. I prayed for mercy. If he even touched me, I was going to jump that man, anger be damned. His breath was warm against my ear.

“You’re only punishing yourself, darlin,’” he said before he reached across me to turn out the light on my side of the bed. He lingered only a second, to let me feel every hard contour pressed against me. But the warmth of his body quickly left a chill after he turned his back on me as well, likely to force me to make the next move. I simply curled myself into a tighter ball on the edge of the mattress. I replayed the incident in the gym over and over again the rest of the painfully sleepless night. I rewound the tape in my brain endlessly, trying to pick up any cues. I overanalyzed it to death, just like everything else I’d ever done. It was the one thing that had driven Oliver crazy. So I worked through each and every second from the time those two women had entered the gym. Had he taken special notice? Had his eyes brightened with their arrival? Had he been glad to see them? When they got close to him, had he leaned in towards them, allowing them to touch his arm gently, to lean their bodies close, to brush their perfect breasts against his arm? Most importantly… had they noticed the wedding ring that now rested on his finger? Had they noticed mine? Had they noticed me at all? I already knew the answer to that question. It was a

resounding NO. Why had he allowed them to ignore me? If they were merely neighbors, why hadn’t he introduced them to his new bride? Even if they were clients for his image consulting business, whipping them into the best shape of their lives to tackle whatever behemoth industry they wanted to conquer, why couldn’t he bring up that he had recently married? The only logical explanation was that he hadn’t wanted to let them know he was out of commission. And why would he do that if he hadn’t slept with them? When I had asked him if he had ever brought women to this apartment, he had stated implicitly that he had fucked other women here, but they were not clients. So what were they? How could Devlin ever suggest that I enjoyed this chaos? It left me stressed out, paranoid and distrustful. I hated the person I was becoming. And a part of me hated Devlin for pushing me that far. I punished him for the rest of the week, refusing to rise to the bait whenever he tried to seduce me. Thanks to my new workout regimen, I didn’t have to fake headaches to do that. My aches and pains were real, which left me crankier and more out of sorts than usual. That made it a little easier to rebuff all advances. I pretended to be asleep whenever he came

to bed. I didn’t move a muscle if he dared to kiss that forbidden line along the slope of my neck, the one that turned me into a quivering mass of gelatin every single time I felt his warm breath against my skin. By Friday I was coiled tight from juggling my jumble of emotions. Everything seemed to be going wrong. Our offer had been rejected for our dream house, which we hadn’t expected. It was the first real roadblock we’d faced in making our dreams come true. “That’s just not our house,” Devlin had said. I hadn’t responded. My libido and my pride were locked in a caged death match daily, to the point I felt like I might shatter like an antique vase if someone even breathed a little too close to me. Clearly I was going insane. I was in no mood for a family dinner at Father’s estate, but Devlin had already agreed to the invitation. I was grumpy all the way there. “Better let me do all talking,” he advised warily. I could tell that my giving him the shoulder all week was starting to wear on his nerves, too. This was probably the longest he’d gone without sex in a while. Good, I thought to myself. That’ll teach him to be a dick. I had no plans to make things any easier for him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He slid a cool glance my direction. “Nice attitude, Coralie. Let them see their plan is working. I think I’m starting to see why it’s taken you so long to get the things you wanted.” I glared at him, so he expounded. “Maybe that’s why Vegas worked so well. You finally took what you wanted, no matter how many ‘rules’ you had to break to get it. Apply the same principle here. You’d be surprised how far you get and how quickly.” A peevish part of me couldn’t help but notice ‘how quickly’ he’d upgraded himself, driving my $100,000 car and wearing a suit he had bought directly from Cabot’s that week, personally altered by Father’s own tailor. Way to kiss up, Dev, I thought to myself as I all but snarled his direction. We arrived at Father’s around seven o’clock that evening, via the back entrance so I could say hello to one of my favorite people on Planet Earth. Though Gretch wasn’t that big of a hugger, she threw her arms around me with a happy, warm smile. She squeezed me tight. “You’re too skinny,” she frowned as she felt my biceps. “You stay on this honeymoon too much longer and you’ll disappear entirely.” No shit, I thought. “Your father is in the formal living room. Everyone should

already be here.” My eyebrow arched. “Everyone?” “Full house tonight,” she said with a roll of her eyes. She could demonstrate that kind of insubordination because she wasn’t technically a part of Father’s household staff. She probably should have moved out with me when I married, but she had been running everything for Father for near a decade. It would have flummoxed her to do anything else. Plus I couldn’t imagine sharing a house with Gretchen when, just a few rooms away, I was doing dirty unmentionable things to my brand new husband. She’d have rightly beaten me with a yard stick. “Fine. We’ll join the others,” I said, using air quotes to make her laugh, which she did. Devlin handed her a bottle of wine. Her eyes widened when she saw the label. “How…? Where did you get this?” Devlin shrugged, wearing that disarming smile of his. “What can I say? I’m a bit of a collector.” She nodded, unable to wrench her eyes away from that vintage label. I followed my husband from the kitchen, down the hall and into the formal living room where, as Gretchen had said, everyone had gathered. There was Father, of course, and Audrey and Margot.

Oliver was thrown in for good measure, because of course he’d be shoved up under my nose at any given opportunity. Standing next to Margot was a lithe, tall man who looked like the epitome of California. His light brown hair had golden streaks from all the exposure to the sun, and the choppy style flopped lazily over his eyes, tousled and windswept with just the right amount of product. His close beard stretched along his strong jaw, meticulously trimmed. His supple skin was a shimmering bronzy color belied by the eight-hundred-dollar designer suit he wore; all I could see were swimming trunks, wet suits, flip flops and sunshine, a playboy at home on the sand or slumming it by the pool. It probably didn’t help matters any that he looked my age. Margot was an unapologetic cougar. She liked to catch her boy toys right in their prime. And from how many she’d paraded around in the past umpteen years, it appeared that they loved her too. He flashed a brilliant white smile as I approached. “You must be CC,” he said, reaching for my hand. He looked behind me towards Devlin, whose jaw clenched immediately. “If another man touches you, I’ll rip his goddamned hands off…” I easily disengaged myself and took a step back towards my husband. My husband. When was I ever going to get used to saying

that? “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” I said, sweet as sugar. He smiled wider. “Caz. Caz Bixby. I’m a friend of your Aunt Margot’s.” “He’s my personal trainer,” she purred as she stretched out on the chaise lounge. Of course he is. Next to Devlin, I had never seen a man more anatomically accurate. His jaw was squared, just like it had been sculpted from marble. From the way his clothes fit, I was pretty sure that everything below the next was just as defined. He looked like he could have stepped out of a magazine. He caught how my gaze swept over him, and I could tell by that glint in those bright amber green eyes that he both welcomed and expected the attention. Momentarily I wondered how someone far more ordinary like Oliver might feel in comparison. I glanced his direction. He stared into the bottom of his whiskey glass, saying nothing at all. Why draw attention to yourself if you only suffer by comparison? I certainly knew how that felt. “Yes,” murmured Aubrey, who sat sullenly with arms crossed. “Apparently now we just invite anyone over for family dinner.” “That’s enough, Audrey,” Father corrected in a stern voice

that left no room for argument. She simply pouted further and let the subject drop. Father made the necessary introductions. “Caz is a friend of your aunt’s. He will be accompanying us to Lucy’s wedding next week.” Father didn’t seem very happy about it, but he had never been a fan of Margot’s many torrid affairs. I wondered sometimes if Dad ever got truly angry at God for taking his sweet wife Madeline rather than her saucy sister Margot. “This is CC’s husband, Devlin Masters,” Father told Caz. Caz reached out to shake Devlin’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” “Likewise,” Devlin tersely clipped before wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “They tell me that you are recent newlyweds. Congratulations,” he said as he raised his glass of champagne. I tipped my chin defiantly. “Two weeks today,” I announced, before taking a glass from the tray Gretchen had carried into the room. He turned to Margot. “And why wasn’t I invited to that one?” he teased with a smirk all his own. “None of us were invited to that one,” Margot said. “They eloped in Las Vegas.” Caz approved. “Awesome. I love Vegas. I try to get there

every chance I get. Anything can and does happen,” he said, motioning to us. “So it would seem,” Father grumbled. He took another glass of champagne for himself. “But we will rectify that particular problem soon enough.” I swung around to face him. “What does that mean?” Father didn’t even flinch as he looked me in the eye. “You’re going to get married in a church. In front of God and in front of your family. It’s the only way it’s legitimate.” Before I could say anything, Devlin squeezed his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll marry your lovely daughter as many times as you like, Charles,” he assured with a smile. Father nodded and then waved his hand to dismiss the topic. “One wedding at a time, please,” he said. “Let’s get through next weekend first.” It was no secret that Lucy’s wedding had gone off the rails months ago. Most of us knew it was something we would simply have to endure. That included Lucy, which was why stealing away to Vegas and getting married on her own terms was so important to her. Now we were all just waiting for it to be over so we could return to our normal lives. It was going to be a huge deal. Then it was going to be over. Life could go on at last.

As Gretch herded us into the formal dining room, I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly ‘normal life’ would look like now that Devlin Masters had landed in my world. Normal went out the window weeks ago, right around the time I sent an email to a stranger on the Internet, to see if he’d have dirty, dirty sex with me. Maybe normal was overrated… We all took our seats and Gretchen brought a silver tray to the head of the table where Father sat. She revealed the bottle she had yet to uncork. It was Devlin’s gift. “From Mr. Masters,” Gretch told Father as she handed him the bottle for his approval. I watched my father’s eyes widen in disbelief as he read that classic label trimmed in gold filigree. It was a Chateau du Cabot Pinot Noir 2002, one of our award-winning wines that had recently sold at auction for more than five figures. The only wine more valuable from our vineyard was the Chateau du Cabot Madeline ’91, a sparkling pink champagne created in honor of my parents’ wedding. Only fifty bottles were made, one to celebrate each anniversary they anticipated that they would share, where he’d pledge his life annually to his young wife. Neither one of them thought he’d have to drink thirty-seven of them without her. Truth be told, he only drank one without his lovely bride,

right after my mother’s funeral, when we scattered her ashes at Chateau du Cabot. He got raging drunk and broke two more. He hadn’t touched one drop of the wine since that day. The other thirty-five bottles were in France, safely stored at a cool 50 degrees. What we were saving it for, I didn’t know. Maybe dear old Dad thought if he kept them around, one day she might return to share another bottle. Or maybe, just maybe, he was going to bequeath the bottles to me upon my wedding day, to pass their love on to me as I started a new family of my own. I felt myself softening towards him too. Dammit. He turned to face Devlin in utter disbelief over his gift. “Where did you get this?” “I started collecting wines a little over three years ago,” Devlin answered. “That is without a doubt the most expensive bottle I’ve purchased. I was saving it for a special occasion,” he added before stealing a glance at me. “What could be more special than bringing this special wine back home?” Father was speechless. He had (correctly) pegged Devlin as a gigolo, so I knew damned well that he never suspected that Devlin could be a man of such class and breeding. If there was one way to win over my Father, it was demonstrating class and breeding.

Father shook his head immediately and gave the bottle back to Gretchen. “We shall save that for your wedding. Your real one,” he added, glaring at me. It looked like the son-in-law was edging out the biological daughter yet again. Joy. The kitchen staff served the meal, and I was glad for the reprieve. It was short-lived, however. Since Dev was clearly now one of dear ol’ Dad’s favorite people, Father wanted to chit-chat about Devlin’s new project. Me. “So have you found a designer for your project?” Father asked. Dev shook his head and lied through his teeth. “I have a few I’m considering,” he hedged, and I had to wonder why he didn’t just pitch Darcy right then and there. Clearly Devlin didn’t want to show his hand just yet, though I wasn’t sure why. And it wasn’t like he’d ever tell me. “What new project?” Margot asked, glancing between the two men. I held my breath, waiting for the humiliation to commence. Thankfully, both Father and Devlin seemed loath to discuss the dirty details. “Devlin is overhauling the Cabot image, particularly the face

of our younger shoppers,” Father answered. “About damned time,” Aubrey muttered, and Father glared her direction until she shrank back against her chair. “It’d just be nice to buy something at Cabot’s that doesn’t look like I’m some fluffy debutante. I want something edgier,” she declared. “Cutting edge.” “One thing at a time,” Father growled before he finally released her from his gaze. Dev was quick to pick it up and run with it. “Actually that plays right into everything I hope to achieve. I think it would benefit us to focus on Millennials who aren’t ready to start dressing like their mothers.” “Right?” Audrey agreed at once. She glanced back at Father. “I love you, Uncle Charles, but none of my friends want to shop there. It’s much too old fashioned.” I was stunned to hear her say so. I had always assumed because she could fit into all the styles and the clothes that we sold, she could find something she would like. It never dawned on me that my beautiful, perfect niece was dissatisfied, unwilling to dress the way Cabot’s thought she should dress. She was settling. “It’s like I’m either twelve or I’m thirty. I just kind of want to be me, you know?”

“We’re going to fix that,” Devlin promised her. I could see out of the corner of my eye how that soft assurance gave my father pause. Was Devlin right? Was Father playing us so that we’d fight against each other? I quietly took notes throughout the rest of the dinner. After dessert was served, Margot turned to Devlin. “Charles tells me that you’re a classically trained pianist.” Devlin nodded and Margot grinned. “Hettie would be so proud.” Devlin’s eyebrow lifted. “Hettie?” “My grandmother,” Father answered. “Henrietta Cabot, the powerful matriarch of our family and our company. She played the piano as well, having been taught by her own grandmother on a vintage piano she inherited when she was born. It has passed down to every Cabot since her death, though thus far none of us have the talent or desire to learn how to play.” Margot nodded. “It has been sitting, untouched, in the den since 1961, when Hettie passed.” “That’s a shame,” Devlin stated. “A beautiful instrument was never built to stand silent.” His eyes briefly met mine, but I said nothing. “Then perhaps we’ll take some brandy in the den, so that Devlin might play for us,” Father decided. Gretchen nodded.

We all entered the spacious, warm den with high beamed ceiling and enormous windows on every outside wall. The furniture was old and comfortable, but classically stylish. Back when these pieces were made, quality trumped quantity, so each and every piece had been painstakingly designed to stand the test of time. There was a large white sofa, a smaller navy blue love seat and various chairs printed with white and blue patterns. And in the corner was Great Grandmother Hettie’s grand piano, made of rosewood that had been carved with ornate detail. It had been built in the late 1800s and was worth six figures, which was the main reason why I had never been encouraged to learn how to play, despite the fact that Great Grandmother Hettie had bequeathed that it would always be tuned every single year for as long as the family owned it, maintaining care in anticipation of its use. I could see the wonder wash over Devlin’s face as he approached it. It was truly magnificent for those of us who weren’t musically inclined. I could only how much someone who actually spoke its language would appreciate it. He lovingly trailed his fingers along the lid and the fall board as he rounded the table to sit at the bench. He revealed the keys slowly, like a lover, before he brushed his hand ever so lightly upon them. I shivered a bit, because I knew exactly how it felt to be in that piano’s place.

He closed his eyes as he summoned whatever piece of music he could dig out of his soul, and began to play a piece I didn’t recognize. It started slowly, almost haltingly, increasing the tempo almost frantically as he moved through the music, his eyes closed, his head tilted to one side, with a slight grimace on his face as his deft fingers chased one note after the other across the keys. I stole a glance at my family, all of whom, as well as Caz and Oliver, stared in shock as my husband expertly played the piano, pounding out a song of intense urgency and longing. In those notes I heard the tortured, silent screams of a lonely soul. Devlin embodied this character, demonstrating a range of emotion through the twelve-minute masterpiece. One moment he pounded the keys in a rage, the next he caressed them softly, like a whisper, leaning closely towards the keyboard as if he strained to hear each and every echo. Everyone present was captivated by his dynamic performance. I sat a little straighter as well, proud to call this incredibly talented man my husband. Mine. I even spotted Gretch wipe a tear towards the end, overwhelmed by the stirring performance. She was the first to lead the applause when he was done. Father was the second, much to my surprise. “That was exceptional, Devlin,” he complimented, which was warm praise for the likes of my father. “I didn’t

recognize the piece. Which was it?” Devlin covered the keys. “Schumann’s Fantasie in C,” he told them as he rose from the piano and joined me on one of the smaller sofas. I saw Gretchen beam with pride, having recognized the German composer. “Truly remarkable,” Father repeated. “Have you ever given serious thought about playing professionally?” “A long time ago,” Devlin admitted. “Like many foolish dreamers, I had to grow up and become more practical.” Father nodded. He understood that. “Do you plan to teach your children to play?” “Absolutely,” Devlin answered at once. “I was in front of a piano from the time I was three. Those were some of the best years of my childhood.” “A child should have a passion,” Father agreed with a nod. “Sadly, CC never really demonstrated a passion for anything specific.” My eyebrow arched as I stared at my father. Is that what he really thought? “I designed my own clothes in high school, Dad.” “That’s not the same, Coralie. That was a hobby. A passion is something you cannot dismiss simply when it proves inconvenient. Passion demands discipline.” He turned back to Devlin. “Her mother was a competitive tennis player and an artist,

even when she wasn’t particularly skilled at either one. They still brought her such joy that I had hoped she could pass it along to our children. But neither of those things appealed to CC.” I tried not to let the steam escape my ears like a pressure valve, but my blood pressure spiked toward the danger zone. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Father had already moved on to another topic. “Do you have any other creative people in your family?” I turned to Dev, too. This was the perfect opening to tell Dad about Darcy. Then maybe we could drop this farce of a makeover routine a week early. “My mother encouraged all of us to be creative in our own ways,” Devlin dodged instead. He turned to Gretch, indicating for a refill on his brandy. “Smart woman,” Father nodded. Devlin said nothing. I touched his hand and his intense gaze met mine. “Have you ever taught anyone to play the piano?” Aubrey asked. “A few,” Devlin answered, which surprised me. “Perhaps you could teach me,” Aubrey suggested. “Seems a waste of a good piano to just let it sit here day after day in silence, especially when you can make it sound like that.” He grinned. “Thank you,” he said graciously. “And I would

love to, provided it fits into our schedule,” he added, glancing back at Father, who nodded. I couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t likewise checked with his wife. So much for being Priority #1. “There is always time for art,” Father declared. I could tell by the way he said it that he was once again mourning my mother, the true artist and visionary of our family, much like Great Grandma Hettie before her. “Audrey, really. You should ask CC how she feels about that,” Margot mused in that self-contented purr of hers. “It’s her husband you would be stealing away for hours on end after all.” “That’s not a problem if she’s taking lessons herself,” Caz offered with a smile. “I can teach CC tennis lessons at the club. Everyone learns something new.” I didn’t like the way he flashed that smile at me, and I was pretty sure my new husband wouldn’t like it either. I shook my head. “Sorry. No time for anything like that.” Father chortled. “See?” he said to Devlin, as if to make his point that I had no passion, nor desire to discover one. I glared at him before turning back to Caz. “On second hand, it might be fun to take up a new hobby,” I said, hitting the word ‘hobby’ a little harder than the rest while I looked pointedly at my dad. I felt Devlin bristle beside me. I knew he wouldn’t be

pleased. But if he wasn’t going to defend me, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to control me either. Devlin curled his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close against his strong chest. “We’ll just have to see when we could fit it in,” he told Caz with a similar pointed stare. Caz didn’t waver. Instead he stood up, pulled his wallet from his back pocket and withdrew a card. He walked towards me and handed it to me, all the while looking at Devlin, almost daring him to intervene. “Let me know as soon as you can,” he finally told me as he flashed a grin. “I book up fast.” I watched Devlin’s jaw clench out of the corner of my eye. I simply nodded at Caz and put his card inside my purse. Caz lingered only a second longer than that before he returned to Margot across the room. Fortunately for me, Devlin opted to leave shortly after. And because he used a full day of hiking the next day as his excuse why we needed to leave early, Father allowed it. Devlin was quiet as we walked out to the car. He said nothing as he held the passenger side door open for me to get inside, closing it with a soft click behind me. I watched him walk around to the driver’s side, his jaw still locked with effort to hold it together.

I knew everything was going to fall apart soon, I just wasn’t sure when. Surely he’d tear into me because I had accepted Caz’s card, but he had to know I only did it to shut up Father. I had no interest in taking tennis lessons, particularly from one of Margot’s current playthings. I could barely stand to have dinner around one as it was. Devlin slammed his car door softly behind him before he silently fastened his seat belt. He turned the key and put the car into drive, easily navigating the rear exit beyond the garages. Finally, when we were far enough away from the house, I tried to mitigate the damage. “You know I’d never take lessons from Margot’s slimy boy toy, right?” “You’re goddamned right you’re not. You’re never to talk to that man again.” His voice was laced with hostility, and his eyes flashed with anger as he turned to face me. “Do you understand me, Coralie?” My eyes narrowed as I stared at him. “So let me get this straight. You can train some enchantress for her Ironman triathlon, and possibly my beautiful niece on the piano, but I’m never to do anything with another man ever again?” “Not that man,” he growled. “Why not?”

“Coralie,” he started in a foreboding voice, but I was over it. He was the one being unfair and unreasonable. He expected me to take it on the chin every time he interacted with some woman, but I couldn’t even take fucking tennis lessons? “I’ll take them if I want to take them,” I informed him coolly. “Coralie,” he repeated, his jaw clenched tight. “You want me to trust you? Then trust me. I would never betray you, Devlin. And you know that.” He was silent for a moment before he finally sighed. “It’s not you I don’t trust.” “What are you talking about?” “Caz Bixby isn’t just some fitness instructor or sports trainer,” he informed me in a resigned monotone. My gut tightened. “How do you know that?” “I know everything about Caz Bixby,” Devlin finally admitted. “He’s a gigolo, Coralie. Just like me.”

CHAPTER SEVEN I didn’t speak for a full minute after Devlin’s shocking confession. I couldn’t process it at first. Aunt Margot hired men for sex? The entire concept was unthinkable. She was beautiful, one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, next to my mother and Lucy anyway. Why on earth would she hire some gigolo? Why on earth had I? Worse, Caz clearly knew I had hired an escort of my own, hence why he toyed with both of us with that silly invitation to learn tennis. “Shit,” I uttered at last. “To say the least,” Dev muttered. “What do you think he wants?” I asked. Devlin just shook his head. “I have no idea. We weren’t exactly what you could call close. We knew each other. We worked several of the same venues and parties, the same crowds. The same women,” he admitted, though he seemed quite reluctant to do so. It just proved how serious our situation was. He wouldn’t have shared this with me if he wasn’t concerned. “He’s cocky, one of the reasons I never wanted to be around him. He knew how to work people. A true hustler in every sense of the word. Always chasing after the big payoff with little risk or work. No doubt he will

make a play for some money to keep his silence.” “Then we pay it,” I decided at once. “No, we don’t,” Devlin corrected. “It’s not worth blowing the progress we’ve made, Dev. We’ve got the extra money. If we can just pay him to go away…,” I started, but Devlin quickly interrupted. “You pay him to go away and you’ll never be rid of him. He’s like a roach, Coralie. There’s only one way to deal with a roach. You stomp him the fuck out.” Dread gnawed at my tummy. “What does that mean?” His eyes met mine. “It means I’m not going to let some dime-store punk wreck my happily ever after, that’s what it means.” He leaned back against the seat. “I’m not the only one with secrets.” “Is there any point in my asking?” I said. He sighed. “Is it impossible for you to trust me, Coralie?” “Is it impossible for you to trust me?” I shot back. “This is not like your world,” he dodged again. “These people…,” he started, but then trailed off. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he finally said in a soft voice that tugged my heartstrings despite myself. “Then let me in,” I implored, just as softly. “The only thing that hurts is when you shut me out. I trusted you enough to jump

right into your world. All I want is to be a part of it. I love you, Dev.” The words lingered in the dark car for long moments afterwards. With another sigh, he grabbed my hand in his and kissed it gently. “You make me feel like I can do anything when you say that.” “You can do anything. We can do anything,” I amended. “We can have it all.” He gripped my hand in his. “We already have it all. I have you. That’s all I need.” It warmed my heart to hear him say it. It was a relief to hear him say it. After all that we’d gone through that week, it made little sense to keep punishing each other. He needed a reminder that I was his wife. And he could trust me. I unfastened my seat belt and leaned across the console, unbuttoning his trousers as I buried my face in his spicy neck. He groaned as he leaned into me. “Coralie,” he moaned softly. “Shh,” I whispered against his ear. “Trust me.” I coaxed his erection with one persistent hand as I nuzzled his neck, taking possessive nips out of his skin. He was mine and I could claim him that way. He responded by scooting down into the bucket seat of my car, to give me greater access to his hardening shaft. It rose to meet my hand. After a week apart, I supposed little Devvy was

happy to see me too. I found myself unable to resist kissing my way down along his neck, across his chest until my head was completely in his lap. He gasped as I released him from his binding underwear. The cool air from our open moon roof rushed against us. I grinned at him. “Take the long way home.” We were already up in the hills, which made it a lot easier to obey my request. I felt him tremble beneath me as his free hand clutched a handful of my hair when I slid my mouth down on him, luxuriating over each silky inch of flesh. I was in total control and he was at my mercy. He didn’t make it very far before he finally pulled into a darkened dead end street. He turned off the lights of the car before he slid his seat back as far as it would go. He grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap, where his engorged cock throbbed for me. I throbbed for him too. I undressed quickly, just enough to end our torturous days apart. We watched out of our tinted windows for any movement around the car. Oddly the thought of being caught only made it that much hotter. He shoved himself up inside of me, fast and hard. I gasped out loud but bit back any scream. The moon roof was still open, after all, and it was a sleepy little neighborhood.

Devlin, though, shook his head. “Don’t you dare hold back now, Mrs. Masters,” he murmured as he watched my face while I rode him. “You held back from me all week. Not anymore,” he whispered against my skin, sending shock waves throughout my entire body. He angled himself just an inch to the right and slammed up inside of me, hitting that one spot that made my eyes roll back in my head. I gasped louder, but he wasn’t satisfied. He grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged my head back, forcing me to look at him. “Let them hear you scream while I fuck you,” he said before he kissed me hard. I held out as long as it took him to release one of my breasts for his hungry mouth. By the time he had my hardened nipple between his teeth, I was certain I’d wake up the entire block. He arched up inside me, his fingers biting into both of my ass cheeks as he slammed me down on top of him over and over again, until I was coming hard and screaming even harder. His cries mixed with mine as he caught the tail of my climatic comet and flew into the stratosphere with me. He held me down on top of him as he released himself, pulsating inside of me like another heart beating. I reached for a brief kiss before I untangled myself from his grip. Lights had turned on at the nearby house, so we had to compose ourselves quickly and head on down the street before anyone came out to see what caused all the

ruckus. When we got home he carried me to our bedroom, where we spent the rest of the evening making up for lost time. Hours later, as the witching hour descended on the City of Angels, we collapsed together in a sweaty, exhausted heap, sore but happy. He gathered me into his arms and held me tight. “Never make me wait again,” he growled against my ear. If only he knew that I couldn’t make that promise, simply because he couldn’t promise anything to me. He would still keep much of his life secret from me, and that was the thing in between us. “Never give me a reason,” was all I could say in response. He pulled away just a bit to stare down into my face. Finally his hand caressed my cheek. “You know that song I played tonight?” I nodded. “It was written by a man crazy in love with a young girl he couldn’t have, because her father, and his teacher, forbade their romance. So he composed music for her to play on the piano, a special message to express the longing he had to be with the one he loved. It drove him crazy,” he said softly. “Can you imagine what it would be like, to be separated from the one you love? To be told you can’t be together?” Again I nodded, but this time a little slower. The thought was too depressing to entertain. He chuckled deep in his throat as he caressed my face. “Ah, my poor little rich girl. You may think you know, but you

don’t. Not really. You don’t know what it’s like to hunger for something so badly it tears at your gut, an itch you can’t scratch. An ache you can’t satisfy. And that sucks for you,” he said as his eyes met mine. “Because you’ll never experience the true joy of truly getting what you’ve wanted. What you’ve always wanted. The highest highs are made possible by the lowest lows.” His voice dropped. “I’m on top of the world when I’m with you, Coralie. That’s why I asked you to marry me even when we had no fucking clue that we knew what we were doing. And yet there you were. Everything I’ve always wanted. I wasn’t going to give you up. I’m never going to give you up,” he repeated as he held me tighter. I felt him tremble in my arms. “Never push me away again.” “Devlin,” I started softly, but he silenced me with a kiss. “Never,” he repeated. “Promise me.” His soft, supple lips toyed with mine mere seconds before I found myself obeying his urgent command issued between hungry kisses. “There’s only one truth that matters anymore. I’d lose myself without you. We’re all we have, Coralie,” he murmured against my neck. I nodded and held him close, though I couldn’t fall asleep for hours. He woke me with tender kisses as he prowled down the length of my body, almost as if he was testing my promise never to

push him away. And of course I didn’t, because no one could ever make me feel the way Devlin Masters did. I was at his mercy every single time we touched, which was so much better than being mad all week. By the time we left the apartment Saturday morning, to make good on Devlin’s excuse to go hiking, I was in a much better frame of mind. It was amazing how a string of mind-blowing orgasms could shift perspective. It even left me ready to tackle the hilly trails at Griffith Park. There was barely any snark at all in my comment when I asked, “So is this part of the plan?” while we trudged up the incline on the first hill. “Because I hate to tell you, but I’ll never mirror the other perfect bridesmaids in six days, no matter how many hills I climb.” “Your mistake is thinking I want you to mirror them,” he said as he set our brisk pace. “So what’s the objective?” He turned to face me. “You’re going to outshine everyone in that wedding party. Lucy included.” I chortled. “Not in that puce monstrosity I won’t.” He shook his head as he chuckled as well. “For a girl with such privileges, your thinking is so limited. Why is that, Coralie?” I couldn’t deny it even if I wanted to. I shrugged. “After

Mother died, it seemed pointless to expect anything but the other shoe to drop. Yes, I have money and clothes and a car and a nice home. But I’ll never have her again. And I may not know what it’s like to go without, or to make things stretch, or face the sheer spinning Russian roulette chamber with everything that happens in everyday life, but I do know what it’s like to want something you can’t have. And I know what it’s like to think that is what you deserve.” He stopped us on the trail, standing right in front of me and taking my hands in his. “So now you know what your life looks like living by those rules.” He thumbed my wedding rings. “And you also know what your life looks like breaking them. Tell me which makes you happier.” “You know the answer to that,” I said softly. He began walking backwards, pulling me by my hands, leading me up the hill. “Then fuck what they think. We’re not doing this to shrink you, Coralie. We’re doing this to make you so fucking big no one can ever ignore you again.” He started to jog, pulling me along with him, picking up the pace, practically running backwards up a hill he couldn’t see. “I trust you to stop me from going off this cliff. Trust me to get you to the top of it.” “Devlin,” I started, but he shook his head. “Trust me.”

My eyes locked with his. Finally I took a deep breath and nodded. He ran backwards almost all the way up the hill, and I kept him from going off the trail. In return he brought me to the first minor summit, where I could look out into the L.A. basin, so vast under a blazing summer sun. He wrapped his arms around my waist as he held me from behind, burying his face in my glistening neck. “Worth it?” he asked. I turned slightly to face him, perpetually lost in those incandescent green eyes. My husband… my dream come true. I could only nod in answer to his question. Yes, it was worth it. He was worth it all. It was even worth the minor fight we got into on the way home, when Caz texted Devlin to meet him for drinks that evening. “You’re going to go meet him? Why?” “To see what he wants,” Devlin shrugged. “Invite him to the apartment,” I suggested. “Then he can see that he doesn’t exactly possess the ace up his sleeve that he thinks he does.” Devlin shook his head. “He doesn’t need to know that you know.” “Why not? If he thinks that his information is useless…,” I started but Dev was quick to cut me off.

“Then he’ll sell that information to the highest bidder. Like your aunt. Or your father.” His eyes flashed as he turned back to the road. “We’re not going to show him our hand yet. We’re going to give him enough rope and see if he hangs himself with it first.” I supposed he had a point. “Maybe I should take these classes with him, then,” I suggested, which made Dev’s head whip around like a boomerang. “Like you said, maybe if he thinks he can manipulate me, he won’t bother with Father or Aunt Margot.” Devlin shook his head. “I don’t want you near him, Coralie. You don’t know what kind of man he is.” Technically the same could be said of Devlin, but I didn’t dare point that out. “You keep asking me to trust you, Devlin. Don’t you think it’s time you trust me? We’re all we’ve got, remember? So let me help.” His eyes met mine again. After another long sigh he turned his attention back to the road. “Fine. I’ll trust you. But whatever you do, you cannot trust him. Whatever he says, you mustn’t believe him, Coralie. Even when he speaks the truth, he does it for a dishonest reason. You understand?” I nodded and he reached for my hand. We didn’t say much more than that on the way back to our apartment. He was out the door within ten minutes of our arrival, to meet Caz at a nearby bar

where they could ‘chat.’ I practically pounced on him when Devlin returned, alone, a few hours later. “What did he want?” “Money,” he sneered as he took off his jacket and hung it on a hook by the door. “Like I suspected.” I followed him into the living room where he poured a shot of bourbon at his bar. “Says if I pay him quickly and quietly, then he won’t tell my blushing bride about my scandalous past.” He toasted me with the crystal tumbler before he guzzled it in one shot. “Are we going to pay him off?” “Fuck no, we’re not going to pay him off,” he barked as he refilled his glass. “So what can we do?” He drained the drink before he placed the glass back on the bar. He turned to me. “We’re going to go to the wedding next week, just like he will. And at the reception, he’s going to ask you to dance. He’s going to hold you inappropriately, just to get to me, to make me lose my temper. Meanwhile he’s going to pitch these phony tennis lessons to you, just so he can get you all alone. He’ll flirt. He’ll test your boundaries. And at the end of the night, you’re going to hire him as your personal trainer.” That was a far cry from taking a few bogus tennis lessons. “For how long?”

“As long as it takes,” he stated simply. “If he thinks he’s got something over on me, he’ll preoccupy himself with that, rather than sabotage us with your father. That’s never been his true objective anyway. He’s going to try to get close to you and you’re going to let him, if only to keep him distracted until we can figure out a way to handle Caz Bixby once and for all.” There was an ominous threat in his voice, which scared me. I tried to laugh it off. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?” His stormy eyes met mine. “Only if he fucks you.” It was such a definitive statement that it made my blood run cold. I wanted to believe that he was employing hyperbole, but the look in his eyes was as cold and ruthless a look as I had ever seen. My stomach recoiled immediately, so I did my best to defuse the situation. “Nobody fucks me but you,” I assured him quietly. He killed his drink, put the glass on the counter, and joined me where I stood. “You’re goddamned right about that,” he said before he crushed me to his body. That night we didn’t make it past the front room.

CHAPTER EIGHT The week leading up to Lucy’s grand wedding was understandably chaotic, but for some reason I just wasn’t equipped to deal with it. Frankly I was exhausted. It was hard work keeping up with Sylvia Lyon on a good day, much less the dozens of last minute plans left to finalize, particularly with the bachelor and bachelorette parties. Thanks to the tightly packed itinerary, Devlin and I were apart more that week than we were together. My weakly charged battery was my own to manage. As much as I needed to talk oneon-one with Lucy that week, we were likewise preoccupied with all the events Sylvia Lyon had planned for the large bridal party. So I kept the disturbing development with Caz Bixby to myself, because the time simply wasn’t right to discuss it. Only Lucy would understand my predicament, but I’d have to wait at least a few more weeks before I could seek her wizened counsel. After the wedding they were flying right to Hawaii for a two week honeymoon. By the time she came back, there would only be a couple of weeks before I flew to France to spend the month of August, the first of such annual trips I would be taking with my husband.

I hadn’t planned on taking it at all, given all the time I’d missed with work. But Father surprised us with the tickets that Tuesday evening, when we joined him for dinner at his estate, just the three of us. It was another command performance that Devlin didn’t think we should miss, even though the week already promised to take a huge toll on me. I juggled the stress of meeting Father’s expectations, the stress of playing the good little maid of honor for the micromanaging Sylvia. Not to mention all the new stress that Caz Bixby had introduced into my life. It all left me ready to puke at any given moment of every given day, especially when I thought about trying to trap Caz at the reception like Dev had planned. I felt physically sick every single time I thought about being alone with him, especially because I knew that it would become the first, and possibly the most defining, trust exercise between Dev and me. That dinner with father further demonstrated when it came to earning any trust, the lion’s share of the work belonged to me. Devlin, as always, was playing his own game. Devlin had politely declined Father’s vacation at first, citing all the work we would have to do as reason enough to stay stateside. “Consider it a belated honeymoon,” Father had suggested

as he rolled around his desk to talk to us more directly. Of course I couldn’t let that slide. “I thought you said I wasn’t married,” I pointed out, ignoring the warning glare that Devlin sent me. “Yes, well, we’ll deal with that by the time you come back. I think we’re all a little wedding fatigued at the moment.” He had no idea. Lucy’s wedding on Friday was the third one I had attended, or been a part of, in the past month. Quite frankly I was over it. Father poured another glass of brandy. “In the meantime this time away in France will give you best education one can offer about being a Cabot,” he said to Devlin, never once considering that Devlin might not want to be a Cabot at all. Such a thing was unthinkable to Father, who was proud and protective of his heritage. “Chateau du Cabot is a scrapbook of our past as well as a blueprint for our future. Speaking of future,” Father segued, “what is your five-year plan?” Father was a meticulous planner. I was certain he planned everything down to the letter, to avoid any nasty surprises. The only thing he hadn’t planned upon was meeting my mother and falling in love. And of course, he never could have planned to bury his much younger wife long before he himself started courting the grave. Maybe that was why he felt the need to control my life,

I thought. It was a powerful insight that was stomped right under foot of Devlin’s unexpected, and definitive, reply. “I plan to be heading up this new clothing line at Cabot’s while Coralie tends to our two children at home.” I practically choked on my brandy. I knew better than to correct him in front of Father, but he was definitely going to explain that one when we got home. Father simply nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Good. I’m glad you’re thinking ahead to children. They are the only things that matter. This company is nothing but brick and mortar without the family to run it. Our bloodline,” he said, glancing at me, “that is our legacy.” Devlin wrapped his arm around me. “I feel exactly the same way. Coming from a small, fragmented family, nothing means more to me than providing a stable, loving environment for our future children.” His eyes met mine. “I personally have always dreamed of starting early enough to have a large family. Four at least.” More new information. It was like living in my own personal game show. What Will I Learn About Devlin Masters Today? Father simply nodded. He liked the sound of that. “The

Cabots, unfortunately, have always wanted more children than they have produced. Coralie is an only child, as was I. My father had only one brother, who died in WWII. All the other members of my grandfather’s family stayed behind in France to run the vineyards.” He glanced around his opulent study. “But this house was built to be shared. Our chateau near Châlons-en-Champagne is a virtual tomb now without a large family to inhabit it. Nothing would make me happier than to welcome a grandchild or two before my time here is done.” “Don’t talk like that, Dad,” I chastised at once. “You’re going to be around a long, long time.” He bestowed a benevolent smile. “You are too kind, my dear. But even I can hear the bells from a distant clock. As it should,” he added as he swirled his brandy in the large snifter. “The circle of life and all that. But I will just say that if you come back from France expecting your first child, I would be exceptionally pleased.” My jaw nearly hit the floor. How had we gone from his threatening to annul my relationship to setting a timer on when I should get knocked up? “I think it’s too soon for that.” I immediately shied away from the topic, ready to slam on the brakes. I had just claimed control of my life. I wasn’t ready to get out of the driver’s side yet.

“You’d think so,” Father mused. “But time is a funny thing. I always thought I’d have time with your mother to have another child like we always wanted.” My parents had wanted other children? They had never mentioned any such thing to me. Was that the reason Father was always so disappointed in me? He was always wondering what could have been? Suddenly I felt even worse. Devlin was quick to step in. “What Coralie means is that we’re still technically in our honeymoon phase. We’re talking about children, but we haven’t reached any real timeline as yet. There’s still so much to be done, with this new clothing line especially, but also with buying a house. Our last offer was outbid, so we are still looking for a permanent home built for a family.” None of that computed for Father. “You have a permanent home right on the estate.” “We wanted something of our own, Dad.” He dismissed my comment with the wave of his hand. “Please. Don’t be ridiculous. This is your home, Coralie, and by default yours as well, Devlin. When you have children, they will stay right here in this house, in the west wing. Honestly, I can’t think of anything that would make me happier.” Devlin grabbed my hand and squeezed, a silent plea for my silence. I gave him a barely imperceptible nod, so he said, “Another

generous offer, Charles. But we will have to think about it. It was very important for both of us that we do this on our own.” “You are family,” Father said. “You are never on your own.” It gave us a lot to think about on the ride back to our apartment. I turned to face him in the darkened car. “So when were you planning to spring the whole big family thing on me? When my water broke on kid #4?” “We have plenty of time to work all that out,” he dismissed, which only ticked me off. I was sick and damned tired of being dismissed. It flipped the bitch switch and it was beyond my ability to turn it back off again. “Don’t be so sure. I only have a finite number of eggs. Every month we go without a baby, another soldier for the Masters army is lost forever.” “Jesus Christ, Coralie,” Devlin gritted. “Why do you have to turn everything into a battle?” “You’re the one who wants an army of kids; you should probably strike while the iron is hot. I’m not getting any younger, after all. In a couple of months I’ll be twenty-four,” I sneered. “Doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for makin’ babies.” With a growl, Devlin pulled into the closest convenience store, threw the car in park and slammed out. I didn’t move a

muscle. I was fuming, too. I married Devlin Masters so that I could take charge of my own fate. Now he was trying to plan my life and make my decisions just like my dad. That was not going to fly. He exited the store five minutes later carrying a large paper bag, which he slid into the backseat. I could hear the clink of bottles, so I knew my Irishman had purchased the items to get him blissfully inebriated. And of course, I couldn’t let the moment go. “Let me guess. No condoms?” I asked. His eyes were stormy as he glared at me. “If you were smart, you’d shut up for the rest of the ride home.” “Why?” I challenged with the tip of my chin. “Are you going to hit me?” I only thought Devlin was mad before my flippant comment. His face drew up into a cold stone statue as his green eyes blazed. He leaned towards me, backing me up against the seat. “How the fuck are you going to say something like that to me?” I was reminded in an instant of everything that had happened with Darcy and his mother. Immediately I knew I had crossed the line. I gulped, licked my lips and shrank against the seat. “I’m sorry,” I said, because it was the only thing I could say. “You’re goddamned right you are,” he snapped before he gunned the car out of the parking lot. I didn’t say anything else till

we got to the apartment garage, where he remained seated in the running car, staring ahead, as he waited for me to exit. He wouldn’t even look at me. “Aren’t you coming upstairs?” I finally asked. His jaw clenched. “No.” “Devlin, if it’s about what I said–” “Go upstairs, Coralie,” he practically hissed between clenched teeth. “Now.” His anger intimidated me. My voice was small when I asked, “Where are you going?” He took a deep breath before he turned to face me. “We need a little space to think.” Since he was already mad, I figured my next comment couldn’t make things worse. “So you’re going to run away again?” His jaw clenched. “If you’re so worried about people running away from you, maybe you should stop pushing them away.” “Dev, I said that I was sorry–” “And I said to go upstairs,” he cut me off with his cold, clear command. “Now.” We stared at each other for long seconds in the car before I finally gathered my purse and exited. He peeled out of the parking lot, leaving behind the smell of burning rubber. Since I was already

choking on the acidic taste of remorse, the smell instantly made me gag. I barely made it to trash receptacle beside the elevators before I lost my dinner. After days of feeling queasy, the stress had finally taken its toll. Apparently the stress of being turned into a brood mare was enough to finally tip me over the edge. If the men in my life had my way, I’d likely be pregnant by the end of the year. It made me heave even more violently into the trashcan. Pregnant. I couldn’t imagine. Me. With a baby. How ridiculous. I couldn’t even imagine being pregnant. Months on end of having one’s body hijacked, to be stretched out and run through the wringer, with stretch marks, backaches, and hemorrhoids; vomiting for months on end… Slowly I stood upright, staring down at the trashcan. Though I had vomited twice, I still felt queasy. I’d been stressed before, but it had never made me physically sick before. And it was pretty clear that I was physically sick. As I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, I wondered suddenly if our argument was a moot point. What if I was already pregnant with Masters Baby #1 and I didn’t even know it?

That was how it worked, wasn’t it? Thirty days, that was all it took. Just one little oopsie and everything could change–and I wouldn’t even know it until it was too late. The thought dogged me all the way upstairs to our apartment. Our apartment, I thought with a sneer. What a load of crap. It was his apartment and I was just bunking there. It had never been our apartment. It had been his apartment, his bachelor pad: his lair. Was it possible that we conceived a baby in the same bed where he had fucked countless women before me? The thought sent me running to the bathroom the minute I stepped inside the door. As I sprawled on the pristine tile next to a sparkling white commode, leaning against it, my body–and my mind–in turmoil, I began to do the math in my head. I had begun sleeping with Devlin a month before, and I had yet to get my period, even though I had started a new pack of pills. It wasn’t the first time in the year I had been taking them that I’d been late, starting a period after I began a new pack. I had just started the second week of active pills that Sunday, so that meant I was nearly twenty days late. How the fuck did this happen without me noticing? Oh right. My life had been tossed like a salad from the moment I met Devlin Masters. Lucy’s good-natured ribbing about my whirlwind romance

lingered in my ear. Maybe it was time to cue the llama. I dragged myself to the bed, where I wilted just like a used rag. I felt hot and miserable and my tummy let me know with every gurgle how displeased it was. I could probably call Devlin, tell him what was going on, and he’d run back to the house to take care of me. But I wasn’t sure that I wanted to say anything yet. I mean, I really didn’t even know anything yet. And what would I say if I did know, either way? I wasn’t ready for kids, and I was pretty sure I’d never want four. I had too many things I wanted to do for myself first. This clothing line with Darcy was only the tip of the iceberg. I wanted to take over the world, run a business, travel and enjoy my life. I could never see myself waddling around with four tiny ducklings chasing after me. I didn’t know how to relate to babies, or kids in general. I’d never been around many, and what few I had been around (Aubrey, for instance,) had a legion of nannies to manage them. Hell, I’d never even babysat as a kid. I gently placed my hand on my stomach. Was there a baby in there now? It was unthinkable. I was only twenty-three, practically a kid myself. I still had so much left to do. “You could take care of it,” the angel on my shoulder whispered, always the practical voice of reason. For once in the

past month I agreed with her. This could only change my life if I let it. I was a woman of the twenty-first century. I got to plan my family and manage my reproductive choices for myself. “But what about Devlin?” the annoying devil on my shoulder asked. This wouldn’t be just any baby. That would be Devlin Masters’ baby, a baby he so clearly wanted. An accident like this would fit neatly into his five-year plan. I shook my head, which only made me even dizzier. This was all absolutely absurd. I was on birth control. There was no way I was pregnant. Okay, fine. Maybe there was, like, less than a one-percent chance I might be pregnant. Birth control wasn’t foolproof. Certain things affected its effectiveness, like skipping a pill or simply not taking the pill at the same time every single day. I hadn’t technically missed a day, but I definitely had a more haphazard schedule in Vegas, where each and every one of my routines were scrubbed in lieu of having sex at any opportunity with my sexy escort. I could probably count how many times we’d done the dirty deed over how many times I actually took my pill on time, sometimes taking the pill at night rather than in the morning. Exactly how many hours constituted a missed dose? That thought sent me running back to the toilet. I was miserable by the time dawn peeked through the

window the next morning, where I roused to discover that Devlin had not made it home yet. I checked my phone but there were no messages. He had made absolutely zero contact. It all made me feel even worse as I dragged myself from the bed to get ready for work. Whether it was from nerves or other things, I was miserable as I forced myself through my morning routine. I ached all over; I was both dizzy and queasy, so much so that I couldn’t even swig any juice. Worse, I had been zapped of all energy. I felt as though I was trudging through mud just to walk across the room. Is this what I had to look forward to for the next nine months? I shook my head. I still wasn’t sure if I was– … if there was anything wrong with me. I still couldn’t say the word, even internally. It was all too much. Too many changes, too quickly. I was newly married to man I barely knew. I was virtually displaced from the only home I’d ever really known. Now… a baby? I shook my head again. Nope. Couldn’t do it. Couldn’t even think about it. And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about it either, particularly when I pulled my package of birth control pills out of the drawer in the bathroom. I stared at the little plastic square that still contained

half of the pills that remained for the rest of June and into July. I didn’t know what kind of damage these pills could do if I was somehow already pregnant, but suddenly it was all I could think about. I took a deep breath before I closed the package and stuffed it back in the drawer without withdrawing any pills. I’d have to talk to a doctor, clearly. I muscled through the rest of my morning ritual and headed to work. Devlin wasn’t in his office when I arrived. From his empty parking space, I deduced that he wasn’t at the store at all. I decided not to think about that either. Since it was month’s end, and we were taking off Friday for Lucy’s wedding, I had a lot to get done. But even with this workload, I couldn’t stop thinking about Devlin and the itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, miniscule, barest, vaguest, less-than-one-percent-iest chance that I might, indeed, be carrying his child. Every time I glanced at my silent phone, or paused over my waste basket just in case I couldn’t keep water down, I was reminded, yet again, about my predicament. Oliver didn’t make things any better when he appeared at my office around noon, popping his head in to say, as if absolutely nothing had ever changed, “Want to grab some Thai food for lunch?”

I instantly grimaced. The thought of spicy food made my stomach instantly rebel. “No, thanks.” He smiled even more jovially as he closed the door behind him and walked to my desk. “Come on. Your hubby’s out of town. Why eat alone if you don’t have to?” My eyes shot to him. “What did you say?” He sat on the corner of my desk. “I said, ‘why eat alone–” “I heard that,” I snapped. Then, even though it physically pained me to do so, “Devlin’s out of town?” Oliver chuckled. “Yeah. He’s consulting with some designer in Las Vegas. You didn’t know?” I looked back at my computer. Vegas meant Darcy, which only meant one thing. Devlin had gotten so angry with me he’d gone to visit his sister, and since she was, in fact, the designer he always wanted to pitch to Father, he could conveniently dismiss his absence as business. “I’m too busy for lunch, Oliver. You’ll have to find someone else to eat with today.” Though my comment was dismissive, he didn’t budge an inch. “You okay, CC?” he asked softly. “You look like hell.” “Thank you so much,” I replied without looking at him. “Seriously. You need to eat or something. You look absolutely pallid.” Or something. “I’m fine,” I insisted, though I could feel my

chin tremble as I said it. That was new, too. And I hated it. I hated absolutely all of it. I especially hated that my new husband was nearly three hundred miles away, forcing me to experience all these horrible things alone. Maybe I’ll just get my tubes tied, I thought to myself. Whether I was… whether there was something wrong with me or not, I’d just get myself fixed. Spayed, I thought with a smirk. Like a pound puppy. “Don’t be ridiculous,” the angel on my shoulder said. “You’re a show dog. Bred to breed.” I waited until after Oliver left to call Devlin. He surprised me by picking up on the second ring. “Hello, Coralie.” Just the way he said my name made my whole body tremble. Despite it all, I missed him and I wanted him. I loved him. “Oliver tells me you went to Vegas,” I said softly. He chuckled humorlessly. “I’ll just bet. How long did it take him to pounce on that little opportunity?” “He invited me to lunch. I declined,” I added, just so he’d know. He said nothing for a long moment, so I kept talking. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to Vegas, Dev?” “Spur of the moment decision,” he answered. “I didn’t

know myself until I hit the Interstate.” “But why leave at all? I don’t understand.” He sighed. “I told you. We need some time to think.” “So you just run away to Las Vegas? How does that fix anything, Devlin?” Again, he said nothing. “We don’t need to think. We need to talk. We’re in this marriage together. You don’t get to keep making these decisions on your own. As your wife, I want to be your partner, not your subordinate.” “And yet you can’t seem to trust me,” he pointed out. “I thought you understood the kind of man I was, but I’ve done nothing but jump through your hoops since we got back to Los Angeles.” “Ditto,” I snapped. “I’m the one who has given up my home to move into your place. I virtually gave up my job to you, when you were the one to take over expanding our sizes. And now you want me to give up my body to have a horde of children we never even discussed before? It’s the only thing I have left, Dev.” “You have me,” he said softly. “I thought we could handle anything. Apparently you don’t agree.” “Don’t twist my words around, Devlin,” I said. “It’s more than that and you know it. You expect me to just follow along silently, blindly trusting you with every decision, and if I don’t, you treat it like it’s some deal-breaker.”

“It is a deal-breaker, Coralie.” A vice closed around my heart. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying that a marriage without trust is dead, and you can’t bring yourself to trust me. Where does that leave us?” “How is my not wanting to turn my vagina into a clown car some demonstration of my not trusting you?” He sighed, as if put upon to spell it out for me. “What I say to your father has more to do with his expectations than mine, Coralie. Don’t you know that by now?” “So you’re playing him,” I said. “Yes,” he admitted, openly with no remorse. It only confused me further. “So you don’t want four kids?” “Until I met you I never even knew I wanted to get married, much less have any kids at all,” he admitted at last. “And we’ve got plenty of time to figure all that out. But whether we have twenty kids or none at all, the most important part was that we would be together. I needed you to trust that we would be okay either way.” “Of course I trust that,” I said. “Do you?” he challenged softly. “Seems to me that you spend an awful lot of time looking behind at what you’ve lost, instead of forward to what you might gain. You see each and every

step forward as a threat, simply because you don’t have control over it. As long as you’re holding onto you, Coralie, you’ll never truly be able to believe in and fight for us.” I opened my mouth. Here was where I told him that I was late for my period, that I might be pregnant, that we might be having a baby whether we were ready for it or not. But my throat closed and no words escaped at all. Now that I knew he had simply talked about having kids quickly for my father’s sake, I no longer knew if my possible oopsie would be greeted with excitement, like it was good news. It was entirely possible he’d be just as freaked out as I was. “I’m coming back on Friday,” he continued. “I’m bringing Darcy to meet your father. She has several designs ready, and I’ve already lined up some models.” I nodded, though I so didn’t care by that point. My lifelong goal to get my kinds of clothes into Cabot’s came a distant second to the only question that really mattered. “And what about us, Dev?” He answered softly but firmly. “That’s really up to you, isn’t it? You’re absolutely right. You are my wife, not my subordinate. By that same respect I am your husband, not your enemy. You can’t keep treating me like one.” Before I could argue

the point, he pressed on. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to justify your existence, Coralie, to be so dirt poor you have to play someone else’s game just to survive. I’ve spent my whole life playing that game, trying to prove to the world that I fucking matter, especially to people like you and your father and Oliver,” he added hatefully. “Frankly I’m tired of fighting to join your club. I’m not wasting another ounce of energy proving anything to anyone, especially my bride, who should know me better than anybody.” “Then why don’t I?” I asked. “You know,” he mused, “I keep asking myself that same question. Goodbye, Coralie.” The call ended before I could ask how final that goodbye actually was.

CHAPTER NINE The rest of that Wednesday afternoon truly did feel like crawling over a hump. I felt even more miserable after the call ended. Never one to miss an opportunity, Oliver made it a point to come to my office almost every twenty minutes for this reason or that. It all wore even harder on me. By four o’clock I was done in by all the stress and all the worry. “Let me drive you home,” Oliver offered and I shook my head while I gathered my things. I shook my head. “I’m fine.” I made it exactly three steps from my desk before I swooned. I would have collapsed had Oliver not sprung across the room to catch me. “You are not fine,” he said as he helped me into a chair. “Let me call the doctor.” “No!” His eyes met mine, surprised by the sharpness of my answer. I took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s just the flu. I’m sure I’ll be okay. I just need to go home and get some rest.” Oliver nodded. “Fine. But I’m driving you.” “Oliver…¸” I started, but he wrapped a strong arm around me to help me to my feet. “I wasn’t asking permission, CC. You can barely walk

across the room, there’s no way you can drive. And I’m not going to answer to your father or your husband if you bang up your car, or worse.” Finally I nodded. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. If I couldn’t walk across the room, it was probably not a good idea to operate a 4000-lb car. So I allowed Oliver to walk me from my office, past a very confused Simon, down the hall and out to the parking garage. I slid into his comfortable car and gave him directions to my new home. I really wanted to go home to Father’s estate, Petit Paradis in particular. Nothing depressed me more than staying in that luxury high-rise apartment without Devlin. I could barely tolerate it when he was there. But I knew going home to Father would only raise a lot of questions I didn’t want to answer. Maybe if Oliver had to drop me off at the home I now shared with my husband, he’d take a bit more mercy on me. As it turned out, he had to walk me up to that apartment anyway. After going most of the day without eating anything, I was much too shaky to walk on my own. He kept an arm around me to assist me upstairs, and shadowed me inside so that he could help me to the couch. “Nice place,” he said with the appropriate amount of snark. “Everything I would have pictured for a man like Devlin.”

“Oliver, don’t start,” I warned as I sank against the soft leather cushion of the sofa. “You need to eat, CC,” he admonished as he stared down at me. “You’re white as a ghost. You’re warm, too. Likely running a fever.” I nodded. “Flu,” I dismissed again. It couldn’t be anything else. He swung my legs up onto the sofa and fluffed a pillow for my back. “Let me see what you have here. Maybe I can make something.” I nodded again, too worn out to care. I even dozed while he fiddled around in the kitchen, whipping up some chicken noodle soup from scratch. I was impressed as he set the steaming bowl on the table in front of me. “When did you learn how to cook?” He shrugged. “I’ve been taking classes. Had a lot of free time on my hands in the last few weeks.” “Oliver.” “Just eat,” he said as he held the bowl closer. I gingerly took a sip. It was very mildly spiced, which helped me choke it down, but my stomach still rumbled in protest. “Your kitchen looks like a health food store.” “Devlin likes to eat healthy,” I dismissed with a shrug.

“Well, it’s certainly working. You look like you’ve lost ten pounds.” “Shut up,” I said. “I do not.” “Haven’t you looked at yourself lately?” he asked. “Marriage agrees with you.” I thought about Devlin’s vigorous workout regimen and our healthy diet. I guess he really did know what he was doing. “You shouldn’t have any problem fitting into that maid of honor gown now,” Oliver continued. “You might even wear the fourteen.” Yay, me. The soup didn’t settle well on my stomach, so I ended up bolting off the couch and towards the bedroom. Oliver found me crumpled beside the toilet minutes later. “Let me call the doctor, CC,” he said softly as he squatted down to face me. I shook my head. “It’s nothing serious, just the flu. I just need rest.” He sighed and straightened to get me a wet washcloth, before helping me the few feet I could make it towards the bed. He pulled down the covers for me and I snuggled into my side of the large, empty bed. Oliver mercifully made no mention of it as he fluffed my pillows yet again to make me comfortable. “I don’t feel

right leaving you,” he said. “I don’t feel right with you staying,” I mumbled as I covered my eyes with one hand. “Fair enough,” he conceded softly. “But do me a favor, okay? If you need me to come back, you’ll call me.” Our eyes met. We had started out as friends a long time ago. Maybe we could be friends again. I nodded. He bent down to kiss my forehead, before cupping it with his palm to test my temperature. “Let me get you something for your fever,” he said. When he brought me the pills, however, I found myself hesitant to take one. More and more it looked like I really was that word I didn’t want to say. That meant I was carrying Devlin’s baby, and that was precious cargo indeed. Could I take these pills? Would it be okay? Why did I even care? If the entire duration of this ordeal proved to be this bad, why would I put myself through it at all? The question chased me all the way into my dreams, where I was right in the throes of labor, screaming in agony and pain, with Devlin right beside me, encouraging me with words of love as he held me tight against his body. “You can do this, Coralie,” my dream Devlin said. “You can do anything.” I nodded and with another blinding wave of pain, I

screamed loudly as I pushed. I woke up before I could see what I had, whether it was a girl, a boy, or an alien from Mars. Somehow that was more disturbing than the dream itself. I lay awake for long minutes afterwards, feeling emptier and more alone than I had ever felt in my life, even after my mother died. I curled into a ball, nauseated and miserable, this tiny little lump on Devlin’s massive bed. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t move one aching muscle to fetch myself any food. Thankfully Oliver had left me with crackers and a bottle of water beside my bed, so I reached for my meager sustenance with one shaking hand. I noticed that Oliver also left my phone beside my bed. I checked it, but no one had called. I sighed, again feeling all alone. But I supposed I wasn’t really alone, was I? I’d never be alone again. More and more I was convinced that I was, in fact, pregnant. I had never been this late before. Devlin and I had had more sex in one month than I had ever had. Millions and millions and millions of little soldiers had gone looking for an egg. Thanks to a scant percent failure rate of birth control, they very likely could have found one. And I never would have known. I pulled up a symptom checker on my phone to tick off all the symptoms. Sore breasts, check. Nausea and vomiting, check

and check. Exhaustion and moodiness, check-ety check check. Again I put my hand on my tummy, thinking about my dream. “You can do this, Coralie,” dream Devlin had said. “You can do anything.” Could I do this? Did I even want to? I opened up the Cabot’s website, this time to the baby section. I’d never really looked at it before. There had never been a need. As I started to scroll through the clothes and the nursery décor, I couldn’t help but wonder exactly how my dream was supposed to end. Had I ended up with a daughter? I had given birth to Devlin’s son? Had I had one of both, like he wanted? Who had the baby looked like? Me? Devlin? Father or Mother? Darcy or Aileen? A unique mix of all the above? I scrolled through the different nursery accessories and the cribs, trying to picture in my head what the nursery would look like. What color would I make it? Blue for a boy? Pink for a girl? Yellow and green, just in case we want to be surprised? Maybe I’d buck convention altogether and just make it purple, treating our child like royalty right from birth. “Why not?” the devil on my shoulder whispered. “We have a castle.” I closed my eyes and imagined which room I’d want to

make a nursery in Chateau du Cabot. It would have to be one of the bedrooms close to ours, of course, at least at first. I could picture a little girl with jet black pigtails running through the meadow full of lavender, just like I used to do. I could imagine Devlin carrying a boy with black hair and green eyes on his shoulders as they followed behind. This was what my life could look like in five years. What the fuck was wrong with me? This had never been my dream. It certainly wasn’t my plan. Even when I was a kid, I abandoned my baby dolls by the age of six, when Lucy introduced me to the world of glamorous fashion dolls we could dress up in fabulous clothes and send on equally fabulous dates with our guy dolls. I was clearly tired. I was obviously running some sort of fever. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand before snuggling down into the covers to get the rest I so obviously needed. I tried not to think about my baby dream, and yet I kind of hoped I’d return to it. Maybe if I could just see the baby–our baby–I could stop obsessing about it. Instead I dropped off in a deep sleep where I didn’t dream about anything. I slept like a rock until seven o’clock the next morning. Before I could drag my butt out of bed to get ready to go to work, I spotted the text from Oliver. “Don’t even think about

coming to work, CC. If you’re running a fever, you’re contagious. Stay home and get your rest so you can be healthy for the wedding tomorrow.” I wanted to power through it simply because I had begun to suspect it wasn’t the flu at all, and I couldn’t take off every day for the next nine months. But I was too tired to argue. I dropped off yet again and slept hard till well after ten o’clock in the morning to a sweat-soaked pillow. I finally crawled out of bed because I couldn’t stand to stay in that big lonely bed another minute. I managed to make it to the bathroom without vomiting, which I figured had more to do with the fact I hadn’t really eaten anything since the night before, and none of that had stayed down. I was shaky and weak by the time I reached the kitchen, so I grabbed a banana for some quick energy. I finally collapsed on the sofa, where I curled into a miserable little ball. Exactly how long was I going to have to feel like this? I referred to a pregnancy due date calculator, which cheerfully calculated that, based on the first day of my last menstrual period, my baby was due on February 14th. A Valentine’s Day baby. This meant that I probably ovulated any time after May 24th, our first Sunday in Las Vegas.

That Monday was when he saved me from the drunk guy at the slots. “No one gets to fuck you but me,” he had told me as he staked his claim for himself. The next day we ditched the condoms, even though he had confessed that he had slept with another woman. Was our baby created that very same day? Of course it was, I thought to myself. There was no other way it could be. And now I was pregnant. Pregnant. Not just a wife… I was now a mommy-to-be. I was still sobbing softly to myself when Oliver called. I didn’t answer him the first time, so he called me twice more. Finally I sucked it all up, dried my tears and caught my breath as much as I could, and answered the phone. “How are you feeling?” he asked, and I could tell he was concerned. Despite it all, I supposed he really did care about me. “Better,” I said. Physically that was true. Emotionally? My condition was critical. “I just wanted you to know that I ordered you some lunch. It should be there in a half-hour.” “You didn’t have to do that,” I said. “I know,” he replied. “I just feel bad thinking about you all alone in that big apartment. When is Devlin coming home?”

I closed my eyes. It was a moment I both looked forward to and dreaded. What would he do or say when he realized that he was about to become a father? Would he be happy? Would he be scared? Would he be able to talk me down from the ledge? Or would I have to rescue him? “Tomorrow,” I finally answered. “I’d feel better if you went back home to stay with your dad.” I shook my head, though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll be okay. I just needed to rest.” Lots of rest. Like nine months’ worth. “Okay,” he conceded ever so begrudgingly. “But call me if you need me, okay?” “Okay,” I agreed softly. “Promise?” “I promise.” It was a lie. I had no intention of calling anyone. I just wanted to be alone to sort everything out in my head. I had some big decisions to make, the first being if I really wanted to have a baby. I never thought I did before. I mean, of course I thought it would eventually part of the plan, but I thought it was a bridge I crossed well after I took over as CEO of Cabot’s, where I had done everything with the store that I had always wanted to do. Cabot’s was my real baby, and always had been. Up until my impromptu visit to Las Vegas, I assumed that

Oliver would be my husband, and neither of us was a romantic, dreaming about a future together that included a white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a dog. We weren’t even in love. It was an understanding. More like a merger, one we’d enter years later when we were older and more settled, and we had conquered the world. Now all I could think of was my stupid dream, when I was swollen with child, the man I loved at my side, tears in his eyes as he told me how much he loved me, how much he loved us, as he encouraged me to bring our child into the world–a child that our love created. It was hard to get past that. Everything else paled in comparison, even for a pragmatic like me. Suddenly there was no other option. Nothing else mattered. Our love had created a person. That wasn’t magical. That was fucking miraculous. The first moment that we absolutely trusted each other and let our guards down, the universe had sparked new life into existence. How on earth could I choose anything but that? We were wealthy. We were young, healthy and in love. And now we were going to have a baby, a baby that would bond us together forever. I almost couldn’t wait to tell him about all these new possibilities, but I decided that I would. This wasn’t an over-thephone conversation. No, I thought with a smile. I knew just what to do.

After I ate the soup and bread that Oliver had delivered for me, I felt a little better. I finally left the apartment around two o’clock in the afternoon, after I trusted my feet were steady enough to carry me. I didn’t have to go very far, but I didn’t want to collapse in the middle of the street either. I headed downstairs to the little drug store at the end of the block, where I purchased a home pregnancy test, a gift box and some pink and blue ribbon. I actually wore a smile as I walked back into our building. That smile quickly dissipated when I got into the elevator. Simone, the athletic goddess from our apartment gym, hollered at me to hold the elevator as she sprinted across the lobby. She spared me a smile just as the doors shut behind us. “Thanks,” she said. “If I don’t get out of these heels soon, I’m going to have to saw my feet off at the ankles.” She proudly showed off her stilettos, which added six more inches to her already impressive height. I simply nodded, feeling even frumpier standing next to her considering I wore a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. “You look familiar. Have we met?” What a perfect question, I thought. I shook my head as I held up my hand. “Coralie Masters.” The name jogged her memory, though not in the way I would have hoped. “Right. You were with Devlin. It’s so lovely to

meet you finally. My name’s Simone. I’m a friend of your brother’s.” I gaped at her, speechless. She thought I was Darcy, which meant that even though he had shared such personal with her that he had a sister, he hadn’t quite seen fit to tell her that he had a wife. And of course, that wasn’t what she’d see when she met someone like me. Instead she went on, completely oblivious. “He’s worked magic with me in the last six months I’ve lived here. I’m down to twelve percent body fat,” she beamed with pride. It only made me feel frumpier. “He does work miracles,” was all I could say. “Totally. I trust no one more,” she added with a grin. It chastised me at once. She could trust my husband, and yet I had been unable to. No wonder he was so mad. “I could probably squeeze something in tonight or tomorrow if he’s free.” I shook my head. “He’s out of town.” She just chuckled. “Ah, yes. He’s always out of town, isn’t he? That man has a jam-packed schedule. Pinning him down for anything is next to impossible.” I unconsciously thumbed my wedding rings as I thought about the bun in my oven. “Yeah,” I conceded quietly. “Impossible.”

We stopped at floor seven, which was apparently her floor. “So nice to meet you at last,” she said again. “We should get together some time.” “Absolutely,” I lied through my teeth. “Get my phone number from Devvy,” she grinned before she sashayed through the door and down the hallway to her apartment. There was a lot less spring in my step as I exited the elevator on the fifteenth floor. The minute the door shut behind me, however, I had no time for a pity party. I had a test to take. Seeing as how I was nearly three weeks late, I expected to see a positive result. This confirmation would change my life in the three little minutes it took to take the test. In that time, I perused the nursery section of Cabot’s and thought about which names I might like for both a boy and a girl. Because that was all that was left now, wasn’t it? That, and telling my husband. How he took it was anyone’s guess, but I supposed there was no better way to show how much I trusted him than having his baby. I spent the last minute remaining on the test preparing the gift box. I would put it under the pillow and he could find it tomorrow night, when we both got home from the wedding. I was so prepared to see that plus sign that I was stunned

silent when the test showed a negative result instead. I blinked at it for a long minute, trying to comprehend what it meant. Clearly the result was wrong. I read about tests coming up negative, though I couldn’t imagine that I’d still get a negative result this many days after a missed period. I let the test set for fifteen more minutes just to be sure it had taken long enough. That plus sign never came. I was on the phone within minutes, calling my personal doctor. I begged for them to fit me in, and they gave me a fourthirty appointment. That afternoon time dragged slower than it had ever dragged. I couldn’t even stand to stay in the apartment. I got to the doctor’s office nearly a half-hour early. Finally I was called back to the cheery examination room. “So what’s the problem?” the nurse asked as she took notes. I cleared my throat. “I, um, am about three weeks late for my period. I started having symptoms a few days ago, nausea and fatigue, but a home pregnancy test came up negative.” She nodded. “Let’s start with a urine sample, then.” The doctor joined me about ten minutes after I took the test. “How are you feeling, CC?” “Not too hot,” I admitted. “Feeling sick, sleepy and achy. Sore breasts, nausea, dizziness.” He checked the vitals that the nurse had jotted down. He

laid me down on the table, pressing onto my tummy, which nearly made my stomach rebel yet again. “We’re going to go ahead and draw some blood,” he said before he left the room again. He didn’t return until the second round of tests was done. He pulled me up into a sitting position. “Well, you’re not pregnant,” he said. “Looks like you just had a nasty bout of the flu. You’re still running a slight fever, and we’ll take care of that. Get some sleep and you should be as good as new in a few days.” My mouth dropped open. “But I’m three weeks late. I’ve never been late like this.” “It’s not uncommon to see menstrual irregularities from time to time. Typically you ovulate every single month but different things can affect ovulation and fertility. With birth control, we force an anovulatory cycle, but many things can affect a normal reproductive cycle, like stress, a change in eating habits or a strenuous exercise routine.” I gulped hard. He had just perfectly described practically the entire month of June for me. “So I’m not pregnant? You’re sure?” He smiled as he patted me on the shoulder. “We took a urine test and a blood test, and I gave you a thorough physical exam. So rest assured. You’re not pregnant.” He went on about menstrual irregularities, and changing my birth control prescription,

and testing again in a few weeks if I hadn’t gotten my period. But I stopped listening after he said I wasn’t pregnant. For something I had hoped to hear just the day before, the news had me surprisingly down in the dumps when I returned to our apartment. I never thought I’d want a baby, particularly under these circumstances. But as I had researched due dates and windowshopped for nursery items, I had begun subtly making room in my head for the idea of a baby. That idea popped like a balloon when I thought about Valentine’s Day coming and going without my holding a baby in my arms. I went to the bathroom, where the gift box waited for a positive pregnancy test so I could share the happy news with my husband. I gathered it all and dumped it in the bottom of the trash so I wouldn’t have to look at it. I escaped to the living room to mindlessly watch TV as I counted the hours for Devlin to return. It was the only thing I had to look forward to now, particularly now that my newly rewired brain had to erase all the pictures it had subconsciously planted there when I thought about the next nine months. I went from giving my husband the best Valentine’s Day ever to simply celebrating yet another day. Inexplicably the whole thing depressed me. I was in no mood to see Oliver when he showed up at about five o’clock,

carrying a paper bag full of food. “What’s this?” “I knew you wouldn’t eat,” he said with a smile as he walked through the door, uninvited. “We need you healthy tomorrow.” I thought about Lucy’s wedding, where both Oliver and I had roles to play. He was an usher, and I, of course, was maid of honor. “I’ll be fine,” I said woodenly as I followed. “I went to the doctor. He confirmed it was just the flu.” “That’s great news,” he grinned as he unpacked the contents of the bag at the dining room table. I nodded, though the rocks at the pit of my stomach suggested I might be lying. “You were right. I just needed rest.” I hoped he would take the hint and leave. Instead, he disappeared into the kitchen for a couple of plates. “Told you so,” he said as he reemerged. He plated the sandwiches and the salad, which he brought to the coffee table in the living room. “Eating in the living room? You’re certainly living on the edge,” I said with a grin. Normally he was strictly a chair and table kind of guy. He chuckled as he sat on the sofa. “I figured it would be more comfortable for you,” he said, demonstrating–perhaps for the

first time ever–that he could put my needs over his love of routine and structure. “I appreciate it,” I said as I sat next to him. His blue eyes swept over my face. “You’re looking a hundred times better today.” I gulped hard. Of course I looked better today. I had only had the flu. It wasn’t like I was locked in for the ride for nine months. Instead my rollercoaster got exactly ten feet and I had to get right back off of it again. I blamed the stress that had likely caused my missed period on how disappointed I was about everything. I was simply on hormonal overload and it had made my whole body go haywire. Oliver sensed my mood. “You okay, CC?” I nodded, though I couldn’t look at him. “Just worn out.” He nodded. “You’ve gone through a lot of changes lately.” I practically chortled. “Yeah. You could say that.” His voice was soft. “Are you happy, CC?” It took me a bit to answer the question. My first knee-jerk reaction was no, mostly because of the news I got at the doctor’s office. But I could never share anything like that with him. “Of course,” I lied. “It doesn’t bother you that your husband is out of town, leaving you all alone in this big apartment while you’re sick?”

I shook my head. “Business is business.” He nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. He’s got a pretty important job these days.” His eyes met mine. “Some might even say he’s got your job these days.” I hid myself behind my dinner. “He’s my husband,” was all I could say. “His victories are my victories, and vice versa.” “Of course,” Oliver said before he dove into his own meal. “Still,” he said in between bites. “It’s gotta hurt that he managed to get your father to agree to something you never could.” I slid him a cool glance. “Was that the objective?” “You really think your father is that petty, CC?” I put the plate on the coffee table. “I really don’t know what to think, Oliver. I show up with a new husband and he hates us. Days later they’re best buds. You tell me.” Oliver shrugged before he leaned back on the sofa. “Your dad was really impressed by what he found out about Devlin. A lot of people claim he did a lot of good. Important people. People that your father knows personally, so their opinion carries a lot of weight.” I leaned back on the sofa myself. “Funny that his own daughter wasn’t one of those people.” “Don’t be like that,” he admonished at once. “Your father was worried about you. You show up after a week in Vegas with a

guy like that on your arm, he was just understandably cautious because he wanted to protect you.” “I’m a grown woman,” I snapped as I rose to my feet. “I can take care of myself.” “How can we be sure of that when you marry someone you barely know?” “I knew him in college. Remember?” “And yet you never talked about him. You never even mentioned his name before now. Which leads me to believe that you didn’t know him very well, or you didn’t know him at all.” My gaze swung around to meet his. “You think I’m lying?” He stood to face me. “You tell me.” I said nothing. “You can, you know. You can tell me anything. And if you ever need it, I’ll help you however I can. I do care about you, CC. Maybe I didn’t know how to show it, but I always did.” I stared at him, praying he wouldn’t cross the few feet between us. I couldn’t handle more groping. Not now. “You know, I’m really tired still. I should probably get some sleep so I can be ready for the wedding tomorrow.” There was a slight pause before he nodded. “Sure. I’ll go.” I walked him to the door. He turned to face me before he crossed the threshold. “I’m glad you feel better.” “Thanks,” I said as I braced the door between us. “And

thanks for all your help.” He nodded. There was another pause before he bent down to kiss my cheek. Without another word he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall. I went back into my apartment, to sleep alone in my big, empty bed, and dream about babies whose faces I couldn’t see.

CHAPTER TEN The limo came around two o’clock the next day to pick me up for Lucy’s grand wedding. I managed to get a pass on the “official” rehearsal dinner and bachelorette party the night before, mostly because Oliver had told Sylvia about my having the flu. She wasn’t going to risk an outbreak by exposing everyone to me while I was still possibly contagious, at least before the day of the big event anyway. So I got permission to skip it all. And I used it, since I still felt like utter crap because of the flu. Well, at least that was why I told everyone I was so miserable. The truth of how I was feeling was a little bit harder to explain, particularly to my bestie Lucy, who certainly didn’t need my drama piled on top of what she was already going through with her mother’s lavish, overblown wedding. I knew if I told her that I was actually bummed out about not being pregnant, it would rock her down to her core. We were a lot alike in that way. We were much too young to tie ourselves down with that kind responsibility. It was something we knew we’d have to do someday, but it wasn’t anything we daydreamed about. We could still pick up and go to Las Vegas on a whim, or Paris, or Hawaii or Timbuktu. We didn’t have to worry about nannies and

schools¸ runny noses or dirty diapers. We could drink or party or simply sleep in without a major juggling act. We could make love to our husbands in every room in the house any time of the day. Kids changed all that. And I didn’t think I could look anyone in the eye and admit that after a day solid of thinking how much and how drastically my life might change, I wasn’t as scared shitless as I should have been– or as I would have been before I married Devlin Masters. In fact, I had started to get a little excited about it. It was hard not to. I had been hard-wired as a girl with the romanticized idea of babies. Creating a brand new person simply by loving someone? The idea was downright mystical. Yes, I was young, but it wasn’t as though security had ever been a problem. Yes, Devlin and I were still getting to know each other… but this was the man I loved, more than I had ever loved anyone. We were married. We were locked in for life. I’d have his babies eventually, up to four if he got his way. I somehow thought the worst thing I could have seen was a plus sign on that little plastic stick… until I saw it was minus sign instead. Minus sign, I thought. The symbol of subtraction. It was fitting. That test took something away from me, something I didn’t even know I wanted. It wasn’t the first time in a month that I had to

wonder what the hell was wrong with me. Devlin Masters flipped all sorts of switches in me. I hardly recognized myself anymore. I blamed my fever for my delirious dreams. I blamed my hormonal imbalance for my emotional reaction. But no matter what logical foundation I might have for entertaining these strange, scary new thoughts, every time I thought about the baby I wasn’t going to have on Valentine’s Day, my arms ached. It was as if something was now missing. Once again I tried to shake it all free. I took a deep breath to steady myself, to prepare for my task ahead. I was about to enter the Lyons' den. I was one of the first to arrive at the 20,000-square foot estate in Bel Air. It was a madhouse, with dozens of people running around, trying to finalize every last detail. Sylvia Lyon was cool as a cucumber as she herded the peons with firmness, confidence and grace. She really didn’t show a crack in her veneer until she spotted me walk into the grand foyer at the base of the spiral staircase. “CC! Thank goodness you’re here.” I was surprised to hear this after my being literally banned from all the events the night before. But I supposed she wasn’t that worried about my infecting everyone since no symptoms would likely show up until after the spectacle wedding was long over. “You need to get upstairs. Lucy won’t even come out of her room.”

“What now?” I asked and Sylvia just shook her head. “I think she’s got the same bug you did. She’s been vomiting for days straight.” I nodded before I sprinted up the stairs towards my bestie’s room, the one she’d lived in since we were both kids. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I eased into the room, but it was empty, with the designer wedding dress her mother had picked for her laying out on the bed. “Lucy?” I heard horrible wretching sounds coming from the adjoining bathroom, so I followed the noise until I found Lucy, still in her pajamas, curled around the toilet, white as a sheet. I grabbed a washrag and dampened it before I joined her on the floor. “You look miserable,” I told her as I bathed her face. Her eyes met mine. “I look pregnant.” My eyes widened as I stared at her. “What?” She nodded before she dragged herself towards the counter, where she pulled open a drawer and withdrew a plastic pregnancy test stick. There, in big bold lines, was the now-coveted plus sign. “What? When?” She grinned. “Vegas.” “You’re not mad?” She shook her head. “No. We decided that we wouldn’t

use birth control on our wedding night, just to see what happens. I can’t use that hormonal stuff you use,” she reminded me and I nodded. “And, I don’t know. It just felt right to be together, to trust each other, to trust the future.” She moaned as she slumped against the toilet. “It doesn’t feel right anymore.” Immediately I wrapped an arm around her. “What are you going to do?” “What do you mean? I’m going to have it.” “But… but I didn’t think you were ready.” She chuckled. “Neither did I. But I don’t know. Vegas was so perfect. It just seemed… right. I mean, I knew our chances were small either way. I figured if it was what the universe wanted, it would send me a sign.” I thought about her pregnancy test. “Yeah. A plus sign.” She smiled wistfully as she leaned against me. “It sounds so stupid but I didn’t know how much I wanted to see it until I did.” She grabbed my hands in hers. “Ceece! I’m going to have a baby!” I hugged her tight, but a part of me was even more depressed than before. Had I not been faked out by my own reproductive cycle, I could have shared my news of upcoming motherhood with her. We would be pregnant at the exact same time, and raise our children to be best friends like we were, kind of like we had always planned when we were kids ourselves.

It made my negative pregnancy tests even more disappointing. It didn’t help matters when she said, “I thought for sure you’d beat me to the punch, especially with how fast things have been moving between you and Devlin.” I shrugged. “I guess we have some catching up to do.” “Maybe we can coordinate for Baby Number Two.” My mouth dropped open. Since when did she even think about Baby Number One? “What’s happened to you, Lucy?” “I don’t know,” she mused thoughtfully. “It just doesn’t scare me like it used to. I don’t know. Like I was making it so much harder than it had to be.” She leaned in close. “I’m due February 17th, but I kind of hope I can deliver on Valentine’s Day. Can you imagine?” I nodded. I could imagine. “Have you told Gus?” She smiled. “There was nothing to tell. He’s been in on it from the start. He was the one who watched the calendar and bought the over-the-counter test the second he thought there might be a positive result. And when that came up negative, he bought three more.” We laughed, though my stomach tumbled over itself thinking about all my negative tests. “Honestly, Ceece, he’s been saint. I haven’t been feeling all that well and he’s taken care of

everything. He even made the first doctor’s appointment for me, and we went together. He’s going to be such a good dad. He’s so excited. You should have seen his face when we heard the heartbeat the other day. He cried,” she added with a proud giggle. “I didn’t think I could love him more, but I was so wrong. Babies change it, Ceece. They make everything stronger somehow.” So it was making them closer. They were both happy and excited, the way anyone would be over a welcomed pregnancy. “I’m so happy for you, Luce,” I said as I hugged her tight. “Thanks,” she smiled wider. “I’m happy for me too. Now if I can just get down that stupid aisle and get through all the pomp and circumstance without blowing chunks all over my one-of-a-kind dress, I can relax for two weeks on a beach in Maui.” “You better enjoy it now. You won’t be able to do that after your baby comes.” She shrugged. That didn’t seem to be a deal-breaker for her. “I guess we’ll just have to take our little butter bean with us.” It made me think of my own parents, who were pregnant with me within three months of their meeting. They never let my presence stop them from going where they wanted to go, or doing what they wanted to do. I was crossing the Atlantic at least once a year from the time I was six months old. Little by little, my arguments against having children were

being dismantled. And I knew that losing Lucy to the Mommy Set was a huge setback to remaining childless, just like losing her to the Married Set had been a death blow to my own single status. Pretty soon she’d have a baby, and it would be as though I had one too. That’s how close we were, sisters of choice. And I was truly happy for her. But I was also envious, too. Lucy had always led a charmed life. I envied the things she was, but never the things she had. I could envy her joie de vive without jonesing for her look, her man, her love life or her family. For the first time I was jealous that she was going to spend next Valentine’s Day preparing for her baby, putting him or her in all the fun little clothes I had found, wrapped in sweet little blankets. And I would get to see firsthand how my life might have turned out if my stick had shown a big bold plus sign rather than a defiant minus sign. But I was also missing the morning sickness, which had bent Lucy nearly in half most of the afternoon. Finally we got her dressed and the stylist arrived to complete her look. Jorge Navarro was a stylist to the stars, and took the gig as a personal favor to Sylvia Lyon, who knew everyone there was to know in show business. He read Lucy like a book the second he entered her room.

“Girl,” he said under his breath. “When did that rabbit die?” Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. “How did you know?” He chuckled. “You think you’re the first mommy-to-be I’ve had to camouflage? Happens all the time,” he said before he spun her in her chair to face the mirror and went to work. He had worked magic by the time he was done. She no longer looked pale or washed out. Her skin glowed. Her eyes sparkled. He had given her a dramatic look to compliment the stark modern lines of her designer dress. He worked on me next, but there was precious little that could be done with the puce nightmare. Indeed I had lost enough weight to fit into a smaller size, as far as my waist and hips were concerned anyway. My chest remained large and in charge, forcing me to wear an ill-fitting dress that drooped over my lower body. Jorge turned to Lucy. “Please don’t tell me you did this to her.” Lucy shook her head. “You’ve met my mother.” He nodded as he turned back to me. “I can’t promise anything, but I’m going to do my best to give them something other than the dress to look at.” I nodded and allowed him to transform me as best he could. When he was done, my makeup was immaculate. It was the

most beautiful I had ever looked, if you didn’t count the dress. He leaned toward me to say into my ear. “That’s the best I could do without a wardrobe change. Go with God and pray for a miracle.” “Like what? Tearing the dress off the minute I walk down the aisle?” He rested his hand on my shoulder. “Darling, it could only be an improvement.” At least someone in this wedding thought so, I thought to myself. It was around four o’clock when we all piled into the waiting limo to ride to the church in downtown Los Angeles. Champagne flowed like a river, but I kept Lucy’s glass filled with sparkling cider instead, using her ‘flu’ as the reason. I, on the other hand, chugged champagne like it was going out of style. After all, I wasn’t pregnant, so it didn’t matter if I got raging drunk. Honestly, I wished I had a joint on hand. Something. Anything. We arrived at the church a little before five, where we could put the finishing touches on our makeup and take preliminary photos of the wedding party. I felt it every single time the camera snapped a frame, immortalizing me forever in this horrible dress,

ultimately publicizing this awful look all over the country thanks to the notoriety of the wedding guests, myself included. By six we were ready to take our place just outside the doors of the packed outdoor venue. I met Oliver just as the wedding party prepared to walk down the aisle, to the sound of Pachelbel’s Canon in D. It reminded me momentarily of Devlin, but I didn’t have time to think about it or reminisce. Oliver appeared beside me, arm outstretched, so we could begin our journey down the aisle in front of hundreds of people. I knew Devlin would be one of those people, I just had no idea that he wouldn’t be sitting in the pews like other guests. Instead he was sitting at the piano down front, so handsome in his tux, as he played that song he played weeks ago in Vegas. I wasn’t sure how Lucy had talked Sylvia into using him for the musical accompaniment. Maybe it wasn’t Lucy at all, but Margot, who sat toward the front of the church with Caz Bixby’s arm wrapped around her. He wasn’t exactly subtle as he grinned at me from where I sat, watching me walk down the flower-strewn path with Oliver. I wrenched my eyes away from him to spot Devlin, wondering if he was upset that he had to watch me walk down the aisle with another man. Instead his eyes were closed as he lost himself in the music. I was the last to join the other bridesmaids just as music

faded. I expected Devlin to rise from the piano and take his seat with the other guests as Lucy made her grand entrance to a traditional wedding march. Instead, he launched into Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, which seemed to take a lot of the guests by surprise at first. The minute he started singing, however, so did many of the guests, until the entire place thundered with Lucy’s unintentional song. After that, he played the wedding march and down the aisle she walked, hand in hand with her mother on one side and her father on the other. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Devlin discreetly made his way down from the podium to join the Cabots in the first row. My father smiled at him and patted his arm, likely to show his support that Devlin had made the Cabots proud with his flawless performance. It made me feel even worse about my dress. This was supposed to be the day that we showed Father our progress in making me a more attractive representative of Cabot fashion. Instead I felt every saggy inch of the ill-fitting dress drag down my spirit even more. I focused on the bride and groom as they exchanged their vows (again.) It was much more formal this time around, a truly religious service like my father wanted for Devlin and me. I personally didn’t see what the big deal was. I didn’t consider them

any more married by the time they shared a chaste kiss and turned to walk down the aisle, announced officially as husband and wife to everyone in attendance. The wedding party fell in line behind them, and I ended up walking back down the aisle with Oliver on my arm. I could tell by the way Devlin glared our direction that he didn’t like it one little bit, but there was little any of us could do. Like he had said before, we all had our parts to play. The bridal party finished taking photos as the guests were whisked away to an elegant historic hotel downtown, where a separate reception waited. I accompanied Lucy upstairs to the suite her mother had rented so she could change into her “party” gown. Immediately Lucy brightened the second the door shut behind us. “Hallelujah, the hard part’s over!” she said as she peeled away the first wedding dress as quickly as she could. “I didn’t know that Devlin would be performing! Why didn’t you tell me?” “I didn’t know,” I responded as I helped her out of her first dress and into her second. Lucy picked up on all the things I couldn’t say, like only a best friend could. “What’s wrong, Ceece?” I shook my head. I wasn’t going to burden her with my problems. Not today. She deserved to be happy, and that was what I was going to give to her. “Nothing we need to fix tonight,” I

assured her. She looked uncertain but didn’t argue. Instead I assisted into her beautiful beaded gown. “I love this dress,” I told her as I zipped her in. “Me too,” she said. “It’s just a damned shame you don’t have another dress. That monstrosity is embarrassing.” I sighed. “What can you do? Your mother has spoken.” “True,” Lucy said with a nod. “But thankfully she wasn’t done talking.” I watched as Lucy opened up the closet and withdrew a large box. “What is that?” She grinned as she placed it on the bed and took off the top. Inside was another dress, in the desired puce, with a chiffon skirt and beaded bodice, with black beaded fringe all its own around the dramatic halter neckline. I gasped when I saw it. “Lucy!” She smiled as she helped me pull the dress from the box. “Your husband had it delivered yesterday morning just so Mother could approve.” “Why would she do that?” I pondered aloud before I changed into the new dress. “I told her that maybe it was unfair to keep us all in our stuffy formal wear for the party. So she agreed that all the

bridesmaids could change into something a little zippier for the reception.” I threw my arms around my friend. This was exactly what we needed to prove to Father that design mattered to all kinds of women with all kinds of body types. I knew before we left the hotel room that I was about to stop the show downstairs, every bit as much as the beautiful bride at my side, even if the size-14 dress fit a little more loosely than before. I guess I had lost weight. I’m sure that would get tongues wagging downstairs as well, starting with my dear ol’ dad. And of course the paparazzi snapped photo after photo as we headed down to the ballroom where the party was already in full swing. Our official photographer was quick to grab us for more photos, this time around the hotel. I didn’t even see Devlin until I entered the room just a hair before Gus and Lucy. He sat with the rest of the Cabots, which included Father, Margot, Aubrey, Oliver and Margot’s date for the evening, Caz Bixby. All of the men aside from my father stood as I approached. Before anyone could say anything, Devlin took me into his arms for a possessive kiss that melted me right to my core. We turned together to face my father, who looked my dress up and down to see how much better it flattered my unique figure, even if it wasn’t exactly the right size.

“You look beautiful, CC,” he said, so I reciprocated his kindness by giving him a kiss. “Thanks, Dad,” I whispered against his cheek. I sat between Devlin and my father as we waited for the announcement of Mr. and Mrs. Dunleavy’s arrival. After that, the affair was in Sylvia’s hands. Naturally she had it scheduled to the nanosecond. After they were announced, they were whisked away to the dance floor, to dance for the first time as husband and wife. Or so anyone thought, anyway. Only Devlin, Gus’s sister Mattie and I knew the truth. We shared knowing smiles between us. The toasts came next. I managed to mumble my way through yet again, only this time I managed to both acknowledge my husband’s performance during the wedding and thank him for giving me my happily ever after, so that my bestie and I could share yet another life milestone together. The words choked in my throat when I realized she was going to go a few steps ahead without me, steps I didn’t even know I wanted until a few days ago. But I didn’t mention anything about babies before I toasted the happy couple. After the toasts were completed, dinner was served. Father turned immediately to Devlin. “I have you say that you’ve outdone yourself, Devlin. That dress is beautiful. I take it this is the designer you’ve decided upon for our new clothing line.”

Devlin nodded. “I honestly think she can make any of your customers feel beautiful and glamorous, everything that your grandmother, Hettie, wanted your customers to feel.” Father nodded. “I dare say I agree. So who is this magical designer?” Devlin cleared his throat. “Darcy Masters. My sister.” Father regarded Devlin with a wide-eyed stare. “What?” “Honestly, she’s been providing most of what Coralie has been wearing lately. My sister is a larger woman, so she understands the variances in body type. She designs clothes to make everyone feel beautiful. Mostly she does it for local folks who hire her in Vegas. It took meeting Coralie for her to think about something bigger and more ambitious. She found an investor to help start her company, so she can have a full line for you by the fall.” My eyes slid to Father, who took it all in wordlessly and stoically. “I see.” “She’s in town for the weekend,” Devlin went on to say. “We have several pieces you could consider, this gown among them,” he said as he pointed to the heavenly number I now sported. Father nodded, but didn’t say much. I somehow got the feeling that Devlin saving this little tidbit of information for this wedding reception had been strategic, much like their springing Devlin’s secret project for me at the restaurant had been. They

wanted to avoid a scene. I could tell that my father wasn’t especially pleased about the apparent nepotism Devlin was demonstrating, but I also knew he couldn’t deny just how fabulous the dress really was. It didn’t hurt that several people stopped by our table to brag about my miraculous transformation and find out who had created my remarkable dress. “Darcy Masters,” Devlin answered with pride to each and every one. And if that wasn’t enough to tie Father down and make a decision, Dev openly admitted to everyone that Darcy was being considered for her own special line at Cabot’s. Again, Father merely observed and said nothing at all, but I could tell that he hadn’t missed one manipulative trick up my husband’s sleeve. Finally the food was eaten and the party swung into full gear as a DJ spun some tunes to get people on the dance floor. Devlin grabbed my hand and pulled me into the fray of bodies, holding me tightly to his hardened silhouette. Those incredible green eyes drilled into mine. “You look absolutely amazing, Coralie,” he said. “Thank you,” I said softly. “So do you.” He swung me around as if we were alone in our own little

world. “I’ve missed you,” he admitted as he held me close. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed hard. “Me too,” I said, fighting to hold back the tears that had accumulated over the past emotional few days. I felt his body respond to mine. “I was an idiot to leave,” he confessed softly against my ear. “I knew it the minute I saw you. You’re my home, Coralie. You’re everything I want. Tell me you still love me and we can start over.” “We don’t need to start over,” I told him. “We never ended. And we never will.” His eyes darkened as he stared down at me. “Tell me you love me.” “More every day,” I confirmed with a nod. His mouth slowly descended towards mine for a possessive kiss for the whole room to see. He cupped my face with both hands. “How long do we have to stay?” That was a loaded question. I wasn’t sure how Father felt about things, now knowing that Devlin was jockeying for his sister to design clothes for Cabot, but I sensed it wasn’t good. Maybe he thought he was being played, and technically speaking, he was. Then there was Caz. Now that Dev had effectively showed his hand, there was no way he could risk Father learning about the

past. It was more important than ever to neutralize any threat that Caz might pose. I could tell by the way Caz watched me, with that amused smirk that suggested he knew all of Devlin’s dirty secrets that it was up to me to do it. He thought he could get something out of me because of all the information he knew. And maybe if he could stay focused on me, he’d leave Father out of it. “Not for a little while yet,” I answered Dev’s question. He growled in frustration as he leaned closer, his hand tangled in my hair as he said gruffly in my ear, “I just need to be inside you.” I trembled. I wanted him to be inside me too. But I had also been off the pill for a few days. There was a lot we needed to talk about before we could fall back into each other’s arms again. As we headed back to our table, he was stopped more than once by several people who wanted to praise his performance on the piano. I recognized Graham Baxter, the president of Baxter Mega-Worldwide Media Corporation almost immediately as the handsome man stopped us as we walked by. “That was a wonderful performance, Mr. Masters,” he said, and the lovely redhead at his side nodded. “Have you thought about playing professionally?” Devlin beamed. “Not for a long while, Mr. Baxter,” he said, acknowledging the powerful man who stood before him.

“You should think about it,” Graham said before he withdrew one of his cards from his pocket to give to Devlin. “And then you should call me.” “Yes, sir,” Devlin said. “Thank you so much.” I curled further into Devlin’s arms as we headed the remaining feet towards our table, where Sylvia had stopped to speak to Father. She turned to me with a happy grin, pleased by my transformation. “That dress is lovely, CC,” she said. “Your husband is a very talented man.” I looped my arm in his. “Speaking of which, I’d like to thank you so much for letting him play for the ceremony. That was a lovely surprise.” “For us all,” Sylvia said. “But a friend of mine told me that I would be missing out if I didn’t employ his magical fingers.” She stood back and we could see that our table had another guest, a beautiful blonde in what appeared to be her late forties, dressed to the nines, wearing big baubles of expensive jewelry on every single finger. Devlin practically stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. I felt him stiffen immediately in my arms, so my eyes shot to his face. His jaw clenched tightly, and the hand I had been holding gripped me just as hard. Father smiled as we got into earshot. “Devlin, Coralie,” he announced as he turned back to the

blonde. “Suzanne Everhart, this is my daughter, Devlin’s new wife.” The stunning woman unwound her body to stand at her full height of nearly five-foot-eight. She held out a hand for me, and when I took it she leaned close to kiss me on either cheek. “Mrs. Masters,” she greeted. “So pleased to finally meet you.” I watched as she straightened to face Devlin, whose face was frozen in a mask as she reached up to greet him with similar affection. “Devlin,” she said. “So nice to see you again. It’s been too long.” “Suzanne,” he managed. “Please, sit,” Father encouraged, and we all took our places at the table. “Suzanne was one of Devlin’s early clients,” he explained to me, as if I had forgotten what his private investigator had uncovered about him. Since Suzanne eyed my husband like a raw steak, I knew in that instant what kind of ‘client’ she was. And as one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, I was sure Devlin didn’t even have to act when he seduced her. Her skin was tight and flawless, her hair soft and styled around her perfect face. Her eyes were crystal blue and her body showed the result of long hours at the gym. “Devlin is a miracle worker,” she told me. “I was one hundred and eighty pounds when we met. He whipped me right into shape,” she added with a smile that instantly made me sick.

Maybe it was a good thing I wasn’t pregnant. I would have likely thrown up all over her expensive dress. “You did all the hard work,” Devlin managed. “How’s Harvey?” She laughed rather gaily. “You know Harvey. Ever since he got elected to office he’s in Washington far more than Las Vegas.” Again she turned to me. “Harvey is my husband. He used to run one of the most successful casinos in Vegas, but got into politics several years ago. Devlin helped polish our image so that we could win the seat in congress.” I noticed how she included herself in that equation. “Congratulations,” was all I could think to say. Her eyes never left his face. “You’re lucky to have him,” she said before turning to him. “That was a wonderful performance, Devlin. I think you get better every single time I see you.” Devlin’s jaw twitched. I knew it was clenched to the point of breaking. Finally he rose from the chair. “I think I’m going to refill my drink. Can I get you another, Charles?” he asked and Father nodded. “Yes, that is quite thoughtful. Thank you.” Devlin nodded before he stalked away from the table. Before I could chase after him, Suzanne turned her focus towards me. “Let me guess. Darcy made your gown.” I couldn’t speak. I

simply nodded. “Such a talented girl,” she praised as she looked over my outfit. She turned to Father. “You should snatch her up soon, Charles. Before anyone else has a chance to.” Father didn’t look entirely convinced. “It certainly warrants consideration,” he finally admitted before he, too, turned to inspect my dress. “When Devlin first took me under his wing, her clothes were the first thing he suggested I wear. I was so big back then,” she admitted, which only made me feel more conspicuous. “And yet her clothes made me feel beautiful. Such a magical thing,” she mused as she looked me over. “Wouldn’t you say, Coralie?” I wanted to correct her, to tell her my name was CC, and that she couldn’t call me any other name, but it seemed an overreaction. Clearly this woman was sending me some signals, but I certainly didn’t have to respond to them, even when she was basically calling me a fat cow to my face. “Together the Masters are a winning pair,” Suzanne said as she glanced across the room towards Devlin, where he stood in line for bar service. “And I ran a casino. I know winners when I see them.” Father nodded as he referred to his phone, where photos of her magical transformation sat side by side, which he showed me. In her ‘before’ photo, she was about seventy pounds heavier, with

overly blown out hair and makeup applied with a heavy hand. In the next photo, her body had slimmed down, her hair had been toned down and her makeup was practically nude. The difference was striking, but I knew what truly was behind her transformation. The look in her eyes in the ‘after’ photo clearly showed a woman who had known true pleasure in the arms of a man. I knew that look because I wore that look. “So when did you meet Devlin?” I asked her. Her eyes met mine. “Why, four years ago, dear. When he came to work for me as a blackjack dealer.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN I wasn’t sure if they even heard the gasp elicited by her answer, but for a full second I couldn’t say a word. I could barely breathe. In that one sentence, she had confirmed everything that I knew Devlin never would. I knew in that moment that Suzanne Everhart was Devlin’s first client, the one who had screwed him over and screwed Darcy over. She was the one who had strung him along, making all her grand promises. Because of her, he couldn’t fully trust anything I might promise. “I’ve heard that before. From someone a lot richer than you.” She owned a casino, which I was pretty sure made quite a bit more money than Cabot’s. And from the way Devlin reacted when he had to face her, I was sure there was nothing but animosity left between them. From what little I knew about his past, I knew that his resentment, his anger, could only mean one thing. He hated her for what she had done to him, and to his sister. “So in she rode in on her diamond-studded white stallion, promising to fix all of our problems. Darcy believed her. I believed her. We put all our eggs in her basket because

we bought her sweet load of bullshit, which she hid behind the smile of a friend, the charitable heart of a benevolent benefactor. A lover. It was all an act, Coralie. Part of the fantasy. Her fantasy.” I turned back to Suzanne, who spoke with a faint accent, the telltale hint of a Georgia lilt. This was a southern girl who likely came from old Southern money, who likely used charm to get exactly what she wanted. And I could tell by the way her eyes scoped over the hardened body of my husband that she still wanted Devlin. “You certainly don’t have to sell me on Devlin’s qualities,” I smiled. “I think he’s exceptional, otherwise I wouldn’t have married him.” I watched her eyes narrow as she stared at me. She got the hands-off, trespassers-shot-on-sight message loud and clear. “You are a lucky woman,” she purred. “Indeed,” I said. “I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us. With Darcy’s designs, we can’t lose. That will free up some time so that I can ultimately stay home with our children. You know how much family means to Dev,” I added, sweet as sugar. Her smile widened, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. I had made it clear that I wasn’t just any woman; I was Coralie Masters, Devlin’s wife. I held the ultimate ace up my sleeve. I was the only

one on the planet who could stake a claim to his future, no matter how many vivacious, beautiful women had marked him as their territory in the past. I won. He was mine. It made me empathize a lot more with how angry Devlin got when we returned from Vegas, and Oliver manhandled me to stake his claim about two weeks too late. When you have something special, you hold onto it. You fight for it. You never let it go. And I was never going to let Dev go. I politely excused myself and headed straight to my husband. That’s right. My husband. I walked up behind him and slid my arms around his waist, resting my chin against his strong shoulder. “You okay?” He nodded, but I didn’t believe him. “I had no idea she was going to be here,” he muttered as we inched closer to the front of the line. I said nothing as I held him closer. He turned to me with a curious glance. “No inquisition?” I shook my head. “I know who she is, Devlin. I could tell by the look in your eyes when you saw her.” He nodded and brushed his hands along my arms, both of which grasped him tightly around the middle. “I’m sorry,” he offered

but I wouldn’t allow him to apologize. “Not necessary,” I said. “I’m the one wearing your rings. That’s all that matters to me.” He turned me into his embrace to kiss me softly. “Can we leave yet?” I spotted Caz out of the corner of my eye. “Not yet,” I said before I disentangled myself. If Dev was mine to protect, then I supposed it was time for me to do what I needed to do. I walked over to where he stood, holding my aunt’s place at the table while she and Aubrey escaped to the ladies’ room to powder their noses. Father was preoccupied with Suzanne, so I could speak to him uninterrupted. His eyes glittered as I approached. “Hello, CC,” he said. “Good to see you again.” “Caz,” I nodded in greeting. “I thought maybe we could schedule some workout sessions. If you’re free.” He chuckled at the term, and I supposed I could understand why. Of course he wasn’t free. “Given up on the tennis lessons already, Mrs. Masters?” he asked. “I’m not really big on playing games,” I told him coolly. “Of course not,” he agreed easily. “Just fair warning, though. My training program is pretty rigorous. Are you sure your husband can bear to share you week in and week out while we get

you into shape?” I gritted my teeth. “My husband’s going to be busy with our new clothing line.” I held up the flowing skirt. “What do you think?” He scoped me over, before his lazy gaze came back to rest on my face. “Stunning,” he said softly. “I’d have to check my schedule, but I think I have an opening on Wednesday. Is that good for you?” I nodded. I knew I’d have to make it work regardless. I had to keep this fish on the line for as long as it took to convince father about Darcy’s clothing line. “Sounds perfect. I sure hope you can help me. Physical agility isn’t exactly my strong suit.” “I don’t believe that,” he smiled. “Sad but true,” I confirmed. He stood. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to do a test run on the dance floor, then. Just so I know what I’m working with.” “We’re going to go to the wedding next week, just like he will. And at the reception, he’s going to ask you to dance.” Caz’s eyes practically sparkled as he stared down at me. Whether it was mischief or mayhem, I couldn’t be sure. I slid a glance towards Dev, who merely acknowledged my plan with an imperceptible nod. Only then did I follow Caz onto the crowded dance floor. He fit me easily against his body, his hand resting

dangerously close to the curve of my ass. “He’s going to hold you inappropriately, just to get to me, to make me lose my temper.” I gritted my teeth as I followed his lead. “See, that’s not bad at all,” he crooned softly as he pulled me closer, making sure I could feel him pressing into me. His fingers dipped down into the fleshy part of my hips. “Lots of raw potential.” “He’ll flirt. He’ll test your boundaries.” I steeled myself against him. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Caz.” He chuckled, wearing that lopsided smirk shamelessly. “Says the woman in my arms, practically letting me grab her ass.” I started to move out of his arms but he held me tighter. “Fine, I’ll be good,” he promised, but I didn’t believe him. “You’re going to have to get used to the idea of being close to me,” he warned as his thumb absently drew circles against my back. “If you trust me, I can teach you anything,” he added with a heavy dose of innuendo. “Shouldn’t you save those ‘lessons’ for my aunt?” I challenged. He leaned forward. “I’m young. I know how to juggle.” “I bet,” I chided. “All I need is a workout coach. Dev’s going to be busy with this new clothing line, and I’d like to get fit in

the meantime. As fit as possible, as quickly as possible,” I added. “Something big in mind?” he asked. I nodded. “Like a wedding?” he probed, likely trying to figure out how long he could keep me on the line, and milk me for money when the time was right. Instead my eyes met his. “Like a baby,” I answered. And I was only half-lying. Either way I couldn’t argue with the effect. Caz Bixby no longer looked as smug as he had when he dragged me out onto the dance floor. “Isn’t it a little soon for that?” I shrugged. “My mother was pregnant within months of meeting my dad. If they can do it…,” I trailed off, and let him fill in the rest. “So do you think you can help me?” He studied me for a long minute before he nodded at last. “You got yourself a trainer, Mrs. Masters,” he said. I leaned in just a little, pressing my full breasts into his chest. “Good. See you Wednesday.” With that I pulled out of his arms and went to find my husband. We waited just long enough to see off Gus and Lucy, before he practically dragged me out to the car. I was in his arms before we ever reached it. I responded to his hungry kiss. “Let’s go home,” he growled against my mouth. I nodded. It was definitely time to go home.

When we got to our place, he picked me up and carried me over the threshold, and didn’t stop until we landed on our bed. He kissed me like he had been waiting to do it for days, and I suppose, really, he had. All our arguments seemed so stupid now. When I was in his arms, life simply made sense. It wasn’t as complicated as I had always thought it would be. I wanted someone and I was with them. Easiest decision ever. As he made quick work of my dress, baring my body for him, to tease and torment like he always did, I realized that soon I would have yet another decision to make. And I didn’t want to make it alone, or by accident. Before he could bury his face between my thighs, I pulled him up to face me. “Devlin, we need to talk.” He groaned. “Coralie. Don’t do this.” “Not about the past,” I assured at once. I didn’t want to think about, or hear about, Suzanne Everhart. As far as I was concerned, she was irrelevant. “About the future,” I said instead. His eyes met mine. “What do you mean?” I took a deep breath, summoning all my courage. “I hadn’t got my period in almost three weeks,” I informed him, feeling the direct approach was probably best. “I went to the doctor yesterday.” I could feel Dev physically brace, so I let him almost immediately off the hook. “He said I wasn’t pregnant.”

Devlin practically sighed in relief, which gave me pause. “I guess we should be more careful,” he suggested. I nodded. “We could. Or we could just let fate decide.” Again his eyes met mine. “What are you saying?” I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m saying I love you, Devlin. I want to be with you. I want a future with you. I never want to let you go. I trust us, whatever fate might bring.” He seemed to hold his breath, so I finally said the words I hadn’t been able to muster before. “I want to have your baby, Dev.” “Coralie,” he breathed as he reached for a kiss. “Are you sure?” I nodded. “Surer than I’ve been about anything in a long, long time. When I thought I might be pregnant, all I could think about was how we could fit a baby into our world. It’s not as hard as I always thought it would be, and I know that’s because I’m meant to be with you. We’re meant to be a family.” He held me closely in response to that all important word. “I’ve stopped taking my birth control. According to what I’ve read, my cycles will normalize within a couple of months.” I touched his face with my hand. “We could get pregnant in France,” I murmured. “Chateau du Cabot, where I was conceived. It’s perfect.” He took my face in his hand to kiss me softly. “You’re

perfect,” he corrected in a whisper. “I love you, Coralie Masters.” I smiled. That was who I was now. There was no doubt left in my mind. “I love you, Devlin Masters,” I said, before I pulled him down to me for yet another kiss. That night we made love with a condom, which is the only kind of birth control we’d use while we waited for my body to get back to normal. Once we got to France, however, we’d cease using anything at all. Nature would take its course from there. I had no doubt that within a few short months I’d be pregnant with Devlin Masters’ child. I knew at last that nothing in this world could make me happier.

CHAPTER TWELVE My period showed up on Saturday, while we were out looking at houses. As if it was punishing me, this particular cycle nearly had me doubled over with cramps. It even sent me one whopper of a migraine. We cut our open house marathon short, and Devlin fussed over me and took care of me while I felt so shitty, using his phone to keep in contact with Darcy as she finalized the pieces she planned to model for my father on Monday. Devlin never left my side. He kept me propped up in bed or on our sofa, near him always, no matter what he was doing, while I muscled through the worst period of my adult life. He went to the store for me, buying all the products I’d need without complaint or reservation. He even surprised me with some chocolate to feed the beast. Needless to say it was a first to have all my needs met by an intimate partner. Even though I was miserable, I’d really never felt closer to him. I could only imagine what it would be like to share a pregnancy with him. As he rubbed my feet in his hands while we watched TV together, I knew that he would be a strong, steady partner to assist me not only with the mechanics of getting pregnant, but the months-long journey to deliver our baby. Late at night, when we lay together on our bed, we talked

about what it was going to be like. He seemed excited by the prospect, even though it meant sleepless nights and restrictive days. Suddenly nothing seemed as scary as spring passing us by without having a baby of our own. Since I had plenty of time lying around that weekend to plan, I calculated to the day when I might conceive. As it turned out, I could very well ovulate on August 8th, which meant that the twenty-four hour window to conceive our first child arrived on or around my birthday. Could it get any more perfect than that? This would give us a due date of April 30. It didn’t have the same kind of zing as Valentine’s Day, but it wouldn’t be that far off from Lucy’s due date, so we could still raise our kids together like we had always planned to do. “We can even take the test while we’re in France,” I told him as I showed him the online calculator. “That way we can surprise Father when we come back home.” He shook his head. “We should probably wait for a while, just to be safe,” he said. “We’ll tell them on Thanksgiving, when we reveal a new line of maternity clothes in extended sizes.” That was my hubby. He was always thinking ahead. He had also purchased pre-natal vitamins to prepare my

body for the hard work ahead. We cuddled together that Sunday night, talking softly and dreaming about the future. It was so much better than freaking out–alone–waiting for a test to tell me that my fate was already changed, I’d just have to adjust. Instead we were making plans. We were talking, perhaps for the first time ever, about the things that mattered to us. “I want a boy first,” I told him. “A big brother to look after and protect his little sister. Like you with Darcy.” He stroked my hair with his hand. “I want a girl,” he admitted. “Who looks just like her mama.” He kissed me then, softly, lovingly… reverently. We discussed names, and Devlin surprised me by suggesting French names to appease my father, since his grandchildren wouldn’t be entirely French. We settled on Remi for a boy and Chloe for a girl. In fact, it wasn’t even that hard to decide. It was like they already existed in some alternate universe; we were just waiting to meet them in this one. “Did you ever think you’d be planning for a baby within a few months of meeting me?” I giggled as I traced little circles across his massive chest. “No,” he admitted with a chuckle of his own. “I hadn’t thought about children in a long time,” he admitted. I glanced up at him.

“You’ve wanted children before?” He gathered me close. “Once.” I wanted to ask him who and when, but I was afraid to broach such a tender topic, especially while we were doing so well with everything else. “So you’ve been in love before?” “I thought I was,” he admitted at last. “When she missed a period, I thought for sure that was fate telling us we could have it all, even though every moment we had was stolen. She was married,” he confessed. In an instant, I knew he meant Suzanne. He didn’t even have to confirm. “What happened?” He sighed. “Ultimately there was no baby. But it was the scare she needed to put an end to our affair, before it seriously complicated everything for her.” “You must have been heartbroken.” Again he nodded. “I was thinking this was the thing that would finally allow us to be together. Instead she decided it was the thing that proved we should be apart. She never wanted kids. She never really wanted the love I offered, just the fun. I could never be here with her like this, dreaming about the future, talking about a family. Anytime anything got too serious, she was ready to fly right out the door, right back to her cushy, pampered life, and whatever man could pay her the most attention.”

I could tell by the edge in his voice he was still pretty bitter about it. “And you worried that was what I might do when I wouldn’t even talk about babies or the future of our family.” He sighed as he gathered me closer. “There was a time when I thought I could never love anyone the way I loved her. Then I met you. I see our future in your eyes, Coralie. All the years we’d share, the business we’d run, the home we’d create. I see our children,” he added softly, his eyes locked with mine. “My future was a bunch of blank pages before. But it has filled in with all this color now. I see every picture and every frame. If I lost you,” he started, but the tremor throughout his body silenced him. I held him close. “You’re never going to lose me, Devlin,” I promised. He absently brushed his thumb over my wedding rings. It reminded me of his urgency to marry me quickly, to stake his claim before I disappeared back into the ether like all of his other clients. It was why he was just as excited to conceive our first child quickly like I was. He knew better than to take it for granted. What we had was special. And we were going to fortify it however we could. We were also going to protect it however we could. That Monday, we arranged a small fashion show for my father, to present Darcy’s designs to him at last. Darcy was shy as

she met my imposing father, which somehow managed to soften him. Even if he thought Devlin had manipulated him, it was easy to tell that Darcy was an innocent, someone meek and humble and grateful to even have a shot. There was something wounded in her, something that needed to be protected. In equal measure was the flickering light we could all see trying to catch, which needed kindness to nurture. Father seemed to understand that almost immediately, as did Oliver, oddly. I was afraid how they would regard her due to her size, given that’s always been such an iffy spot with them. But both welcomed her warmly and gently, talking with her about the practicality of her designs, trying to understand what she knew about the female form that many all of our current designers didn’t. It took her few minutes to find her voice. Only when it appeared that Father was listening did she confide in using the right fabrics, as well as the more flattering necklines and waistlines, and what made them flattering. Father surprised us all when he informed her that he wanted exclusive rights to her designs, starting with a wedding dress he wanted her to design for us. “I was thinking a New Year’s Eve wedding,” he said as he looked at Dev and me. I made quick calculations in my head. I’d be in my second

trimester at that point, so it could work. Per my online calculator, I wouldn’t even show until mid-November, and I knew that Darcy could perform wonders with a wedding dress that would conceal any baby bump if we decided to wait until the reception to officially announce our baby news. Couldn’t get more perfect than that. So I happily agreed to a “real” wedding in our family church on December 31st, and Darcy went right to work on what kind of dress she would design for me. I suggested an A-line dress with an empire waistline, just to be on the safe side. I truly didn’t anticipate any problems getting pregnant. This was what I wanted now, more than anything, and I was going to make it happen. Considering I was married to the man of my dreams and my store had finally signed a designer who could produce the kinds of clothes I wanted to wear, I felt unstoppable. Our biggest fly in the ointment was Caz Bixby, but I figured I could take care of him too. I met him for our first workout that Wednesday, at the gym near our store. I wanted the privacy of our home gym, or the gym at our apartment, but Dev was adamant. He didn’t trust Caz as far as he could throw him, so he wanted to minimize any opportunities Caz might have taken to get me alone.

Personally I figured that was all part of the plan. As long as he felt he could manipulate me, he’d stay the hell away from Father. I just had to keep him safely distracted until after we got back from France. By then I would be pregnant, and I knew my conventional father would never condone our divorcing after that. No matter what was revealed about Devlin, my father would suck it up and accept it for the sake of his grandchildren. He’d even move heaven and earth to protect Devlin’s dirty little secrets, simply to protect his heirs. Nothing mattered more to my father than legacy. After August, all of Caz’s threats would be moot. And I was pretty confident I could hold him off until then. I arrived at the gym early and changed into my workout clothes. Caz was late, likely a power play, but I remained easygoing, even after he showed up and suggested we get out of that old stuffy gym and do something a little more ‘exciting.’ I glanced him over in his shorts and muscle shirt, which showed off dramatic tattoos on either arm, hinting this man could walk the line between bad boy and elite companion every bit as well as Devlin himself. That was his job, and from the looks of it he was very good at it. I knew Dev would kill me but I followed Caz out to his sleek sports car, which he helped me into before trotting around to

the driver’s side. As soon as he got in, I sent him a wry glance. “You’re not going to take me out to the middle of nowhere and leave me for dead, are you?” He chuckled. “No, but after our workout today, you might wish I had.” “Ah. So you’re a sadist, then.” He slid me a cool glance. “I have my moments. But you’ll thank me for it when you see the results.” “Well, you have about six months to whip me into shape. My official, Father-approved wedding is now scheduled for December 31st.” Of course, I didn’t plan to be shackled with this guy beyond the end of August, when I returned home from Châlons-enChampagne hopefully pregnant with Devlin’s child. But he didn’t need to know that. “A lot can change in six months,” he agreed with a slight nod of his head. I could only hope he was right. “So how are things going with Margot?” I asked, figuring that I’d let him think they were merely dating, rather than conducting a business arrangement. “She’s a beautiful, exciting lady,” he conceded with another nod. “We’re having a lot of fun. Her daughter sure is a pill, though.” I laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Not sure if I’d trust her alone with your husband,” he commented casually as he easily navigated the car through midafternoon traffic. This is where his innocent offer to help whip me into shape gave way to his true motive: giving me reason to distrust my husband. My only job was to play along. “What do you mean?” He shrugged. “She’s a beautiful girl who knows how to get what she wants. And I get the feeling what she really wants is to watch the world burn. She’s going to test every single boundary, which is why she’s going to use these bogus piano lessons to get close to her cousin’s hot new husband, just to see how far she can push the envelope of propriety.” It surprised me that he was more worried about Aubrey than Devlin himself, considering this would be the prime opportunity to plant those seeds of doubt. “I trust my husband,” I said, to subtly goad him, just to see what he’d say. “It’s a mistake to trust any man,” Caz said. “When it all comes down to it, we’re just a very simplistic creatures motivated by primal urges.” “Not exactly a ringing endorsement for me to be alone with you in your car, being transported to places unknown,” I pointed out. Again he chuckled. “Touché.”

After a silent moment passed, I asked, “Can I trust you, Caz?” He turned to me, his eyes traveling over my face and down to my chest. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” His answer took me by surprise. It also made me huddle practically into a ball in the passenger seat as he drove us straight for the beach in Santa Monica. I wasn’t sure what he had planned for me until he headed right for the bike rental shop. “Riding bikes at the beach?” I queried. “That’s your strenuous workout plan?” He smiled. “For now. We’re going to get you nice and comfortable in that pot before I turn up the heat and boil the water.” I scowled. “Thanks for the warning.” ‘You’re quite welcome,” he said with a smile. We got our bikes and set off south towards Venice, using the bike pathway that meandered lazily beside the sand up and down the beach. He kept a brisk pace, so I had to work to keep up with him. He decided to keep me otherwise occupied, talking about my upcoming wedding. “What does a bride wear when she cannot wear white?” he mused. I shrugged. “I can wear any color I choose to, even white if I wanted.”

“Rebel,” he grinned at me. It made me laugh. If only he knew. Oh wait. He already did. “So how many clients have you had to train to get ready for a wedding?” He shrugged. “A few, not many. My clients tend to be a little older, more business-minded. They don’t have time really to date, much less marry. They cashed in their dreams of happily ever after on security of knowing they can take care of themselves. Everything they do with me is an extension of that.” It was surprisingly an honest answer, given that he probably didn’t think I knew what he did for a living. But maybe that was part of the point. Dev’s words of caution rang in my ears. “Whatever he says, you mustn’t believe him, Coralie. Even when he speaks the truth, he does it for a dishonest reason. You understand?” “So you don’t have any happily married clients, I take it?” “If they were truly happy, they wouldn’t need me, would they?” That gave me pause. “Look at you. Even with your new marriage and all your money, you’re still unsatisfied.” I bristled immediately. “That’s not true.” “Then why are you here with me, Coralie?” he asked softly.

“I prefer you call me CC,” was my icy reply. He didn’t bother hiding his grin. “Whatever you say. CC.” “I am happy,” I informed him. “Okay,” he replied, with that same amused smirk. It wasn’t sexy, like Dev’s smirk had always been. Instead it suggested he was an unapologetic asshole, who got great amusement at other people’s expense. I didn’t understand this mentality. I turned the tables on him. “Are you happy?” He shot me a glance, as if he really wasn’t expecting that question. As if he had never really been asked that before. “Of course I’m happy. I have a great job. Great friends.” “Do you?” I questioned in a softer voice. “Or are you just playing the game, just like everyone else?” He pulled off to the side, sliding off of his bike and parking it by a palm tree. “Happiness doesn’t just happen, CC. You make it happen. I decide to be happy with my job and my friends, so I am.” He glanced me over. “Get off the bike. We’re going to do some stretches.” I didn’t put up a fight as I got off of my bike and parked it by his, then joined him in the sand. I mirrored his movements as the waves crashed against the shore behind us. He circled me, eyeing me critically so he could know just where to plan his attack. “You’re in pretty good physical shape,” he conceded at last.

“Definitely top-heavy though. Have you ever considered surgery to balance your figure?” I glared at him. “My husband likes that I’m top-heavy.” He chuckled. “Yeah. I guess he would.” I stood up straight. “What is that supposed to mean?” He circled me even closer. “What would you say if I told you that I’ve known Devvy for quite a while? Years in fact. I know him better than anyone. Even his sister. Even you,” he added softly as he leaned towards me. “I’d say you were deluding yourself,” I answered with a defiant tip of my chin. He chuckled. “I see you’ve opted to stay clueless and happy. His suggestion, no doubt. But, given I actually know the truth, I can’t really say I blame you.” I sighed in exasperation. “Just say what you’re going to say and be done with it, Caz.” “You’re sweet. I’ll give you that. It’s easier to buy the fairytale than question fate a little too closely. But believe me when I say that nothing happens accidentally. There is no such thing as serendipity, not in your world. Things don’t just happen by chance. There’s too much on the line.” I crossed my arms across my chest and waited. Finally he tore off the bandage.

“There’s a reason that Devlin Masters is with you, and it has dick to do with love. He’s a hustler, CC. Always has been. Always will be.” “And you know this because…?” “I’m a hustler, too,” he admitted with zero shame. “Deep down, we all are.” I shook my head. “I don’t believe that.” He stepped closer. “Then believe this. Devlin Masters sleeps with women for money. And that hasn’t changed just because you put a wedding ring on his finger.” My heart dropped. As much as I knew better than to believe these words, they hurt all the same. “What are you talking about?” “Don’t play dumb with me, Coralie,” he said softly as he stepped even closer, to run a finger along my arm. “I was there when your email came through to the agency. I know that you hired Devlin to fuck you.” I gasped and backed up a step. He closed the new gap between us easily. “You should have seen how the office lit up when we got your email. Coralie Cabot, the one heiress to a fashion dynasty. Devlin had at least three dates booked for that Saturday, and he scrambled to dump them all just to make room for you.” He leaned

forward. “Haven’t you ever wondered why that particular guy was free on that particular day?” I gulped hard. He continued. “It all seemed a little too perfect, didn’t it, sweetheart? You didn’t question it. You thought it was magic. But don’t you find it the teeniest bit coincidental that he just so happened to have a clothing designer for a sister?” He paused just to let what he was suggesting sink in. “Same hourly rate for the same kind of clients. What made you so special if it wasn’t for your last name? Why take such a loss, if he wasn’t expecting one hell of a gain?” “So you’re saying he married me to get to Cabot’s,” I surmised. He shrugged. “It’s only been a month and already he’s an executive, who is likely sliding his sister right into place. He probably even made it seem like it was your idea.” “Why would he do such a thing? Why marry me if he didn’t love me? He didn’t have to.” I thought about the hundred thousand I had given Darcy, days before Devlin ever put a ring on my finger. “He could have had it all without having to marry me.” Caz chuckled. “That might be true if all he wanted was money.” “So what does he want?” I asked at last. “Revenge,” Caz stated simply.

I shook my head and started for the bike, but Caz pulled me back by the arm. “He hates rich people, CC. He has ever since Suzanne Everhart fucked him over in Vegas. God, she was a first class bitch. She played his heart like a fiddle and now he makes every rich woman pay for her mistakes. Literally,” he added. “You’re not the first. You won’t be the last.” Again I tipped my chin. “I’m the first he married,” I stated. “Maybe because you’re the first one dumb enough to do it,” he countered. I tried to pull my arm away but he held me fast. “Think about it, CC. You paid $25,000 for one week with him, and he came back to town with one-half of your entire estate. Talk about winning big in Vegas.” I tried again to pull my arm free. “You’re just full of theories, aren’t you? And just what do you want out of the deal?” “Simple. I want $10,000 per week until I get you to your New Year’s Eve wedding, then I disappear from your life forever. You can have your happily ever after, since it means so much to you. But I guarantee it won’t last. He’ll be gone by January 1st.” I thought about all our plans to have a baby. I shook my head. “You’re wrong.” “It’s been known to happen,” he shrugged. “But I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is. You don’t have to pay me

one thin dime until January 1st. I’ll keep your secrets. You’ll keep mine. And when January 1st comes, and you’re all alone, we’ll have one date, you and me, where you’ll pay me every single dime you owe because Devlin Masters will be out of your life for good. You don’t even have to fuck me,” he offered, magnanimously. “But you will, because you’ll want to make Devlin pay for breaking his promises to you. What better way than fuck the guy he hates?” I couldn’t help but scoff. “Wow. You have balls the size of church bells.” “You really think Dev and I are so different?” “Yes, I do,” I gritted between clenched teeth. “So what happens on January 1st, when I wake up in the arms of my husband?” He shrugged. “Then I’ll concede the defeat to true love. But that’s not going to happen. And I’m willing to bet every single dime against it. How many weeks until your wedding?” I had to think about it. It was just shy of six months away. “Twenty-seven,” I finally answered. “So what is twenty-seven times $10,000?” he asked. “More than a quarter of a million dollars, yes?” I figured he knew damned well that it was. He came into this meeting with a plan. “You tell me,” I snapped.

“Two hundred, seventy thousand, in fact,” he answered with that asshole smirk. “But I’ll cut you a deal, since we’re only meeting for one day a week. For now,” he added as he looked me over. “So a cool quarter-mil. How does that sound?” “You do realize that you’re betting on my unhappiness. You understand what kind of person that makes you?” He nodded as he released me and returned to his bike. “A hustler. Same as Dev. Same as you.” He caught my surprised look. “Come on, CC. You didn’t call me because you wanted to work out. You just wanted to see what kind of cards I held so you could know how to manipulate me for the next six or so months, probably to keep me from running to Daddy with the scandalous truth.” It was obvious that he found my surprise amusing. “Come on. I knew that the minute you let me grope you on the dance floor. What happy newlywed does that?” He laughed. “Dev really should have warned you. You can’t con a con.” I followed him, albeit reluctantly. “Take comfort, sweet Coralie,” he smiled at me as we started back up the bike path. “At least I’m being open and honest about what I want. And that’s more than you can ever say about Dev, whose allure has always depended on his mystery. But it’s all calculated, right down to every last detail. Admit it. He had a plan of attack already in motion by the time you left dinner last week,

didn’t he? Probably not unlike your first date with him, when he magically seemed to know what you wanted before you could tell him, even before you met. You think that’s an accident?” I gulped hard as I thought about the clothes that Dev had gotten from Darcy, right down to the size. “This time he asked you to play a part, to go along with it,” Caz finished. “But do you really think I’m the only one he’s playing, CC?” Off my look he continued, “Look at you, CC. You’ve already started to change. A recurring theme with Mr. Masters, isn’t it? He romances unattractive women with means all the time, because he has to. But if a woman is going to be on his arm, she has to change. Why do you think he wanted you to hire me as your trainer, not just a tennis instructor?” I didn’t say much of anything all the way back to the store, and Caz seemed content to let all the information he’d shared come to a simmer at the base of my brain. I was still processing it all long after he left me at my office. Devlin was quick to check in with me on how it all went. He locked the door behind him so we wouldn’t be disturbed, a necessary precaution now that Oliver just waltzed into my office whenever he pleased. “So?” Dev asked as he plopped down in the chair across from my desk.

“He wants a quarter of a million dollars,” I stated simply as I leaned back in my chair. Devlin broke out laughing. “He’s got balls the size of watermelons,” he said, inadvertently echoing what I had said. “I guess I have to give him that if nothing else. What did he say when you told him you weren’t going to pay him?” “That’s just the thing. I only have to pay him if one criteria is met.” Dev’s green eyes pierced mine. “And that is?” “If we break up by New Year’s Day.” Devlin’s smile faded. “I see. What else did he say?” I took a deep breath. There was no other option than to tell him everything. “He said that you were playing me, virtually conning me out of half of my estate by marrying me, just so you could get Darcy in as a designer at Cabot’s.” I watched his jaw clench tight. “I see,” he repeated again. “He put all his cards on the table, Dev. Didn’t even try to hide it. Told me that he knew that I had hired you from the agency. He said he was there when my email came through, and how you scrambled to rearrange your schedule to accommodate me. That it was your plan all along, to get revenge on someone who was rich because you basically hate all of us because of what happened with Suzanne.” I took a deep breath and forged on. “He also said that in

order for me to be your wife, I would have to change, to get fit, to be worthy to be seen on your arm, just like Suzanne did. He thinks by going through with these workout sessions, I’m being played too.” He hadn’t moved a muscle, but those eyes were lethal. “And did you believe him?” he asked me at last. That certainly was the question. “No,” I answered at last, because there could be no other response. He nodded. “Good.” He rose to his feet and I thought he might leave the office entirely. Instead he took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair. Then he walked around my desk and pulled me up into his arms. His lips crushed mine before I even knew what was happening. I was breathless when I pulled away. “What are you doing?” His voice was soft. His eyes were deep. And I felt his body harden against me. “Rewarding my good girl,” he said before he reached around to swipe everything off my desk and onto the floor. I nearly yelped as he lifted me up and tossed me onto my desk, landing on top of me, fitting his body between my legs. “Dev,” I started, but he placed a finger against my lips. “Shhh,” he said before he kissed me, deep and slow. I was powerless against him as his mouth dragged from mine, towards the curve of my chin, down the length of my neck and across my chest.

He used his teeth to unbutton my shirt, revealing more milky white flesh for his inquisitive, magical mouth. I gasped when he shoved my bra out of the way so he could take my breast into his mouth. Down the hall I could hear the phones ringing, or people talking in the other offices. And yet here I was, reduced to a puddle of goo, simply because Devlin’s mouth was on my body. He wasn’t done. He revealed my body inch by inch, using mostly his teeth to disrobe me, until he landed square between my legs. He knelt on his knees on the floor as he parted my thighs with his strong hands. The cool air from the air conditioner wafted against my sensitive skin. He used his fingers to open me up, just like a rose. I trembled in anticipation of what that tongue would feel like, swirling against me, circling my clit and coaxing yet another flurry of orgasms, although this time it was right in my office, right in the middle of the workday, so scandalous and inappropriate and wrong. And sexy. So. Goddamn. Sexy. I grabbed his dark hair in my hands to push his face against me. He sucked me into his mouth so hard that it made me cry out in spite of myself. Despite the fact he could work quick magic on me, and often did, he took his time, savoring his naughty mid-afternoon snack. He would take me right to the brink before he’d slow it all down again. It didn’t take long at all for me to forget where we

were. In Devlin’s hands, and particularly at the tip of his tongue, I was lost in my own little world. “Devlin,” I gasped softly. He chuckled against me, which made my whole body shudder. “You can’t have it till I hear you scream, darlin.’” I shook my head. He was asking the impossible. This wasn’t just my place of business, it was my family company. I couldn’t let everyone know we were having dirty sex in the office like a couple of animals. I had standards to uphold. I had obligations. I had a brand to protect, including my own. But I also had an ache inside me that demanded one thing and one thing only. “I need you inside me.” He continued to tease me, flicking that skillful tongue against my engorged clitoris until I practically bucked against his face. “Scream,” he commanded, before taking me into his mouth and sucking hard. I cried out but I couldn’t bring myself to scream, even as he teased me with his fingers, drawing circles against my skin without ever penetrating me. I was so frustrated I practically clawed the polished wood of my desk. “Devlin, please…,” I muttered. He shook his head, dragging his mouth against me. “Obey your husband, Coralie,” he murmured against me. “Please!” I cried out, louder this time. Two fingers slipped

inside as he clamped his mouth on top of me. He didn’t stop until I was thrashing against his face. He made me come hard, twice, before he stood up. I could see his hardened silhouette in his designer slacks, which he quickly unfastened to let them drop. His scorpion tattoo curled towards the waistband of his underwear, which he likewise quickly abandoned. His heavy cock sprang forward, and I could already feel it inside of me. “Turn over, Coralie,” he said as he started to stroke that impossibly hard shaft. I was still trembling from my last orgasm as I positioned myself on my stomach, baring my ass for him. He nudged my thighs further apart before using his fingers to open me. I heard the condom package tear. Seconds later, without any preamble, he slammed himself up inside. I had no choice but to scream. He curled his body around me, his chest to my back, his hand in my hair as he tugged my head back so he could latch his mouth onto my sensitive neck. “Let them hear,” he said, dragging his teeth against my skin. “Let them all know that your husband is fucking the shit out of you.” He slammed into me again, which elicited another scream. “That’s it,” he said as he began pummeling me from behind. His fingers curled, tugging his handful of hair, yanking my head back so he could latch his mouth onto my neck. I hadn’t had a hickey since the eighth grade, but he seemed determined to leave his mark.

I clawed at the desk, unable to do anything but obey his every command, even when he told me to come. He pistoned in and out of me, with primal grunts and deep groans, until finally he thrust himself up inside me one last time. Finally he collapsed against me. “That’s for anyone who thinks I might be faking how much I want you, how much I need you, just as you are,” he said. I turned to face him. His eyes were dark. “Devlin,” I started, but he shut me up with another kiss. His hand slid between my body and the cool wood of my desk, to disappear between my legs. He nearly choked me with his tongue as he fingered me towards yet another orgasm, where my contracting muscles practically milked him dry. This time he didn’t have to ask me to scream. He kissed his way down my body before he finally stood and withdrew himself so that he could dress. Within minutes, we had straightened our clothes, rearranged my desk and Devlin went back to whatever he was doing for the new clothing line, with only a bemused smirk by Simon to let us know anyone at all knew what we had done. That, and my body, which bore the imprint of his every time I dared move. Our passionate union had been rougher than usual. Defiant, almost, as if Devlin had something to prove. I was

once again claimed, irrefutably so. And Caz was effectively forgotten for the rest of the day.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Thoughts of Caz were put on the backburner all the way to the following Wednesday, when I was scheduled to “work out” with him again. I figured I could play Caz’s game for a few months. It would keep him preoccupied and away from Father, and then when New Year’s Day came and went without the world falling apart like he predicted, we could send him on his way without one red cent. “He’ll come up with something new,” Dev warned me that following Tuesday night, as he held me in his arms. Like the dalliance in my office, he made sure he staked his claim prior to my seeing Caz Bixby again, so we made love practically from the time we got home from work to the time we went to bed. It wasn’t as barbaric as before, but by the time we went to bed that night, there wasn’t a part of my body that didn’t bear his signature. Even the way he held me in his arms was possessive. He practically curled his body around me, as though I had disappeared within his embrace. I had honestly never felt safer or more at home. To me, that was the only thing that mattered. “He can come up with whatever he wants to, Dev. It doesn’t change anything. I love you, and I always will.”

His eyes sought mine in the low light of our bedroom. “You make everything worthwhile when you say that, Coralie. You know that, right?” I cuddled up against my husband’s hot body, still covered with a slight film of sweat from our last explosive union. “All I know is that I need you to shut up and kiss me.” He did exactly that. Like Devlin, I needed to fortify myself with our love so that I could tolerate seeing Caz Bixby again. As much as I had tried to avoid it, he had gotten inside my head. Every single time the executives had met over the past week, talking about Darcy’s new clothing line, discussing with her what kinds of tricks she used to make her clothes accommodate more than just one standard type of body, I couldn’t help but hear the echo of Caz’s words bounce off of the deepest parts of my brain where I had tried to bury them. “It’s only been a month and already he’s an executive, who is likely sliding his sister right into place. He probably even made it seem like it was your idea.” I watched my husband in our board meetings, carrying himself with authority, bringing a keen insight into marketing strategies, no doubt things he had learned at Stanford in their business program. He was compelling and commanding. No one questioned his right to be there, least of all me.

He deserved that chance, I decided. He had worked hard for it. His life hadn’t been easy. He had always done whatever was needed to survive. And from what I could tell, people actually thanked him for what he did for them. This included the ebony enchantress, who had came knocking on our door over the weekend for their first “training” session. Devlin surprised me by introducing me right away as his wife. It surprised Simone as well. There was some minor embarrassment as she admitted that she thought I was his sister, which he effectively refuted the minute he pulled me into his arms in front of her, cuddling me from behind as he buried his face along my neck. “If she’s my sister, then you should probably arrest me for all the things I’ve done to her for the past seven weeks.” “I’m sorry,” Simone apologized yet again. “I just never thought you were the kind of guy to settle down.” “Neither did I,” he admitted as he stared down at me with a love so potent, I was glad he was holding me up so I didn’t melt right to the floor. “Coralie was my game-changer.” The whole weekend was filled with romantic little moments like that. We had gone house hunting again, only this time we talked openly about what rooms we’d use as a nursery, or what schools were best for kids in the area. We were talking about a future far

beyond January 1st. It made me a little more confident as I waited for Caz to arrive that Wednesday evening. We decided to meet at my apartment after I got home from work, so that we could use the private gym we had on the premises. Meanwhile Dev headed straight to my father’s house to give Aubrey her first piano lesson. By the time Caz showed up, I was finally ready to face him for Round Two, where he would no doubt try to weasel into my psyche and plant more suspicion and doubt. He wore a pretty selfconfident smile when I opened the door. He also wore a suit and carried roses, along with a bottle of champagne. He entered the room with the swagger of a man who thought he had the upper hand. “I thought we were going to work out,” I stated as I closed the door behind him. “Oh, we will,” he said as he handed off the roses to me. “But there are several ways to do that, aren’t there, Mrs. Masters?” I took the roses into the kitchen to find a vase. He followed behind. “This is really some place you have here.” “Thank you,” I said in a clipped voice. I knew he was

circling something and, of course, he was. “You ever wonder how many women Devlin had to fuck to afford this place?” I sent him a severe side-eye glare. “It doesn’t matter how many women he fucked in the past. He’s only fucking me now.” Caz chuckled softly. “Oh, the many ways those words can be interpreted. So tell me. How did the hubby take the news when you told him about our deal?” “What makes you think I did?” He shrugged. “Because you’re a good girl. And a good wife. You’re going to give him a play-by-play of all our interactions because you still feel like you need to earn his trust.” I gave his outfit the once over. “I take it that you showed up tonight like we were on some kind of date just to undermine my efforts.” “Of course,” he admitted gleefully, with a self-satisfied smirk. “You’re paying $10,000 a week for my services. You might as well get what you paid for.” He walked towards me until he was practically shadowing me from behind. His voice lowered as he toyed with a tendril of my long hair. “Fucking, by the way, is definitely on the table. Just in case you were wondering.” I pulled away with a scowl. “I wasn’t.” That made Caz laugh too. “Let me guess. Good ol’ Dev

has fucked you so much and so well this past week, you’re too sore to even consider it. And you probably think that was an accident, too.” I turned to face him. “He fucked me often and well because that’s what we do.” “Right,” he agreed. “Like I said, you get what you pay for.” “You’re disgusting,” I snapped before I walked away from him. “But I’m right,” he said as he followed me. “And deep down, you know it.” “Deep down I know that you’re an opportunistic asshole who will do or say anything to get $250,000 you didn’t earn.” “Two for two,” he agreed again. “But at least I’m honest about it, which is more than I can say for your husband.” “My husband loves me.” “Your husband is incapable of loving anyone,” he informed me. I thought about Aileen and Darcy. The way Devlin loved his family invalidated anything this grifter said. “Project much?” “All the time,” he admitted with that same shit-eating grin. “But again, at least I’m honest about it.” He held up the bottle he still carried. “Got a glass?” With a sigh I walked to the bar, where I fetched one

champagne flute from the rack. He was endlessly amused as I handed it to him. “Not going to join me for a toast?” “Nope,” I replied. “No matter what you think, this is not a date. You were hired specifically to help me work out.” He nodded as he walked over to the sofa, where he plopped before he uncorked his bottle of champagne. “As you wish,” he said before he filled his glass. “You want to improve yourself. Who am I to stop you? Surprised you want to lose any weight though, after what happened with Suzanne.” I gritted my teeth. I knew this was still the same game he played. “What happened with Suzanne has nothing to do with me.” “Are you kidding?” he chortled. “Sweetheart, it has everything to do with you.” He patted the seat beside him on the sofa. “Come sit down next to me. Let Uncle Caz tell you the story.” I hesitated a long moment, staring at him from where I stood at the bar, my arms crossed over my chest. His gaze never wavered. “Come on, CC. Aren’t you just a teensy bit curious?” I tipped my chin. “Whatever happened with her I could find out from my husband.” “No, you can’t,” he corrected softly with a knowing smile. “Because your husband won’t tell you one damned thing.”

I could only pray he didn’t see how hard I gulped. “Like I told you before. I know Devlin a lot better than you do. I knew him way back in Vegas, when we both worked for Suzanne at the casino. I got to see the whole sordid thing go down.” He took a long sip of his bubbly drink before he settled back into the sofa. “At first, I thought he was insane to chase after her. She was the boss, after all. Plus she didn’t look at all like she does today. She was heavier, of course, much heavier than you,” he added as his gaze swept over me. I held myself tighter as a result. “But that was not what made her ugly. You could just tell there was something off about her. This one time,” he started as he made himself even more comfortable, “one of our cocktail waitresses ran afoul of the good Mrs. Everhart by getting a little too close to one of her boy toys. You have to understand that’s what we all were. Every single one of us. All of the men she hired looked like Dev or me, and we all belonged to her in some form or fashion. That’s what happens when someone starts filling your pockets with loads of cash and special gifts. It keeps you on the chain.” As much as I didn’t want to, I found myself drifting a little closer to the sofa. He went on with his story. “So we’d take it whenever she danced dangerously close to inappropriate behavior, like a lingering touch, or standing too close, or flirting. If she were a man and we were all women, the

ACLU would have taken her apart with a pair of rusty pliers. But because she’s a harmless, frustrated woman, who couldn’t even get her husband to look at her twice because he was chasing all the dancers and showgirls, no one ever thought anything about it. It gave her free reign to prey on all the men who depended on her for their livelihood. The really smart guys, like Dev, would never have reported it anyway. They’d just use it to their advantage. And that’s what he did.” I sat on the other end of the sofa. I knew I had landed on his web, but he had tapped into the one area where I was most vulnerable. I wanted to know about Devlin’s past, and I knew that I’d never get this kind of information from Devlin himself. “He flirted back. He was just as brazen. He stood a little too close. His touches lingered. Basically he saw an opportunity and he took it. He offered his services to get her into shape, much like I’m doing for you,” he added with a smile as he tipped me his glass, “and soon they were spending quite a bit of time outside of the casino. Rumors quickly followed that they were having an affair. He started dressing in nicer clothes. She started shedding the extra pounds. He tamed her southern hairdo and began to dress her in clothes that accentuated all her best qualities, Darcy’s designs of course. Meanwhile he kept living larger and larger. Sound familiar?” he asked before he took another sip.

I hated to admit that it did. Everything he was saying that Dev did for Suzanne, he had done for me as well. And as much as I wanted to discount what he was saying as yet another manipulative story, Suzanne was living proof. I had seen the before and after photos. And I knew that Devlin was responsible for her makeover. Even when he speaks the truth, he does it for a dishonest reason. “Get to the point, Caz.” “More men started to pay her attention, which she liked. But Dev didn’t like it. Not one little bit. And that’s where the story took a most dramatic turn. This poor clueless cocktail waitress from Utah wasn’t really trying to fuck up her entire life by flirting with the handsome Devlin, who flirted right back because he was tired of watching Suzanne parade her new pets right in front of his nose. Poor schmuck probably started to really believe he was special. It wasn’t his first mistake.” He exhaled deeply as he leaned back. “Yeah, Lydia merely wanted piano lessons, ironically enough, and good ol’ Dev was all too eager to provide them, rubbing it under Suzanne’s nose that he was spending all this time with another woman. Within a few weeks she was not only fired but arrested, when one of Suzanne’s big honking baubles was found in her locker. This chick was a fucking Mormon, for chrissakes. And she went down for grand larceny, simply because she got a little too

close to the boss lady’s favorite toy.” He let that suggestion linger for a bit. I didn’t say anything. “Lydia Dawson,” he finally said, to validate the story. “Look her up. Here,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll do it for you. You see, I’m not afraid of the truth. I’m not going to hide it from you, because I have nothing to lose. I’m not going to distract you with my skills in bed, keeping you high on orgasms so you can no longer think or question. I’m certainly not going to shove my dick in your mouth to keep you quiet.” He found the news item he was looking for, before he shoved the phone my direction. Indeed there was a story about a cocktail waitress named Lydia Dawson stealing a ten-thousand-dollar ring from her boss, Mrs. Suzanne Everhart. There were pictures to support the story, and I could see that Suzanne was still in the process of her transformation. She wore clothes I knew instantly were designed by Darcy. I checked the date. It was about three and a half years before. He took the phone back. “She didn’t want to just get even with Lydia. She wanted to make Devlin pay for what he had done. After she got rid of the competition, she paraded a brand new boy toy around under his nose, and there wasn’t one damned thing he could do about it.” My eyes narrowed. “Let me guess. You were the new

toy.” “What a smart girl you are,” he murmured. “So you must be smart enough to realize then that the hotter you get, the less he’s going to trust you.” “I’ll take my chances,” I snapped. My smoldering stare could have split his skull right in two. He appraised me thoughtfully. “Guess we better hit the gym then, Mrs. Masters. New Year’s Eve will be here before you know it.” “I’ve been ready for a half-hour.” He glanced down at his suit. “Oh yeah,” he said with a grin. He put his flute onto the table before he stood. He crossed the distance between us in two steps, before hovering over me with a different kind of smoldering glance all his own. I watched as he tugged free his tie, which snapped from around his neck before he trailed it across one of my wrists. My fists balled tightly, so he tossed the tie away. With that despicable smirk, he ran his hands up his sculpted chest until his fingers circled that top button. Slowly he released them, one at a time, revealing his sculpted bare chest underneath, which caught me off guard. His bold tattoos on both arms appeared to breathe thanks to his rippling muscles. He took off the shirt and tossed it onto the sofa next to me, before angling his pelvis towards my face. “Help me with my

pants?” he said as he held his hands out to the sides of his hips, like he was presenting me with pure gold. I practically breathed fire, but I didn’t move one muscle. “No? I guess I can do it then.” His strong fingers unfastened his dress slacks, slowly unzipping them. His slacks fell to the floor, revealing snug compression workout shorts that hugged his defined bulge proudly. As he stepped out of his pants, I realized that he still wore his dress shoes. “Looks like you forgot something,” I sneered. He chuckled as he kicked off his shoes. He reached for one sock. “I guess I’ll have to go bare. Do you mind?” I scowled at his innuendo. “You’re such a pig.” He leaned over me, backing me up against the cushion of the sofa, one arm on either side of me. “We’re all animals deep down, baby.” His gaze liberally drifted towards my mouth. “So what do you say? Wanna burn some calories, Mrs. Masters?” With a growl I scooted out from under his arm and rounded the other side of the sofa. He straightened with an even wider smile before he followed, trailing his laughter behind. Once we got to the gym, his demeanor changed. He wasn’t playful or seductive. He barked orders at me to get me moving. If I slowed down, he’d pop off with comments like, “Come on, girl! Get that ass in gear. You’re either going to show me I’m wrong in six months, or you’re going to show Devlin what he’s

missing. Show your dad,” he added, most evilly. “Show everybody! Give me that Fuck You Body, CC.” “I hate you,” I gritted between clenched teeth, but I didn’t stop. In fact, I worked harder. The sooner I got “in shape,” the sooner I could be rid of this obnoxious asshole. “Hate me all you want,” he shrugged. “I’m not the one you’re hurting by half-assing your life, sweetheart. Knees up!” After an hour and a half, I could barely move. He handed me my towel. “Not bad, Mrs. Masters. Not bad at all. You keep that up and even I’ll want to fuck you myself come New Year’s Eve.” I glowered at him. “Weren’t you the one trying to come onto me upstairs?” He towered over me, bracing against the machine with his arms as he stared down at me, making sure I was close enough to see each and every contour of his body. “Oh, I’d fuck you now. I fuck people I don’t want to fuck all the time.” He caressed another lock of my hair. “But if you’ve ever been fucked by someone who really wants to fuck you, then you know being wanted is better.” “I already know that,” I snapped. “I figured that out the first night I spent with Devlin.” We headed towards the elevator. “Ah, yes. Devlin. The

Master,” he added with a sneer. “Look at this joint, CC. Do you really think he could earn a place like this if he didn’t make every woman he fucked feel that way?” I held up my fist, showing my large wedding set. How I wished I could punch his hateful face with it. “Not every woman got that.” “Touché,” he grinned. He leaned against the wall of the elevator. “And I can guarantee you’re going to get nice and fucked tonight, so he can prove to you both what kind of manly man he is. So you’re welcome.” I rolled my eyes and said nothing. “Maybe you like it. Maybe this is part of the fantasy for you. Get him all worked up so he goes wild for you. That’s gotta spice things up a bit. How many orgasms can you attribute to me, CC? Really?” I wouldn’t even dignify that with a reaction. So he leaned closer. “Just be careful. If you’re still thinking babies, you should probably think again. It would be exceptionally stupid if you got knocked up at the stage of the game. It won’t change anything. By the new year, you will be alone.” I was just about to whip around and scream in his disgusting face when the elevator door opened to the fifteenth floor. I stalked the remaining twenty or so feet to my apartment. The door was unlocked, which meant Dev was home. I took a deep breath to

brace myself as I let us into the darkened apartment. I reached for a lamp, which cast a mellow light across the large living room. Devlin sat in one of the chairs, still in his suit from work, his shirt open at the collar, his tie long abandoned. He held a crystal decanter in one hand. It was once full of expensive Scotch, but he had all but drained it. I could smell it all the way across the room. He waited until we got a little closer before he said anything. I realized that Caz’s discarded suit was draped across the arm of his chair, with the shoes right on the floor next to him. It sent an involuntary shudder through me when I met Dev’s murderous gaze. His voice was every bit as malevolent. “Nice workout?” “Fabulous,” Caz grinned. “Your wife is quite… flexible. And that stamina. Wow.” He ran a hand down his glistening chest, along his skin tight shorts, near his pronounced package. Devlin’s cheek twitched as he tried to keep his composure. It only made Caz try that much harder to get under his skin. “But I’m sure I’m not telling you something you don’t already know.” I was afraid that Dev’s head might actually explode. I crossed over to him, where I reached for Caz’s clothes. Devlin circled my wrist in his fingers, tightening his grip without even looking at me. Instead he stared straight at Caz. “They’re his

clothes. Let Caz get them.” The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Caz approached, but slowly. I felt Dev coil, almost like a snake, the closer he got. He raised his other arm, which made Caz stop immediately, but all Dev did was take another swig of liquor from the decanter he held. His mouth curved slightly, as if he knew how unsettled the other man had become. Caz was no longer smiling as he reached forward, deliberately and cautiously, for his clothes. Devlin had him locked in that lethal glare, while he held onto my wrist with a white-knuckled grip. I could practically feel him twitch, in anticipation of any movement. Caz withdrew his clothes, but his tie trailed behind. He clearly debated whether or not it was worth a second brush with Devlin to retrieve it. Devlin wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “Don’t forget your tie, Casper,” he murmured. Another unspoken moment passed between them, like an electrical current. “Keep it,” Caz said. “I know how you like ties.” Dev’s hand gripped my wrist even harder. I knew he was doing everything he could not to fly up from that chair throttle him. Caz must have known it too, because his smile returned. “See you next week,” he said before he finally left. Dev waited until the door closed behind him, when he dropped the crystal decanter on the

floor, shattering it into worthless little bits. Only then did he let me go. I rubbed my sore wrist with my other hand, as if I had been released from a handcuff. Devlin took Caz’s tie into his hand, running his fingers over the expensive silk. He didn’t say anything, which made his anger even scarier. “Dev–” “Go to the bedroom and wait for me, Coralie,” he said, still without looking at me. Instead he stared at the tie. “Dev,” I started again, but was immediately silenced when those bright green eyes met mine. “Now.” It was such a softly issued command that it surprised me how authoritative it was. I nodded and hurried to the bedroom. I hopped into the shower, to wash away my workout, and all that implied. I slipped into a silky nightshirt before I returned to the bedroom, where I found Dev, who had stripped down to his trousers and bare feet. He was tying both his tie and Caz’s tie to either side of the top corners of the bed. “What are you doing?” “What does it look like?” I paused by the side of the bed. “It looks like you think you’re going to tie me to this bed.”

“I don’t think I’m going to tie you to the bed, Coralie,” he said. He turned to face me. “I know I am.” My stomach dropped. “I don’t think so.” He rounded the bed to approach me. “Why not? That’s what my good girl has always wanted, isn’t it? A walk on the wild side with an alpha male, who would take her in hand and make her submit.” He stood right in front of me. I could smell the booze on his breath. “A bad boy who would take all her choices away, so she doesn’t have to bear any responsibility for all her nastiest desires. You need the baddest of the bad for a job like that, darlin.’ Someone a little…,” he trailed off as he leaned even closer, “unpredictable.” I shivered in spite of myself. His fingers chased the goose bumps down my arm. “We didn’t cover everything in Vegas, did we? We left a few stones unturned. Let’s turn them over. You know nothing would turn you on more than to be tied to this bed, at my mercy.” Again I shivered. “Devlin.” “For the rest of the night, until I tell you otherwise, you will call me sir,” he instructed as his eyes met mine. It was a potent look that welcomed no argument. “Devlin,” I tried again, this time a little sharper. He responded by stepping closer.

“I said,” he repeated slowly, taking my chin in his hand, “you will call me sir.” My eyes widened as his mouth descended on mine. Despite the light bondage and submission he was suggesting, the kiss was positively gentle. He teased my mouth apart with his lips, probing my mouth just lightly enough to make me melt against him. And he knew what kind of power he had over me the minute I kissed him back. I was a junkie. And he was my fix. He wound his hand in my hair and pulled my head back so he could explore my neck. “That’s my girl,” he growled against my ear. He made quick work of my nightshirt, deftly unbuttoning each large button and revealing my naked skin underneath. I was a goner the minute his hands touched my body. Caz was right about one thing. There was nothing like being wanted. I could feel it in the desperate way Dev kissed me, practically choking me with his tongue. His hand curved down the arch of my spine, until he was cupping my ass in both hands and grinding me up against his hard body. “Show me how much you want this cock, baby,” he urged. “Tell me to tie you to this bed and fuck the shit out of you.” I shook my head. “I can’t.” “Can’t what?” he persisted. “Don’t you trust me, Coralie?”

“You know that’s not it.” He nuzzled my neck. “Isn’t it? If I tie you naked to this bed, you have to trust a dangerous man you barely know; you have to believe that I won’t hurt you. You’ll be totally helpless,” he added in a whisper. “Hands bound. Prone on a mattress, lying under a man who could fuck you however he wanted. You’re my toy. My play thing. And without your hands and your arms, you’d have no choice but to submit, no matter what I might demand of you. Masters’ choice,” he added even softer. I suspected he could feel the tremor that shot through my body at the thought. “Are you scared, Coralie? Are you scared about what I might want from you? Think about it. We haven’t known each other very long. You’d have to ask yourself what kind of man I am. What kind of man have I always shown to be?” His mouth hovered over my ear. “Do you trust me?” My eyes met his. Was that what this was all about? After walking in to find another man’s clothes strewn over our apartment, had he been overcome with concern that Caz had somehow gotten in? Caz–the very same man who had just admitted to sleeping with Suzanne in order to spite Dev. Was that why he was so possessive? Did he still have something to prove?

Or was he still waiting for something to be proven? “I trust you,” I told him. “Sir.” He groaned before he grabbed me for another kiss. “Tell me,” he begged. “Tie me to the bed. Please,” I added in a soft voice that made him sweep me up into his arms and deposit me onto the bed. He positioned me on my back before he wrapped one wrist in a silk tie, and then the other. He rose off of the bed momentarily, to take something out of the top drawer of the tall chest nearby. It was a blindfold. I cringed just a little as he crawled back onto the bed. “Don’t hold back now, baby,” he crooned as he got closer. “Trust the man you married.” I gulped hard as he wrapped the satin blindfold around my eyes, blacking out the room. I lay there, literally as helpless as he had predicted. My arms were bound above my head on either side and I couldn’t move my upper body unless it was to arch my back. I was fairly sure that would come in handy shortly. I felt the weight of his body shift off of the bed. Within minutes, music filtered throughout the bedroom. I didn’t know where he was in the room until he said, “Spread your legs, Coralie,” somewhere to the left of the bed, where, again, I heard a drawer open and close.

I swallowed hard. There was absolutely no way to know what might come next. My mouth was suddenly dry. “Shouldn’t we have a safe word or something? Sir,” I added nervously. “Good idea,” he murmured. “How about ‘Caz?’” I scowled. “Devlin.” I heard something snap in his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly.” I licked my lips. “Sir,” I finally whispered. “Good girl. Now spread your legs. Knees up. Nice and wide. I need to look at you.” I obeyed his command. The longer he made me wait, the more my legs shook. I couldn’t see anything. I sensed he was at the foot of the bed, but there was no way to tell for sure. Thanks to the blindfold and the music, two critical senses were compromised. Finally he spoke. “Unnerving, isn’t it? Lying there, spread eagle. Naked. Vulnerable. At the mercy of someone you know can do with you whatever he pleases. And that’s what you want. More than anything. Even though you hate yourself for wanting it. You’re biting that lip so that you won’t beg me to fuck you, but it’s all you can think about. You feel the air on that beautiful little pussy and all you want is to be stuffed with my cock.” A slight groan escaped my dry, parted lips. “Dev, please…,” I whimpered.

Again another loud smack, plastic or wood against flesh. “Who?” I relented at last. “Sir.” I felt him prop himself in between my legs. His large fingers spread me even wider before his hot breath covered me where I ached for him. He dove between my thighs and tormented me further with his mouth, lips and tongue. He raced me right to the edge and then he backed away, blowing cool air against me, chuckling as my hips rose to meet him. I felt him lean over me as his thumb circled around my clit, just on the outside, just on the fringe of bliss. “Tell me,” he said in that same firm, but quiet, voice. “Yours,” I eked out. He flicked me suddenly and swiftly across the engorged little nub, which made my hips buck against him. Again he took me right to the edge before his finger slipped down, circling my slit until I thought I might black out. I wanted him so much. “Tell me correctly.” My whole body was like a raw exposed nerve. I had never been as turned on. “Yours, sir,” I whimpered. He repeated all the same motions, practically sending me into orbit with his fingers. I growled in frustration as he denied my

climax for the third time. “Tell me what I want to hear, Coralie. Don’t make me ask again.” I shuddered hard against him. “Your pussy, sir,” I finally whispered. I nearly yelped as two of his fingers slipped inside and worked their magic, focusing that sweet sensitive spot until I came so powerfully I was almost glad I was wearing restraints. Otherwise I would have clawed holes in the sheets. When I thought I might black out from all the pleasure, I felt him ease one of our sex toys up inside me. The realistic dildo was large and veiny and unyielding, and it parted me open as he buried it as far up into me as it would go. He kept it there as he leaned back between my legs and sucked me off again, his tongue swirling around my clit until spasmed hard against him, clenching the toy deep inside while drenching the sheets beneath me. He scooted up my body until he was nuzzling my neck yet again. “And you were scared,” he chided. “When are you ever going to trust me, Coralie?” He began stroking the toy inside me. “When are you going to figure it out that no one knows you like I do? I’ll always know what you want. And I’ll always give it to you,” he whispered into my ear. I ground my hips against him. “Do it now,” I begged. “What’s the matter, baby?” he murmured against me.

“Don’t you like the sensation of a strange dick inside of you?” I shook my head. “I only want you, Dev–I mean… sir.” “A plus-plus,” he said as he removed my blindfold at last. “You may call me Dev, baby girl. You’ve earned it.” He kissed me hard as he continued to fuck me with the toy. I would have used my hands to push it away if I could. “Please, Dev. I want you,” I pleaded. He slammed the toy up inside me until I yelped. “Are you sure?” he whispered near my ear. He began pumping it inside of me until I was bucking back up against him. “A nice big cock. We’re all the same, aren’t we?” I thrashed beneath him. “No,” I cried out. “I want you! Only you!” He withdrew the toy and tossed it on the other side of the bed. He positioned himself between my legs, which he held apart, his hands on the backs of my knees. “Good. Because that’s all you’re ever going to get,” he promised before he slammed up inside of me. My toes curled as he bent me in half, sawing into me with powerful strokes. I didn’t need any coaxing to scream. My wrists pulled against the restraints, particularly when he latched his mouth onto one hard nipple. He nipped it between his teeth, driving me wild as he rode me hard. Finally he ripped away the blindfold. He panted as he

pinned me to the mattress with his weight. “Tell me you love me, Coralie,” he begged in a hoarse whisper as he enveloped me with his eyes. “I love you, Dev. Only you. Forever… you.” “God,” he groaned. “Baby.” He lost himself in me, fucking me hard and fast until he came with a loud grunt. He collapsed against me, trembling and out of breath. “You were right to be scared, Coralie,” he murmured as he stared at my mouth. “You wanted a bad boy and you found one. You have no idea some of the things I have done. Of some of the things I’ve been capable of doing.” “I don’t care about your past, Devlin,” I swore. “Liar,” he accused softly. I sighed. “Dev.” “Whether I share with you my past or promise you my future, it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference. I lose myself when I’m with you. That’s just what love does to me. I thought I felt this way before, but I had no idea what it meant until I touched you. Even that first night,” he said as he caressed my face in one hand. “I suspected that you could be my salvation every bit as much as my damnation. Like a full flask of water, or one drop of poison. Yet all I want is to consume you.” I wished my arms were free so that I could hold him. “And

I just want to love you,” I said softly. His hand gently cupped my bare breast. “Nobody loves me better than you, Coralie Masters.” He bent for another kiss. I felt the silk loosen around one wrist and then the other. He gathered me into a powerful hug, where I did feel consumed by every part of him. I wasn’t scared at all. It felt like home. I held him tight in my arms the rest of the night.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Lucy got home from her honeymoon that following Sunday, and it couldn’t come quickly enough. I knew she was juggling a thousand new things thanks to her new marriage, her new pregnancy, as well as moving into their new house in Brentwood, something they snatched up when a famous late actress’s estate put it up for sale. The open ranch styled house sat on nearly an acre in the winding hills between the Getty and Will Rogers State Park, and that was where they were returning when they got back from Hawaii. That meant they were busy setting up their new house, their forever home, when I arrived that Sunday afternoon to welcome them home. Boxes were piled everywhere. There was a lot to get done. Normally I would have jumped right in to help her, but I couldn’t wait to get her alone, to tell her everything that had been going on, so that she could talk me down from the ledge. Since Dev had taken the weekend to drive Darcy back home to Vegas, and see his mother, I decided to pounce on Lucy at the earliest opportunity. It simply couldn’t wait. I spilled my sordid tale while we unpacked dozens of books into built-in shelves in her large office. She poured me some

fresh lemonade, her first real pregnancy craving, before heaving an impotent sigh. “Why do you even want to deal with this guy, Ceece? Sounds like a slimeball.” “He is,” I agreed. “But what choice do I have? If I cut him loose now, he’ll just run tattling to Father. We can’t afford that right now. We just got the deal going with Darcy. Too many people would be affected.” “Stop throwing yourself on every grenade, CC. Jesus.” “What would you do?” I challenged. “Honestly, I’d call his bluff. This Caz guy has a lot at stake, too. He can’t really rat out Devlin without blowing his own cover. You think he wants to blow his ride with people like Margot or Suzanne?” “That thing is over with Suzanne,” I dismissed. “Oh, right. You left the party early.” My eyes shot to hers. “What does that mean?” “They were practically crawling all over themselves at the reception. I mean it was some stupid line dance or something so it wasn’t anything overt, but they were pretty cozy on the crowded dance floor. She wasn’t moping in her champagne that Dev had gone.” It was my turn to sigh. “I just don’t get it.” “It’s like you said. Suzanne likes to keep her pets on a

chain. She lost Dev. She’s not going to lose Caz, too. I bet you they have way more to lose by being exposed than you and Dev ever will. All it takes is one person to pull the thread and unravel them. Show them you’re that person. Tell them if they dare breathe a word about Devlin’s past, you’ll make sure everyone knows what part they play in it. That might be bad news for Mrs. Everhart,” she pointed out before she referred to her phone, pulling up a news website that reported Harvey Everhart, the representative from the great state of Nevada, and older, billionaire husband to Suzanne, had thrown his hat in the ring to run for president. Given his wellknown reputation for business, as well as the fact he was practically a celebrity brand all his own, he was already gaining some ground among some of his better known contemporaries. This was despite his iffy personal history of several failed marriages and owning and running a casino. “My mother called me while I was on my honeymoon to tell me. Apparently it was a bit of a coup that we invited her to the wedding, where the murmuring about this grew into a roar.” With a few swipes of her finger, Lucy found an article that mentioned her wedding specifically. “Mother was beside herself. For her, it made all the craziness of her big wedding worth it.” Lucy rolled her eyes to demonstrate how she felt about it. “Everyone from my parents to your father is hot for this guy to win. Who do you think a scandal will hurt worse?”

As always, Lucy gave me much needed perspective. Here we were acting like scared little mice when we were the ones who held all the aces. The fact that they worked so hard to make us think we didn’t was proof enough of that. Of course Caz was going to try and get into my head. That’s all he could do. He’d get into my head and then I’d fuck everything up out of doubt and insecurity, destroying us from the inside. Fuck that. That afternoon, when I left Lucy’s, I texted him saying that I thought we should meet. And of course, he texted me right back, with his home address, a place right on the beach in Santa Monica. I knew the minute I drove up to it that he didn’t pay for that place with what he earned. He was a kept man. This house was right on the water, worth at least ten million dollars, spotless and meticulously designed, a modern little multi-level beach house that had full views of the ocean on all three floors. I knew how much his hourly rate was. He’d have to be working non-stop to pay this kind of bill. He certainly wouldn’t have any time to fuck with me, like making me wait five minutes as I knocked on his door. Finally I texted him to let him know I’d arrived.

Minutes later he opened the door dressed only in a towel. He was wet, but using another large towel to dry himself. “Why, Mrs. Masters. What a pleasant surprise for a Sunday afternoon. Want to join me in the hot tub? No suit, no problem,” he grinned as he started to loosen the towel around his hips. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said as I brushed past him and into the house. “We have an important matter to discuss.” He sauntered behind me towards the living room. “And what’s that?” I turned to face him. “I’m not going to need your services anymore. And I’m not paying you one thin dime for anything we’ve done so far, because it’s all been manipulative bullshit. The game is over, Caz.” He popped an apple out of the fruit bowel on the coffee table before he sat in an oversized chair, draping his leg over one of the arms. “Is that so?” “That’s so,” I nodded. He took a bite out of the apple. “And does your other half know that you’re here, negotiating these new terms?” “He will,” I told him as I tipped my chin. “But whether he agrees or not, this ends today. Not one more date. Not one more minute. Nothing.” “Sorry you feel that way,” he mumbled with his mouth full.

“I really had hoped it wouldn’t come down to this.” “Down to what?” I challenged. “You think you’re going to just run off and tell my father how Dev and I met? Just what do you think one of Suzanne’s biggest campaign contributors is going to say when he learns she was fucking Dev first? My father is quite conventional. That kind of thing could shade his opinion of her. It could shade most of the party’s opinion of her, including the people who have the money and the means to help her husband win this election. And what do you know? I happen to know dozens of them.” He chuckled softly as I finished. “Look at you,” he murmured before taking another bite. “From a pussycat to a lion in a single week. Did I do that? I feel like I did that.” “You didn’t do anything but piss me off,” I gritted between clenched teeth. “Looks like it was enough,” he said. “You know, I don’t know what changed, but I like it. You’re going to need that kind of moxie for what’s coming.” He looked me over, concentrating on my belly. “That’s particularly true if you still want to get pregnant.” He took another bite of his apple. “I, personally, would advise against it. Single parenthood is so tough on the children.” “Didn’t you hear what I said? You don’t have anything. Yeah, you can’t make things a little more complicated for me and

for Dev. But if you dare out him to my Father, I’m outing Suzanne to everyone. And I’m pretty sure that I can find a lot more dirt on her than she could ever find on me. Who pays for your beach house, Caz? I’m just curious.” He ambled once again to his feet. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Coralie,” he warned with that annoying smile. “You really think you can go up against Suzanne and win?” “My name is Coralie Fucking Masters. I already won,” I informed him before I turned to leave. He called to me as I reached the door. “Oh, Mrs. Masters?” I debated for a long moment before I turned around. “The offer still stands to fuck me on New Year’s Eve. After today, I actually kind of look forward to it,” he grinned before he dropped his towel, revealing his naked body and his growing erection, sized extra large. I guess I knew now why Suzanne had kept him around. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever sleep with the likes of you,” I spat. He chuckled. “Yeah. I’ve heard that before. They all still fucked me anyway. Shall I pencil you in?” I answered his stupid rhetorical question by slamming out of his house. I was still feeling pretty proud of myself when I arrived at

the apartment that night. I carried bags of groceries, because I wanted to celebrate with my man. I had dinner prepared by the time he arrived that evening. He brought me more roses. “Hey, beautiful,” he grinned before he kissed me. “God, I missed you. I don’t think Vegas will ever be the same without you.” “Ditto,” I said as I cuddled close to him. Now that we didn’t have the threat of Caz or Suzanne hanging over our heads, I could totally enjoy us for a change. “Now sit down. I’ve made dinner. I think you’re going to like it.” He simply smiled. “My beautiful wife has prepared me a meal. What’s not to like?” I produced a couple of plates of chicken cordon bleu, which I had baked for us as a special treat. We’d been so good for so long, and it wasn’t like I had a personal trainer anymore. Of course, Devlin didn’t know that. Not yet. He dug into the first sumptuous bite with a delighted roll of his eyes. “This is delicious, baby. Where’s you learn to do this?” I grinned. “Châlons-en-Champagne, of course. I told you about our old caretakers, Henri and Jean-Luc. Wonderful old gay couple,” I grinned. “They know all about beauty and love and food. No one can put it all together like they can. I can’t wait to take you there.” “I can’t wait to go,” he murmured softly as he took another

bite. “Since our daughter will be conceived there in,” he referred to his watch, “a little over three weeks.” I beamed instantly. With my period starting just days before, everything was right on schedule. Happy little tingles ran through my body whenever I thought about what we were about to do. “Don’t you mean our son?” “We’ll have a son,” he agreed. “But later. I want our daughter to come first. Girls should always come first,” he winked. He took another bite. “You outdid yourself, darlin.’ But you better not tell Caz you’re eating something like this. He’ll probably want to add another day or two to your bogus training routine.” I took a long sip of wine. “Caz isn’t going to be a problem anymore.” His brow arched. “No?” I shook my head. “No.” “What makes you say that?” I shrugged. “I took care of it.” It only puzzled him more, and Devlin Masters did not like being puzzled. He put down his fork slowly and sat back in his chair. “What do you mean, ‘you took care of it?’” “I mean I took care of it. I told him that we weren’t going to keep up with these ridiculous training sessions and I wasn’t going to pay him, regardless of what happened on New Year’s Eve.”

“Or…?” “Or what?” He sighed. “He’s not just going to disappear, Coralie. You had to leverage something.” He looked me over. “What did you barter?” “Please,” I dismissed. “That’s never going to happen.” “Never say never,” he warned softly. I knew he was thinking about Suzanne. But that wasn’t me. Ever. “If you must know, I told him that if he dares to breathe a word to father, I’d expose Suzanne Everhart to the media for the kind of person she really is.” “You what?!” he exploded as he shot up out of his chair. “Why the fuck would you do something like that, Coralie?” As confident as I had felt before, I felt less confident now. “Because they were bluffing, Dev. They can’t out you without outing themselves. Suzanne’s husband is running for president, and he’s actually got a shot at it. There is no way they’re going to risk a scandal.” Devlin kept pacing. “Jesus Christ, Coralie. Why didn’t you ask me about this before you did it?” “You were out of town. And I wanted it over with. I’m tired of playing these games, Devlin. They’re stupid.” He swung around to face me. “You have no idea what kind

of people they are. They’re not just playing the game. They invented it.” “You can’t go around being afraid of these people for the rest of your life, Devlin.” “Fuck you!” he exploded yet again. I was instantly taken aback. “I’m not afraid of anyone!” He paced even more. “I just… I just need to think.” I rose from my chair. “Devlin, if you just calm down you would see that it’s not that bad.” “You don’t know anything, CC,” he muttered, using my initials instead of my name. Though most people had always done so, I found that it hurt whenever Devlin did it. “Then tell me. You can’t keep getting mad at me for not knowing stuff you won’t tell me. It’s not fair.” “Fair,” he chuckled, humorlessly. “Fair. Fucking fair!” His face pulled into a grimace as he reared back and punched one of the living room walls. His strong fist crashed easily through plywood, leaving a gaping hole behind. I was in shock as I stared at him. He was as out of control as I’d ever seen him. “What’s really going on, Dev?” His face was ravaged as he turned back to me. “Why is it so goddamned hard for you to trust me, Coralie? Why?” He approached me, looming over me, dark as a thunderstorm about to

erupt in our living room. He grabbed my face in both hands. “I had it all planned. All you had to do was just do what I asked you to do. That was it. We could have been golden.” “No, we couldn’t. They were always going to try to screw us over, Dev. Always. I did this for us.” “But that’s just it. There is no us if they…,” he trailed off, his hands gripping my hair as he fought to continue. “If they have their way, it’s over for us for good. All you had to do was trust me. That’s it. Why couldn’t you do that?” “Because I’m tired of people controlling my life! You don’t know how hard it’s been to just sit in his trap while he tried his best to fuck with me. He came onto me. He pushed the limit. Just like you said. I had to quietly take it all as I listened to every stupid story he told, and then fight against the doubt that naturally follows. Maybe he is lying out his ass, but it sounds like the truth. Do you know how hard all that is to separate, Dev? I love you. And I want to trust you. But–” I started but he simply pulled my hair even more. “But?” he echoed. “But what, Coralie? I’ve done everything for you. Everything.” “Everything except tell me what the hell is going on. You can’t let me in, Dev. You won’t let me see. Do you know how confusing it was that Caz is the one doing that? He was the one who told me about Suzanne and Vegas and Lydia.”

Dev thrust me away the minute he heard Lydia’s name, turning his back on me completely, and virtually proving everything that Caz had told me was true. Everything about his behavior was unexpected, as though I had done something wrong, something treasonous, just because I threatened Suzanne. “It’s almost like you need to protect Suzanne Everhart more than your own wife.” He turned one last time to face me. “I do.” I backed up a step, my gasp exploding in my own ears as Dev grabbed his keys and slammed out of the apartment.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Devlin didn’t return home the rest of that night. I ended up throwing away most of our uneaten food, and drinking two full bottles of wine just to calm my nerves. I had seen a whole new side of my husband that night, and I didn’t like it. I sure as hell knew I couldn’t trust it. He was volatile, his mood darkening–and becoming violent–with little provocation. I was almost glad he didn’t return that night. I wasn’t yet ready to face him. I was sorely tempted to return home to Petit Paradis. Going home to Father, I thought. If I did that, Caz and Suzanne had actually succeeded in what they set out to do. It was the only thing that kept me in the luxury apartment that had never felt like my home. The next day I dressed for work alone. Dev hadn’t come home all night, but why would he? This was just what he did. He’d get mad, storm off, and punish me with his absence. He probably knew down deep how many bad thoughts I entertained when he was away. And he was content to let me suffer. He had a higher priority. Suzanne Everhart.

You can imagine my surprise when I found that despicable cunt sitting in his office when I arrived to work the next morning. Actually I was more surprised to find that his door was locked when I arrived. When he finally opened it, after I knocked for a solid minute straight, I found Suzanne curled like a kitten in the plush chair across from his desk. In a flash I remembered how he had swept all the things off my desk and laid me out to pleasure me during office hours. I could easily picture him doing the same to this older cougar with her selfsatisfied smile. In that moment, I hated her worse than I had ever hated anyone. I looked up at Dev, who braced himself between us. He was still protecting Suzanne. “Can we talk for a moment?” I asked. His eyes were stormy. “Don’t be rude, Coralie. I have an important visitor. You remember Suzanne Everhart.” I slid a cool glance her way. “Of course.” She didn’t bother standing. And she didn’t stop smiling either. “So good to see you again, dear. I don’t know whether to thank you for sharing your husband with me, or apologize for all those late nights we’ll be sharing.” She chuckled, as if she’d told a joke, but the look in her eyes was pointed. I glanced back up at Dev, who filled in the

blanks. “They’re preparing to hit the campaign trail. Suzanne came to Cabot’s for a complete makeover. Since we’d worked together before, your father insisted that I assist Suzanne personally.” “How fun for you,” I murmured towards the victorious blonde sitting in my husband’s office. “I’m in the best hands,” she agreed sweetly. “You should know,” I sneered before Devlin eased me back out of the office. “We really are right in the middle of something, CC,” he said, using my damnable initials again. “It’s going to be a crazy day. I’ll see you later tonight. We’ll talk when we get home.” My eyebrow arched. “Will we?” I said softly. I turned back to Suzanne. “It was … a unique pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Everhart.” “Please,” she purred. “Call me Suzanne.” “Of course,” I said, mimicking her tone. I glanced down to the expensive rings on her fingers. “You know, you might want to wear costume jewelry for the campaign trail,” I cautioned. “Expensive jewelry has a way of walking off when you least expect it. It’s always important to guard your prized possessions from those who might want to steal them. Suzanne,” I added before I slammed out of Dev’s office. I bumped into Oliver on the way to Father’s office. He

wore a triumphant smile, one that immediately made me want to punch him right in the face. “Please. I’m in no mood.” Unfortunately Father was just as ecstatic as Oliver. “Isn’t it great news, CC? We could be dressing the future First Lady of the United States.” I snorted over the term. If there was one word I was certain didn’t fit Suzanne Everhart, it was ‘lady.’ And yet now it was the job of her former gigolo to turn her into one of the most important women in the country. And I could tell Father that. It would change everything. He’d remove Devlin from the company, sure. But he’d also cut all ties with people like Suzanne and Caz, who was still posturing as Margot’s current boyfriend throughout all the summer social events on her calendar. I could get my life back. But I sensed that it would be a life without Devlin, so I kept my mouth shut. “Don’t worry,” Father soothed. “They’ll be done in time for you to go to the chateau in a couple of weeks. He’ll probably need the vacation,” he snickered to himself. “That Suzanne is a handful.” I could barely choke down any reply.

“At least he doesn’t have as much work to do with her like a fixer-upper like me, huh, Dad?” Father ignored my cutting remark. “Apples and oranges, Coralie. She could influence policy. And she has some really good ideas,” he added as he sat back in her desk. “We’ve spoken quite a bit in the last few weeks. I really like what she and Harvey stand for. Taking our country back to more traditional values.” Again, my contempt nearly strangled me. “We’re going to be actively raising funds and gaining interest for Harvey’s campaign over the next few months.” “We?” I echoed. “The Lyons and the Cabots, of course. Many of our influential friends, really. There will be the first of such dinners at the club on Friday. I insist that you and Devlin join us.” “Wild horses couldn’t keep us away,” I sneered, because I suspected it was true. “Oliver, you should take CC to look at the clothes we’ve created with Darcy.” He turned to me. “She is an extraordinary talent, that one. Real damned lucky you married her brother so we could get first crack at her.” I nodded. “Real lucky,” I murmured. “Pity Devlin never worked his magic on her. She’ll need a makeover of her own if she’s going to be the face of our new

clothing line. But there’s time for that,” he decided with a wave of his hand. “After you get back in September, you can tend to that personally. Your own special project. Show her what you’ve learned.” Gee, thanks, Dad. Obediently I followed Oliver to his office, where he had preliminary drawings of several outfits just ready to be completed. “Your father was thinking that since the press was going to be huge around this event, we should introduce Darcy’s designs there first. You look great,” he said as he appraised me brazenly. “People are really going to respond well to the change. It’s a boon for both the Everharts and Cabot’s itself.” Yep, I thought to myself. For several thousand dollars, anyone could hire a gigolo and turn into a woman fit to walk a runway. Just ask Suzanne. Just look at me. “I owe you an apology, Ceece,” he said, employing Lucy’s pet name for me. “I didn’t realize what you were trying to do until I saw Darcy do it. She and Devlin were smart. They brought in models of all sizes and shapes. Each one looked like a superstar. I compared it to that hideous dress you had to wear for Lucy’s wedding and it was clear as day that we’ve dropped the ball for far too long. We’re missing an entire market and billions of dollars.”

I glared at him. “Nine billion in 2014. I tried to tell you that,” I reminded. “I tried to tell Father that, too.” He straightened to look at me directly. “I know. And he knows. And we’re trying to fix it, CC.” I sighed. As much as he had promised to be a problem at the start of my marriage with Devlin, he had quietly resigned himself to the fact that he would never marry into the family, and likely never be CEO. That would likely default to Devlin now, since Devlin was the only one that Father and Oliver would listen to. If this new clothing line took off like they seemed to expect that it would, it was Dev’s golden ticket. I could change that, too. But it would cost me what I wanted most. More than a Cabot, I was a Masters now. For life. “Thank you, Oliver,” I finally said. No matter who earned the ‘gold star’ as Devlin had put it, it was important what we were doing. Not just for me, but for every woman who walked through our doors. We could either stay part of the problem, or we could be part of the solution. Thanks to Devlin, and Darcy, we could change the conversation on the standard of feminine beauty. That mattered way more than my pride. And clearly Devlin did know how to get things done. I had been in the fight for ten years with no results. Devlin showed up mere weeks ago and the ball was definitely rolling.

“Since Devlin is going to be busy with Suzanne all day, how about I take you to lunch?” Off my look, he clarified, “As a friend.” I sighed. With everything going on, I could really use a friend. “Thai?” I asked. He smiled. “I know the perfect place.” I was resigned to my afternoon when I got to my office, where Simon warned me before I walked in that I had a guest. Of course it was Caz Bixby. Who else could it have been? I slammed the door behind me. “What do you want?” He sprawled comfortably in the chair in front of my desk. “I just came by to schedule your workout session this week. It’s important not to miss one, especially since you’re going out of the country for a month.” “I’m not spending one more minute with you that I have to,” I spat. “Which reminds me. Get out!” He chuckled but didn’t move one inch. “It’s so cute when you try to be powerful. Roar for me again, pussycat. It makes me hard.” “God, you’re disgusting,” I muttered as I walked around my desk to grab my phone to call security. He was on his feet in an instant, slamming down the button and ending the call. “You still don’t get it, do you? There is no choice in the

matter here. This is happening. You’re stuck with me. I keep you occupied while Devlin keeps Suzanne happy. That’s how it works. Who do you think was distracting Lydia while Dev planted that ring in her locker?” “Dev would never do that.” “Never is a short time around Suzanne,” he told me with a grin. “She looks for that never. She wants to toy with that never. You tell her you’ll never do something, and guess what she’s going to make you do? Even your precious Dev.” I shook my head. “I don’t believe you.” He rounded the desk to face me. “No? Would you believe me if I told you that even good ol’ Dev found himself bound with ties because she wanted it? He even let another guy suck him off because she wanted it.” I braced my hands against his chest to push him away, but he kept getting closer. “She wanted to see him fucked. Conquered. Emasculated. And oh how close he came to letting her do just that. I know. Because I was there.” He bent closer, until his breath was against my neck. “I had my big fat cock right there at his tight little virgin asshole, ready to penetrate him. Ready to fuck him.” “No wonder he hates you!” I spat. He chuckled. “You have no idea, baby. Finally he did what

you did. He said no. He tore himself out of those restraints just like a gorilla, and then told Suzanne to go fuck herself. He tried to take control. He tried to hold onto his ‘never.’” Those hazel eyes drilled into mine. He knew he had me right where he wanted me. “She didn’t just drop him like a stone. No. That would have been too easy. She dismantled him. Not only did she fire him, but made it impossible for him to get another job anywhere else paying anything over minimum wage. She was his previous boss. She could do that. She held the cards in Las Vegas, literally, so she could dry up his income with the snap of a finger.” It made me think of the day Devlin told me this story. How angry he had been. Now I could see why. “You’d think she was done, but no. She had to make him pay for choosing anyone else but her. She had him kicked out of the apartment she had rented for him, just so she could always have a place to fuck him. Like my place at the beach,” he added as he backed me even further against the desk, practically bending me over. “What she did to Darcy, though. That was simply icing on her cake. Suzanne had her all lined up with a department store, like she is now, but when Devlin made his stand, she dropped her new BFF without an ounce of remorse. No word. No contact. She simply found someone else to use instead. Someone pretty. Someone confident. That poor fat whale didn’t even know what hit her,” he

finished as he finally laid me against the desk. His hand immediately cupped my breast. I pushed at him with my hands. “Get off of me!” His hands slid down my body. “Oh, no, no no. I think we need to find your never. Let’s fuck,” he suggested with a detestable smirk. “Never!” He chuckled. “And there it is.” His mouth landed on mine. I struggled beneath him, but it only seemed to excite him more. I started to scream, which he silenced by shoving his tongue even further into my mouth. “Come on, CC,” he cajoled. “What do you think they’re doing in Devlin’s office down the hall?” I fought against him even stronger, practically kicking him off of me. When I shot up off the desk, I finally punched his arrogant face, splitting his lip on my big peridot engagement ring. “Don’t you ever touch me again!” He smiled as he wiped the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He stepped forward swiftly, twisting my arm behind my back. “I’ll let you have that one, because you’re understandably upset. But if you hit me again, pussycat, there will be consequences. Bondage and discipline are sort of my specialties. Ask Devlin,” he added in a sadistic whisper, before he planted a kiss on my nose

and set me free. He sauntered easily towards the door of my office. “See you Wednesday.” I was still shaking when Simon entered minutes later, just to see what the hell was going on. “What was that about?” “He’s my trainer,” I snarled. “Setting up another appointment.” Simon stared after the gorgeous, but deadly, Caz Bixby with open appreciation. “He could train me anytime.” “You can have him,” I snapped before I turned back to my computer. “I hear he’s a pro with bondage and discipline.” Simon winked. “Remind me to stock up on my leather.” I let the subject drop as I tried to focus on my work. I had finally managed to calm down by the time Oliver showed up for lunch. He drove me to a restaurant in Hollywood, where we shared some Pad Thai. He studied me thoughtfully as we waited for our order. Finally I could stand it no longer. “What?” “I was just thinking how pretty you look. You’ve literally blossomed over the past few weeks.” Funny, since I felt like I was falling apart. “I guess it wasn’t my glass slipper that would turn you into a princess,” he said as he took a sip of his tea. “Maybe it could have been, had you bothered trying to make it fit.” But even as I said the words, I knew it wasn’t the truth.

Now that I had been with Devlin, I knew who I had been born to love. Oliver knew it too. “No,” he decided quietly, wisely. “It couldn’t. My loss,” he added as he toasted me. I sighed. “If I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?” He paused for the briefest of moments before he nodded. “Did you and Father plan to break Dev and me apart?” He seemed taken aback by the direct nature of my question. It took him another moment to answer. “At first,” he finally admitted. “It was a calculated risk. At best, Devlin would fall flat on his face and you’d wisely decide to end the marriage. At worst, he’d actually prove he could do the job, which benefits the company first and foremost, even if it interferes with our plans. There wasn’t that much of a downside. Let’s be honest. Devlin was made for this life. He knows what he’s doing. We’re poised to make more money than we’ve ever made in the history of our company, just by making this one little change. I hate to say it but he’s earned his place at Cabot’s.” I softened as I watched him resign himself to that fate. “What does that mean for you, Oliver?” He shrugged. “I’ll keep working for Cabot’s until I’m stolen away by a headhunter for the competitor.” We both laughed.

Finally he sighed. “I don’t know. I love Cabot’s. I love your father. I love your whole family. Even you,” he added. “We’re family, CC.” I reached across the table for his hand. He took it and held it tight. After everything, it was reassuring to know I had some friends, particularly at Cabot’s, which would prove to be a minefield for the next several months we had to endure Suzanne Everhart. When I said as much to Oliver, he surprised me by agreeing. “Yeah. She’s a first class cunt,” he decided, which shocked the shit out of me. He was never that crude. Off my look, he explained. “She’s ruthless. You can smell it all over her. She doesn’t just want to win. She needs everyone else to lose. It’s like a monster she needs to feed. I can only imagine what her husband’s campaign is going to do to the competition. If I were Charles, I wouldn’t get anywhere near it. But…he’s driven by his own motives.” “Like what?” “Look at him, CC. He’s not going to live forever. The sun is setting, and he just wants to enjoy the beauty of it. He thinks that people like Harvey Everhart can make that happen. He wants to return to yesteryear, because that is where life was the happiest and

most beautiful for him. Where it made sense. Tradition screwed him over, but he can’t seem to let go of the dream.” I nodded. I understood that. Father had believed in the sanctity of true love and of family, and did everything right to secure his happily ever after. When circumstances flipped the script, he felt betrayed. It was a bitterness that he never quite lost. It was why he hated anything that deviated from the norm. He resented anything and anyone who could make the alternatives work, because his beloved tradition, and doing things the ‘right’ way, hadn’t always worked out for him. “Hopefully he’ll figure her out before it’s too late,” I mumbled as I reached for a wonton. “I’d hate to watch Cabot’s sink with her. But I guess it’s like they say. No such thing as bad publicity. Even if she crashes and burns, which I think she will eventually, our brand will still get out there. Considering what we’re going to launch this fall, we could really use the press.” “How strategic,” I commented. “We’re business people, CC. That’s how we have to be.” I had plenty of time to contemplate that for the rest of the day. Suzanne and Dev were nowhere to be found when I got back to the office, and he didn’t come home right away. I sat in front of the dinner I had made, staring at it without blinking, until it turned cold and inedible on the plate. For the second time in two nights, I

dumped two full plates of food in the garbage. I curled up on the sofa, mindlessly watching whatever passed for TV these days, unable to wonder where Dev was and what he was doing–if Suzanne was testing his never. Caz’s story rattled around in my brain over and over again. Every single time I pictured Devlin bound by ties, at the mercy of sadistic sexual deviants who just wanted to see how far they could push someone, my stomach turned. No wonder he had so many unbreakable rules. He had earned the right to make them. The story could simply be bullshit too, something Caz said just to needle Dev again, knowing I’d run back to him and ask him about such a story, which would surely send Devlin into another rage. I stared at the wall where he had punched a large hole with his bare fist. I didn’t want to see Devlin any angrier than that. Ever. I heard the key turn in the door across the room. I held my breath as it swung open and shut, and then the keys jangled as they landed inside the little bowl by the door. I didn’t turn around, and he didn’t say anything. But I could tell from his footfalls that he had walked to the bar. I could hear as he placed a glass on the counter, and then filled it slowly with one cube of ice at a time. I heard the sound of a crystal stopper landing on the counter, before liquid

poured into a glass. I don’t think I breathed as the stopper was placed back into the decanter and the bottle put back onto its tray. The sound of his shoes against the tile floor echoed throughout the room as he approached. I felt my whole body tremble as he stopped just behind the sofa. I could feel the heat of his body. I could hear the ice settle in his glass. I could smell the bourbon. The TV droned on, but all I could hear thunder in my ears was my very own heartbeat as I waited for him to do something. Anything. Finally he walked around the sofa, crossed in front of the coffee table and sat on the other end. I felt his eyes on me before I ever turned to face him. “You’re late.” “I had a lot of damage to repair,” he replied softly, his eyes locked with mine. “Do I get to know exactly how you did that?” His answer was soft. Firm. Defiant. “No.” I scoffed before I shot up off of the sofa. He spoke a little louder when he commanded, “Coralie, get back here.” “Fuck you,” I spit over one shoulder before I stomped to the bedroom. I didn’t stop until I reached the closet, where I pulled out a suitcase. I had just turned back to the closet when I saw him

fill the door frame. He put his drink on top of the tall chest of drawers. He was frighteningly calm. “What are you doing?” “I’m leaving,” I gritted between clenched teeth before I walked into the closet to grab an armful of my clothes. He had taken off his jacket by the time I reemerged. “Stop packing, Coralie. You’re not going anywhere.” “Who’s going to stop me?” I demanded to know as I stomped past him to dump clothes into the suitcase. I turned around back into his massive chest. “Your husband.” I shook my head. “You lost that right the minute you chose Suzanne Everhart over me, pal.” I took two steps before he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back against him. “Everything I’m doing, I’m doing for us. Why is that so hard for you to believe?” “Because you won’t tell me anything. I have to hear it all from that hateful asshole, Caz. And worst of all, he knows that. He can’t wait to tell me something sordid from your past, just so he can drive that wedge just a little bit deeper.” “There’s only a wedge there if you want there to be,” he said. “You could just believe what you knew about me, and what you felt about me the day you promised your very life to me, to love

me forever, through the good times and bad.” He pulled me closer. “My past was nothing but bad stuff, Coralie. I’m not going to tarnish our future with it. Not when we’re so close to having everything we want.” “And what do you want, Devlin? Some obedient little wife who will look the other way while you seduce other women?” I spat as I pushed against his chest, where he locked me in his embrace. “Did you fuck her, Devlin?” He cupped my face in his hand. “What do you think, Coralie?” “I don’t know what to think,” I finally admitted, cursing the tears that sprang in my eyes. “Then don’t think,” he murmured as he bent to kiss me. “Believe.” I fought against him, but it was pointless. I wanted to be in his arms. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him in any way I could get him. He was oxygen to my lungs, and had been since he first touched me. He used one hand to pull the open suitcase off onto the floor before he laid us down on the mattress. His hands were on my body. His mouth covered my lips. But all I could see were the pictures that Caz had planted. I pulled away and sat up. “This can’t be your answer to everything, Dev. We have real problems. We can either work them out together, or

we should just stop wasting our time.” Despite my brave words, I prayed he’d fight even harder for me. Instead his voice was soft, hurt. “Is that how you really feel, Coralie? That you’re wasting your time?” No! Fight for me, dammit! Make me a priority! Don’t run away to fucking Suzanne Everhart! “I can’t keep doing this, Devlin. This back and forth. This push and pull. I just want to be happy.” He ran his hand along my arm and up my back as he sat up next to me. “Then choose to be,” he murmured as he stroked my hair. I turned to face him. Those eyes were the death of me. When he leaned in for a kiss, the whole fight was over. I had been lost without him. I needed him. I wanted him. I loved him, though I was fairly sure it was killing me. We made love like we always made love. We didn’t talk much, because we never talked much. And after he fell asleep beside me, and I could hear the reassuring sound of his soft snoring, I tried my best to close my eyes without seeing him fucking someone else. It was impossible. There were too many faces ready to plug into the scenario. Images of Simone and Suzanne, even Caz, dogged my frazzled brain.

The next day Suzanne was back at the store, monopolizing all of Devlin’s time. Oliver took me to lunch again, and Caz called to confirm our appointment the next day. He wanted me to join him at his beach house, where he had a full gym on the third floor. When I told Devlin about it that night, I had hoped for a bigger argument. Instead he said, “We’ll take one car to work tomorrow. Have him pick you up from the store. I’ll come and get you after Aubrey’s lesson.” It seemed a little more inconvenient than necessary. “Why?” I finally asked, though I didn’t expect him to answer. Instead he surprised me by bluntly replying, “Because he needs to be reminded that it isn’t his show to run.” I shuddered as I thought about the last time Caz and Dev were together in the apartment. Their relationship was combustible. It was always a game of dominance, particularly when it came to women. Keeping them together was like throwing a couple of honey badgers in the same pen, and I already knew–from experience–that they were dominant males constantly vying for the title of alpha. It was a no-win situation. But I grabbed my phone and texted Caz that he should pick me up from the store by five o’clock the next day. He was there by four-thirty.

Unlike the week before, he didn’t bother dressing up for our “date.” He wore jeans and a T-shirt, which made him look even younger. I followed him out to his car, a sexy little two-seater convertible. He pulled the top down as he waded along rush-hour traffic heading west just like the sun. He played music loudly, mostly songs about sex that he would sing out loud with that cocky smile on his face. “We should go dancing,” he decided just as we pulled up to his house. “Best exercise next to sex, in my opinion. Want to dance with me, Coralie?” he said, using my name to make a little sing-song rhyme in a soft voice that just grated all over my last nerve. “Never,” I hissed. It only made his smile deepen. I had to carry my workout gear in a gym bag, so I hoisted it over my shoulder as we walked up to his house. Once inside, he pointed to the bathroom on the main floor. “You can change in there.” I didn’t bare one inch before I locked the door safely behind me. When I exited the bathroom, the lights in the living room had been turned down and more seductive R&B played from his expensive sound system. His patio door was open, so I heard the ocean crash against the shore just outside. I found uncorked wine in

the small kitchen, sitting right there on the corner of his counter. I sighed. It was an atmosphere built for romance, or what passed for it when you were paying a man to fuck you. This was where I got to fend him off again. Hooray. The first level, however, was completely empty. I ended up climbing the metal spiral staircase towards the second level, which included the master bedroom with an ocean view. Candles were lit. The king sized bed was covered in blue satin sheets, which were turned down. Rose petals were scattered across the bed, and two glasses of wine sat on the nightstand. Again, the room appeared empty. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard Caz’s voice above me. “Decisions, decisions.” I glanced up to where he sat on the top steps of his staircase, on the brightly lit third floor. He wore workout gear, which surprised me. “You keep going to all this trouble, but it’s pointless. I’m never going to fuck you, Caz.” “So you keep saying,” he shrugged. “But admit it, pussycat. You hesitated a little bit when you saw that bed all laid out for you.” “Not even remotely,” I said as I climbed the stairs. I stopped two steps below him, where we virtually faced off. “And

what do you care anyway? You’ve made it clear you don’t want to fuck me.” He stood. “That was before,” he said before he took the last step up into his home gym. I followed behind. “Before what?” “You turned it into a challenge,” he grinned. “The more you deny me, the more I want it. Dreadful how we humans are wired that way.” He indicated that I get on the treadmill first. Using a remote, he turned on a music channel playing more songs with a beat. And of course they were all sexual. “You only have one arrow in your quiver, don’t you, Caz?” He grinned. “When you find something that works…,” he trailed off before he showed me a few of his dance moves. When he ran his hand down his chest, I got an instant visual of what he had looked like naked. My head snapped back as I tried to focus on the exercise. He chuckled as he set the machine and then watched me as I began the pre-set program. He then got on the machine behind me, locking me into the confined place with his arms on either side, grasping the bars. “What are you doing?”

He was walking just behind me, to where I could feel his body against mine. He leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Only one machine. We’re going to have to share.” He reached around me to increase the speed and the incline, until we were practically jogging uphill. My pace quickened, until I was panting lightly. I could feel my back press into his chest. I felt that legendary member between his legs press into my ass. “Why do you do this?” I mumbled at last. “Because you like it,” he said in my ear. “Fuck you,” I spit. “I tried to put an end to all this if you remember.” “Yeah. Tried to tell you that wouldn’t work out the way you had hoped. Maybe next time you’ll listen to me. Because of you, Devlin probably ended up fucking her again.” I turned to get off of the moving belt, but it was impossible. He just kept increasing the speed. “Not so fast, Mrs. Masters. Workout’s not done.” “I hate you.” “I know.” He kept up the torture for thirty whole minutes. I ended up running the equivalent of over two miles. I was covered in sweat as I stumbled off of the treadmill. He was quick to catch me. He held me a beat longer than necessary, so I pushed him away before I

headed for the elliptical. There was only one of those too, but this time he let me do it on my own. Instead he sat one of the other benches, shamelessly watching me. It made me feel even more selfconscious than the times I stripped for Dev. “You’re just going to watch me?” I finally said when I could stand it no more. “I like watching you,” he told me softly. I took a deep breath, steeled my spine and glared forward out the window at the ocean beyond. Afterwards we did a couple of resistance machines, on my upper body, my legs and my core. His hands lingered on my body as he showed me the proper way to lift the weights or repeat the reps. Every single time he touched me, I fought not to vomit right in his hateful face. Finally he led me to a punching bag that hung from a hook in the corner of his gym. “Here. Have a go at it.” I was so irritated I didn’t need to be asked twice. I reared back and hit the bag until it swung back against him. He caught it with a smile. “Not bad, pussycat. Not bad. Now do it again.” I punched again, first with the right hand. Then with the left. “Good,” he encouraged. “Now use those legs, girl. Kick this bag just like you’re kicking me in the balls.” That needed no encouragement. Within minutes I was

punching and kicking that bag with all the resentment, anger, confusion and frustration that had dogged me ever since we got back to Los Angeles. “Good,” Caz nodded. “Don’t be afraid to use your elbows and your knees. Come on. Let me see what you’ve got, Mrs. Masters.” I worked on that bag until I was so tired I could barely stand. Caz stepped around it to capture me before I swooned to the floor. “Good job,” he told me as he sat me down at one of the machines. He grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge he kept close by. “Probably not a good idea for you to teach me how to kick some ass,” I warned. “You manhandle me again and I might just have to kick yours.” He chuckled as he sat on the machine opposite me. He easily hoisted the weight with his sculpted arms. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said as he worked out himself through a series of reps, likely to show me what I was missing by not succumbing to his charms. Despite all the games, he really did work hard sculpting his body. And his hellacious workouts were definitely changing mine. It was just a damn shame he was such a contemptible asshole. I sighed. “You know, you’re not half bad when you behave like a human being. Why do you have to be such a jerk, Caz?”

He huffed and puffed with exertion. “I have a reputation to maintain,” he replied with that shit-eating grin I loathed. “Being an asshole work that well for you?” He replaced the weights and sat up to look at me. “Look around you, CC. You tell me.” He grabbed my water bottle from my hand and unscrewed the cap, then guzzled it while his eyes studied my face. He handed it back to me with a grin, as if he knew what kind of intimate liberties he had just taken. I shook my head. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” “Nope,” he announced cheerfully. “Why should I? The way I figure it, we’re all hedonists deep down. We all constantly think about the stuff we’re not supposed to, those things you’d never admit in polite company. But we all have those moments when we pass a stranger on the street and instantly wonder what it would be like to fuck them. We all have those moments where we talk to someone, and suddenly we fixate on their lips, imaging what it would look like on our bodies, or taste like against our mouth. We’ve all had that moment when we wanted to just have fun without consequences, like fucking a stranger you don’t even know, in every raunchy way you could imagine. So why not just do it? Take no prisoners. Make no apologies.” I didn’t say anything, so he went on. “Sure there are people who, when they think these thoughts, feel like they’re some

kind of weirdo. An oddball. A deviant. And a few are. But most of us are just normal human beings, hardwired to enjoy sex for pleasure. We’re supposed to want it. We’re supposed to love it. The problems only arise when we’re told we shouldn’t want it, or that we shouldn’t have it. That there’s something wrong with us if we love it the way that we do. It’s everywhere all the time, yet our society wants to pretend like it doesn’t exist. That it’s improper, or obscene. It’s all bullshit, CC. All this perceived purity? I’ve seen the truth every time someone paid me to fuck them. And the things they want to do,” he crowed with a chuckle. “We’re not pure at all. We just lump lust behind other, more obscene sins like wrath, gluttony, envy or greed, simply because that helps us sleep at night. Like we can forget we’re all animals deep down, happiest when we’re allowed to roar. Look at what happened to you. You can’t honestly tell me that you were happier when you were following all those bogus rules of propriety.” I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. “No.” “There you go. If there’s anything I teach you in these next few months, I hope it’s that. Because that means so much more than how much you weigh or how you look. Some of the best lays of my life have been ugly women who just knew how to take what they wanted.” I scowled at him. “Way to ruin a moment, Caz. Why do

you have to be such a pig?” He shrugged. “Just being honest, pussycat. But I can see how you might not be used to that.” I stood from the training machine and headed down the spiral staircase. He sauntered easily behind. I didn’t even pause in his bedroom before I made my way to the first floor bathroom, where I shut the door between us and locked it. With a sigh, I peeled off my clothes and turned on the shower. Dev still hadn’t arrived by the time I emerged from the bathroom. It was about ten before eight, so I sat on the sofa and waited. Caz brought me some kind of green smoothie. I regarded him cautiously as I smelled it. He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I don’t need to resort to roofies to get a woman into bed. Usually they jump right in and pay me for the privilege.” To prove his point, he took a sip of the smoothie before he handed it back to me, and then he sat on the other end of his sofa. “So will we be training next week or will you be too busy preparing to go overseas?” My eyebrow arched. “Does it matter? I thought we had a long-standing engagement with these phony workouts.” He appeared genuinely offended. “Excuse me, but these workouts are not phony. Have you looked at yourself lately, CC? You’re turning into a bona fide babe by the day. How much weight

have you lost?” “Does it matter?” I snapped. “Only to your dad. And the press. And your precious Cabot’s,” he answered. I fumed as I stared at him. “I’m honestly surprised you won’t force me to fly back every Wednesday just to keep up the ruse.” He laughed. “You could just take me with you. I’ve never been to France.” “Sorry. Two’s company. Three’s a crowd.” “Depends on the three,” he murmured softly. I rolled my eyes. “You really can’t take anything seriously, can you?” “I take my survival very seriously,” he said. I thought about the big payday he expected come December 31. “Yes. I suppose you do. You know you really are a decent trainer. You don’t need all this other stuff.” He leaned his arm across the back of the sofa. “You already think you know what I need? You don’t know me at all.” “And whose fault is that?” I shot back. “You’re the one making these stupid little sessions about sex.” “I already told you. Everything is about sex,” he reminded. “I’m just more open about it.”

“You hide behind it,” I corrected. He chuckled as he leaned close. “And trying to psychoanalyze me, too. Why pussycat, I didn’t know you cared.” “Forget it,” I hissed before I turned away from him. He edged closer on the sofa. “Don’t be so touchy. We’re not curing cancer here. We’re just having a little fun.” I glared at him. “This is not fun for me, okay, Caz? This has been the exact total opposite of fun. I hate this. I hate you. I hate Suzanne Fucking Everhart. I hate that I can’t just be happy with my new husband, or dream about the future, without some gigantic cloud always hanging over our heads, threatening to ruin everything all the time, like we have some kind of time limit on bliss. I didn’t ask for any of this, Caz. I don’t want it. I just want everyone to leave me the fuck alone already so I can get my goddamn life back. Okay?” He studied me for a moment before he sat back in his corner of the sofa. “Okay.” I waited for the other shoe to drop. He never made anything easy. Before either of us could say anything, headlights flashed across the window facing the street. It was likely Dev, showing up at eight o’clock on the dot. “There’s the ball and chain,” Caz said as he stood. He walked towards the stairs, stopping just at the last minute to turn

back to me. “Take off next Wednesday. We’ll pick up again when you get back from France.” My eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?” “There is no catch. You’re right, CC. You deserve a break. And I really want you to enjoy your month in France with your new husband. You might want to make it count, because whether you want to believe me or not, it’s going to be your last.” He turned on his heel and headed upstairs. I practically exploded as I shot up off the sofa and stomped out of the house, nearly mowing down Devlin in my path. He followed me to the car. “Everything okay?” he asked as we belted ourselves in. “No,” I snapped. “Nothing is okay. Just take me home.” And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t mean the luxury apartment downtown. I was over all of it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN That night I didn’t let Devlin touch me. I curled as tightly as I could on my side of the bed and kept my back to him. I didn’t even tell him why. For once I was the one that demanded to be trusted, no questions asked. And he couldn’t do one damned thing about it. The rest of the week he was busy dealing with Suzanne for their big fundraiser that Friday night. I conferred with Darcy via video chats to discuss the dress she was making just for me. It was a formal gown, with an empire waist with a lace and sequined overlay covering a mauve skirt of the softest silk. The top was a more stretchy fabric in a deep aubergine color that cut across both breasts and gathered in the center for a dramatic, but tasteful, cleavage. It was a stunning piece, worthy of Darcy’s debut with Cabot’s. Suzanne also got a Darcy original. The idea, they told me, was that everyone woman could feel like an original in these new designs, so they wanted different types of women in different types of dresses. Hers was black, a mermaid design that hugged her hourglass figure, including the new boobs she’d bought for herself within the last few years. Her cleavage was a little more pronounced

as a result, and framed by dazzling rhinestones. Even Aubrey got hooked up, with an edgy black and white dress with sparkly silver strands woven throughout the checkerboard design, and a train of flowing ruffles towards the back, and a short fitted skirt that ended just above the knee. “I wished you could be here to see everyone gush over your work,” I told Darcy that Friday afternoon. She merely dismissed it with a shy shake of her head. “They don’t want to see me. They want to see you.” “Trust me. They’re going to want to meet you. You’re about to become the talk of the town.” She gulped hard. I could tell that freaked her out a little bit. “You’re going to be okay, you know? Dev and I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” It was a flimsy promise that she clearly saw right through, which was why she quickly changed the subject to what types of shoes I’d be wearing. I left that up to my stylist, Jorge Navarro, who was scheduled to meet me at my office by three o’clock. That he agreed to come at all had been a miracle. When I told him what I needed his services for, he was wholly uninterested. “I don’t mind making you look good, but there’s no way I’d help the likes of Suzanne Everhart. She’s bananas.” He spelled it out for emphasis. But he showed up on time and worked his magic. By the

time Devlin picked me up at a quarter to five, I had transformed into everything my father always wanted me to be. Thanks to my grueling workouts, and my stressed out life, I had lost a good fifteen pounds since Vegas, which meant I had shrunk miraculously into a size twelve. Father was so pleased with the results he couldn’t wait to introduce me to every member of the press. “You know my daughter, Coralie. This is her husband, Devlin Masters.” “You look amazing, Coralie! Is that a Cabot’s design?” To which I would obediently nod with a fake-ass smile plastered across my face. “It’s from a brand new line we’re creating called Youniquely Cabot. Every woman. Every size. We’re putting the ‘you’ back in fashion.” I suspected that our pitch was successful, since I got stopped a dozen times down the red carpet leading towards the club. Devlin played his part well, his arm around me like the proud husband that he was, deferring all credit towards the Cabot’s family, which now included him and his sister. “When will we get to meet her?” reporter after reporter asked. “Fashion Week will be here before you know it,” he promised with a smile. By the time we reached the party, I was already exhausted.

Dev handed me a glass of champagne to reward my performance. “That was perfect, Coralie. You should be very proud.” I just nodded but said nothing. My entire system was thrown out of kilter. Knowing I would see both Suzanne and Caz at this party had me so tightly wound that my tightly-drawn nerves practically played a song when I walked across the room. And of course the mingling wasn’t done. We were passed from very important person to very important person, each of whom wanted to talk about all the great work Harvey and Suzanne would do in the White House. Some of the patrons believed that. Some just came for the open bar. As for me, I simply grabbed another glass of champagne and kept my mouth shut. When the music began to play, I allowed Dev to pull me onto the dance floor just so that I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. He swung me around to an elegant waltz, which attracted a group of admirers. I tried to focus on his face, but every time I looked in his eyes I saw him with that black widow Suzanne. I just knew that she was going to do something, anything, to rub my face in the fact that she could get to my husband. The only upside was that Margot arrived on the arm of

another man, one closer to her own age, with a little notoriety of his own. He was a producer for a popular show on TV, and an ardent supporter of Harvey and Suzanne. They fit right into Father’s close little circle surrounding the Everharts. Thankfully, Dev kept me on the other side of the room. Maybe he was as scared of what Suzanne would do as I was. She didn’t make her move until after dinner was served and the party began in earnest, when she brought a horde of reporters over to our table so she could introduce the man who had created her look for the evening. She pulled Devlin up to stand next to her, threading her arm around his. “He is a marvel, truly. He knows just what we women need and he delivers, like any perfect man,” she added as she smiled up at him like he belonged only to her. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, she dragged me up by the arm to show me off to the press. She kept me on one side and Dev on the other, a not-so-subtle move that inserted her right in between us for the world to see. “This is Coralie. She is the real proof of Devlin’s prowess. She pulled out her phone, which was cued up to a photo of me in the puce nightmare from Lucy’s wedding. “This was what she looked like three weeks ago. Look at her now,” Suzanne gushed.

When our eyes met, I knew that she had just used the opportunity to humiliate me. Her face curved into a sadistic smile. I answered as few questions as I could get away with, before I had to duck away from everyone and fetch another drink. Lucy finally caught up with me at the bar. She’d gotten wind of what Suzanne had done with the reporters. “That woman is a barracuda,” she announced. “Are you okay?” I shook my head as I said, “I’m fine.” I motioned to the bartender for another double. I’d given up champagne for straight bourbon. “No matter what she does, he’s going to be with you for the next four weeks in France. Take heart.” I watched as Dev interacted with her, with that charming smile he had perfected over the years. There wasn’t even a hint that he hated her. Apparently he was an exceptional liar; that much was easy to tell. The only real question was who was he lying to? I watched as she clung onto him, laughing and making small talk with the press. She leaned into him, her hand lingering on his strong arms or his solid chest. Again, Caz’s voice echoed in my ear. “We’d take it whenever she danced dangerously close to inappropriate behavior, like a lingering touch, or standing

too close, or flirting. The really smart guys, like Dev, used it to their advantage. He flirted back. He was just as brazen. He stood a little too close. His touches lingered. Basically he saw an opportunity and he took it. Sound familiar?” I watched my husband play her game to perfection. He was charming and engaging as he spoke. He looked comfortable on her arm, like he had been there many times before. And of course, he had. He leaned toward her, he smiled for photos. No one who looked at them would even think there was any animosity at all. They looked positively friendly. Familiar. Intimate. I had to turn away. Lucy followed me to the bathroom. “Don’t let her get into your head, Ceece. That’s all she’s trying to do. That’s all she can do.” “She’s pretty good at it,” I mumbled before I glanced at my watch. I was waiting for the first opportunity to split. But a quick getaway was not to be. After dinner, the speeches began. Even my father spoke on the importance of electing the right kind of leader, ones that rigorously defended traditional American ideals. They wanted to protect the family, whatever that meant. What it really meant was fiscal policies aimed to benefit that particular audience full of the one-percenters. I knew that on social issues they were mostly tossing a bone to the evangelicals,

who wanted to see progress shutting down controversial things like abortion and gay marriage. When they started in on the drug war, I had to leave the room. You couldn’t swing a dead cat in that place without hitting someone hooked on prescription meds or guzzling any assortment of liquor, but God forbid we legalize a plant. I was never particularly political, certainly not like Lucy had been, but even I had a limit of bullshit I could tolerate. I wasn’t surprised to see that Lucy had exited the fundraiser first. She handed me a small glass pipe that she had smuggled in her purse. “You can’t do that in your condition,” I admonished at once. “It’s not for me, silly. I just had a feeling you could use something with a little more oomph than all the free-flowing booze in there.” I grinned and we both said together, “No hangover.” We walked along the path till we found a secluded area just down the way from the party, where I could take a hit in private. I’d never loved marijuana so much as when it eased all the tension that had been building for weeks. So much better than the booze, which had only given me a dull headache and a queasy stomach the more of it I had to use. Thankfully pot worked for that, too. “I’ve decided something,” Lucy declared. “This is my last

command performance. I’ve got my own household now. My own family. I don’t need to do Sylvia Lyon’s bidding just because she snaps her fingers. She paid for the tickets. So what? Like I want to be photographed in the same room as some of these yahoos, especially that misogynist, Harvey Everhart. Please. I’m honestly surprised that Suzanne has been able to hold onto him for so long. She must have something really juicy on him.” I turned to her. “What do you mean?” “The relationship just doesn’t make any sense. He’s married like four times, and three of those looked like supermodels. In fact, I think two were supermodels.” I laughed. “I think you’re right.” “So here’s this really rich guy, this stupidly rich guy, who can have any woman he wants and he picks a pre-Devlin Suzanne. Not only does he marry her, but he looks the other way while she has this parade of studs stampeding through her stable. Why would he do that? It doesn’t make any sense. She has to have something on him.” “You watch too many soap operas, Luce,” I teased. “You live a freaking soap opera, Ceece,” she shot back. I could hardly argue. “Speaking of which, I’m surprised your buddy Caz didn’t make an appearance. I thought he couldn’t pass up opportunities to make your life hell.”

“Right? I honestly don’t know what’s up with him. He even told me I could even skip this week. Who knows what’s going on?” “Maybe he’s growing up or some shit,” Lucy commented, making me laugh again. It was some really good pot. I even found myself smiling when I walked back into the club, where Harvey was breathing fire from the podium, whipping the crowd into a frenzy about ‘taking the country back.’ I had always wondered where it had gone, or who had taken it. I sat next to Devlin, who had finally shaken Suzanne free when she returned to the lead table. He spared me a smile. I returned it. Before Harvey could finish his speech, Devlin discreetly pulled me up from our chair so we could sneak out. Our job was done. There was nothing left to do but survive all the hot air. I grabbed my purse and followed, to make our escape while everyone was preoccupied. He practically broke into a trot towards the parking lot, so we could make a clean getaway. We were running by the time we got to the valet, where we huddled together, laughing. It was such a relief after so many rough weeks. He picked me up into his arms and twirled me around. “There she is,” he murmured. “My beautiful wife.” I looped my arms around him and held on. It felt so good to feel good; I just didn’t want it to end. I even broke out the pipe

and the flower after we got into the car, on our way past the exit. “Why Coralie Masters,” he admonished with a grin. “I had no idea you were a pothead.” “Some days you need a little more help than others,” I commented as I took a hit. “That back there was a total cannabis emergency.” He must have agreed, because the minute he parked the car he grabbed the tiny glass pipe for a hit of his own. By the time we reached our apartment, we both felt like we were flying. He picked me up at the threshold and carried me towards the bedroom. He didn’t stop until we tumbled onto the bed, laughing until we couldn’t breathe. As the giggles passed, he cupped my head with his hand. “You were so fucking beautiful tonight, baby. You shined. At last everyone could see what I see.” I so badly wanted to believe him. I traced his face with my finger. “What?” he probed softly. I sighed and pulled him down to me. “I just can’t wait to get to Chateau du Cabot. I’m tired of sharing you with the world.” He kissed me softly. “Ditto.” His hand trailed down my body until it rested against my tummy. “I’m going to share you soon enough,” he said before he leaned forward to plant a long peck against my tummy.

“Is that what you really want, Dev?” I asked. And I hated how pathetic I sounded when I asked it. He gathered me close in his arms. “I want you, Coralie. Everything about you. Every day of my life. I love you, baby.” Whether I was high or just in denial, I decided to be happy with that answer, just in that moment. I kissed him back before turning him onto his back so I could make up for some lost time. The next day we went house-hunting. Since Lucy had found such a gem in Brentwood, we expanded our search there. We found a beautiful five-bedroom home secluded behind a wall of trees keeping guard along the quiet street. The house had two living areas, one with a bookshelves built in all the way to the ceiling, with a sliding ladder attached. The kitchen featured blue granite countertops and cobalt shaded light fixtures, and the focal point of the formal living room was a large fireplace framed with blue marble, which opened up on the other side of the wall to the library. The floors were hardwood, all polished cherry, and it had over four-thousand square feet of living space. The true selling point of the house was the back yard, which was large enough to be zoned for horses. “Chloe will like that,” Devlin grinned. “As much as Remi will love the pool,” I replied with a grin of my own as I surveyed the swimming pool, which was separate

from the house, secured by a white picket fence all the way around it, to make it safer for a household with small children. Mature trees stood around the property, keeping it secure and private, with lots of space for a family to grow. That estate was everything great about the Golden Age of the 1950s, and California itself. We knew in a second that it was the house we wanted. Devlin didn’t even bother haggling. He offered the full asking price. It was worth it, just to make sure we got it. We made the offer on Saturday. By Wednesday, we were at the realtor’s office, signing our life away for our very first home, a modest $8,000,000 estate that we financed all for our very own. Best of all we could move in right as we returned home from France, which meant I only had a few more days stuck in that luxury high-rise. That, along with the fact that Caz had made himself scarce, and Suzanne had joined her husband on the campaign trail, allowed me to relax a bit and enjoy myself, especially since I was now a bit of a superstar. Apparently my transformation was the talk of the town. I was featured on news feeds and fashion blogs across the country after my oh-so-fabulous debut at the fundraiser. Several fashion magazines wanted to talk to me, particularly about our new clothing line, so I couldn’t turn them down. This dominated my

duties at Cabot’s for those last days of July. I became the face of Youniquely Cabot whether that was the original plan or not, with my own personal quest to feel empowered and beautiful at the heart of the campaign. I did at least six interviews before we boarded our plane that afternoon on July 31st. The further we climbed into the air away from Los Angeles, the better I felt. It was as if everything was finally falling into place. I grabbed Dev’s hand and squeezed. He smiled as he squeezed back. He had teased about joining the mile-high club during our flight, but we had decided that we wouldn’t do anything until August 8th, when I was scheduled to ovulate. I had already bought the kits and learned the positions that would make this the easiest conception known to humankind. All we needed was one of Devlin’s little soldiers to find my egg and we were in business. Since Dev and I were the kinds of people who knew how to make things happen, we made every single one of our plans accordingly, even if it meant we had to deny ourselves. It wasn’t always easy to do that, particularly when he would run his hand down my leg under the blanket we shared as we dozed crossing the Atlantic. I gasped when his fingers slipped under my dress and slid up my thigh. “Dev,” I started, but he simply shushed me.

“You’re dreaming,” he murmured. I held my breath as his hand disappeared between my legs. When he slid a finger under my underwear, I gasped out loud. If he was going to insist that I scream and wake up a darkened plane full of sleepy passengers, I was going to be in serious trouble. Instead he just teased me, making me squirm in my seat, whimpering for a release I knew wasn’t coming for another week. “You’re driving me crazy,” I groaned as I pushed my body into his hands. “It’ll be worth it,” he assured. I knew he wanted our child’s conception to be perfect, and was approaching the whole process reverently. This was what mattered. Not all that drama with Suzanne and Caz. We arrived in Paris a little before noon local time. We stayed there for that first weekend, so I could show him the town. We ate delicious food in outdoor cafes. We drank wine for no reason at all. We prowled the Louvre. We rode up to the top of the Eiffel Tower, where we took a selfie and posted it online like the rest of our romantic trip. Now that we had so much attention on us, and by extension Youniquely Cabot, Father had tasked me with taking these kinds of shots to promote our clothes, particularly the new

ones I wore, which essentially brought Cabot’s to the 21st century on social media. By August 2nd, when we posted the Eiffel Tower shot, I had over ten thousand followers. That Suzanne made a point to “like” the photo, to remind us that she was still around and still watching, was a dark blot on an otherwise perfect weekend. We ate well. We drank a lot. We held each other. We kissed. We promised everything and nothing all at once. And as we stared out over the grand old city of Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower, we realized how far we had truly come in such a short amount of time. It had only been eleven weeks since we stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower replica in Las Vegas, and here we were, in the City of Lights, one of the most romantic cities in the world. At least that was how he tagged the shot of us kissing with the Eiffel Tower behind us. We even used some useful hashtags, including the ever popular #TBT hashtag when Devlin posted a photo from Vegas I didn’t even know he had taken. #elevenweeks #fullcircle #perfectlove The photo showed in stark contrast how much I had changed, particularly when he paired it with a current photo. I didn’t even look like myself anymore. I looked more like my beautiful

mother. It proved just how magical Devlin Masters really was. Suzanne liked that photo too. I rented a car to drive us to Châlons-en-Champagne, which was a little over a hundred miles east of Paris. We stopped in the middle of our two hour drive for a picnic, eating soft cheeses and fruit along with even more wine. Dev pulled me down next to him on the blanket we’d spread out on the countryside, to hold me tightly in his arms. “This is perfect,” he murmured. “You are perfect.” He kissed me then, and we almost forgot that we were voluntarily celibate for the next five days. It was almost as if denying ourselves made the longing that much stronger, so much stronger than all of our challenges back home. We arrived at the chateau early that afternoon, just shy of one o’clock. We ambled up the gravel driveway around the enormous estate that dated all the way back to the 16th century. The old stone buildings were stately, and the water-filled mote surrounded the outer stone walls decorated with large green garland and creeping vines. “Wow,” Devlin breathed as we finally pulled to a stop. Before we could exit the car, two men ran immediately out to greet us. They were Henri Picard and Jean-Luc Roelle, a lovely couple we had hired to look after the place shortly after Mama

died, and Father knew we wouldn’t be coming back as much. They greeted me like the beloved old uncles that they were. Henri and Jean-Luc loved Chateau du Cabot as much as their very own home. They painstakingly took care of the place, tending the grounds, maintaining the house, overseeing the vineyards and always keeping the house available to any Cabot who might want to visit. For the last ten years, that had been only me. We had other family in France, extended family, who owned the different vineyards for our award-winning wines. But Chateau du Cabot had always really belonged to Adrian Cabot’s America offshoot of the family tree. It was so deeply a part of me from the time I was born that it had always seemed fairly unremarkable. Until I saw the place through Devlin’s eyes, anyway. It had a courtyard and remains of a fort, with tall stone walls surrounding the main house. There was a chapel on the grounds, near my mother’s final resting place, a special spot among the meadows watched over by an old stone angel that time had cracked and weathered. There were eight bedrooms, six bathrooms and seven reception areas. The grounds included a heated swimming pool, and there was modern furniture in all of the rooms, with just a few

antique pieces scattered without. Yet I could still feel the ghosts of my ancestors as we walked the spacious halls. I took Devlin up to the master suite, which I had taken over when I realized that Father was either too sick or too distraught to return to Chateau du Cabot. It was the largest room, with dramatic beamed ceilings and a large bed facing the window to look over the grounds. Again Devlin took me into his arms. “I never realized you were royalty,” he said before he bent for a kiss. “My queen.” We changed into something more comfortable to wear as we prowled the grounds. I took him to the chapel first, which was kept much like it was found–in ruins. This old building hadn’t fared as well as the rest of the house, though we were partly to blame for that. We didn’t mind the broken stained glass windows, or the dusty, cracked wood floors. There were several pews, but most of the space in front of the altar was clear of anything except a beam of light that shined through a hole in the ceiling. He kissed my hand. “My favorite spot so far.” I nodded. I had always felt the same, considering this was where my own family started when Father married Mother here more than twenty years before. After that I walked him along the pathway towards the river, where a stone statue sat among the fallen leaves. “Hi, Mama,”

I said softly to her lingering ghost, who guarded over our woods. She didn’t have a grave. Her ashes were scattered, so she could be free to fly in death as she had been in life. When father died, his ashes would be spread here as well, to unite with her at last. They’d become part of the trees, part of the river… part of our home. After the sun set, we headed back to the chateau, where dinner waited for us. Henri and Jean-Luc were extraordinarily attentive to guests, mostly because we didn’t get them that often. They tried to communicate with Dev, who didn’t speak much French. I ended up having to translate, and we still had a fabulous time where we laughed and joked all night long. That night, when I crawled into bed with my husband, it struck me how drastically my life had changed. When I had stayed there just the previous spring, I had no clue what life had in store for me. Now I could see my future planned to the letter. Husband, check. Home, check. Career objective, check. And now we were going to conceive a baby. It truly was perfect. I cuddled up to Devlin. “Thanks for making my dreams come true, Dev,” I murmured against his skin as I lay my head on

his chest. “I love you.” He pulled me across his body for another kiss. I snuggled against him and didn’t dream until morning. The next few days felt like stepping back in time. There was no TV, only books. That had been Mother’s rule, and I had never felt the need to change it. I was perfectly happy to disconnect from the world and escape to my country estate. Devlin had a harder time adjusting. He used his phone a lot, particularly to post photos on our accounts, to show our new fans what we were up to. He liked to put me in each and every one. I stopped checking those photos when Caz started following our accounts, and liking every single picture Devlin took of me by myself. I had enough to worry about without thinking about Caz Bixby. I started taking ovulation tests on August 6, because I was too damn impatient to wait any longer to make love to my husband. “Let’s just make love every day,” I suggested. “We can’t go wrong.” He chuckled. “Just two more days, Mrs. Masters. And then you can get what it is you truly want.” Despite his denying himself, he usually still fulfilled me whenever I reached for him, but it wasn’t what I wanted. What I needed.

On August 8th we finally got the green light. I was ovulating, and had until my birthday to conceive our first child. I practically pounced him before he could even wake up that morning, but he shook his head as he held me close. “It’s gotta be perfect, Coralie.” “We’ve only got twenty-four hours,” I pouted. “I’ll only need one,” he grinned before he thrust off the covers and leapt out of bed. That he was naked, and aroused, only made me crazier. He left the chateau itself for nearly an hour on the dot. I had just gone to look for him when he snuck up behind me just outside the front door. “I’ve got a surprise,” he whispered against my ear. “Okay,” I grinned, ready to go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted. This was our day. Our special day. He slipped his satin blindfold from his pocket and affixed it over my eyes before he began to lead me down the path. “You’re going to get lost,” I protested with a chuckle. “I’m never lost when I’m with you, Coralie.” I shuddered, shut up and followed. He led me by the hand far away from the grounds. I didn’t even know where he was taking me until I heard the old wooden door creak on its hinges. He pulled the blindfold away to reveal the

chapel. It had been cleaned, as in swept and dusted, and large taper candles burned in the various candelabras around the room. They, along with that pinpoint of sunshine from the hole in the roof, set the room aglow. There was a blanket and pillows on the floor in front of the altar. I turned to Dev. “You want to make love in a chapel?” He nodded as he pulled me towards the pallet he had set up. “We’re creating life, Coralie. What could be holier?” I shivered as he pulled me down to the blanket, where he pushed me onto my back. He followed me down, kissing me fully at long last. We no longer had to wait. This was it. This was the moment we had been anticipating. I pulled him down to me, tangling my fingers in his hair. I kissed him hard, exploring his mouth with my tongue as I arched my back against him. He loved my tits, and I encouraged him to explore them liberally. I nearly came the minute he ripped away my shirt and pushed aside my bra to take my nipple into his mouth. “Devlin,” I cried out. He took his time getting me up to speed. We knew that my having an orgasm increased our chances of pregnancy. So I didn’t protest much as he fingered me shamelessly on the floor of that old chapel. What we were doing felt godlike. We were creating a life, like Devlin said.

Before I could come, Devlin turned me over onto my knees, where he ran his hands lovingly along my back and down my backside. I felt him reaching for me. “Devlin, please,” I begged. He curled his body around mine. “This is our moment, Coralie. We can’t go back from this. Tell me you’re sure. Tell me you trust me.” “Of course I trust you,” I replied, obediently and sincerely. “You’re my husband.” He shuddered against me. “Tell me you want to have my baby, Coralie.” I leaned back against him, practically arching my aching breast into his hand. “More than anything.” “Nothing will ever break our bond,” he whispered against my ear. “Tell me you believe that.” I nodded. “I believe it. I believe you, Devlin,” I assured him. He groaned as his hand disappeared between our bodies to position himself. “I love you more than life itself, Coralie. You’re my dream. You’re my masterpiece.” With that he entered me. He was so big and so hard it nearly split me open, particularly from that angle. But it was all I had wanted. He placed his hands on my hips, to pull me into each

stroke. At first it was slow and sumptuous. We luxuriated in every single inch. We were truly one. But within minutes his self-imposed celibacy caught up with him. He was bucking wild into me, and I met each and every thrust. He grabbed my hair and held on as he pumped into me, until with one strangled cry he released himself. Then, and only then, did he reach between us and tip me over the edge with his fingers. Each spasm milked him even more, until I was sure that we had conceived our first child. Never one to take chances, we didn’t leave that church for hours afterwards. He tried more than one position, just to be sure. I knew I’d never forget how his face looked when he was laying above me, staring down at me, the sunlight spilling from the ceiling creating a halo around his head. A tear squeezed from the corner of my eye, which he caught easily on his finger. He said nothing; he just kept me locked in that powerful gaze as we made love. As we made a baby. When we returned to the chateau, he wanted to ‘haunt’ each and every room. We didn’t get out of the bedroom until one o’clock in the morning, which was technically my birthday. He finally announced what my gift would be as his hands worked their magic against my body. “Twenty-four orgasms within twenty-four

hours for your twenty-fourth year,” he promised as he cashed in that first one. It was a hell of a gift. I almost lost track around number four. I nearly lost consciousness around number ten. The next morning he surprised me with breakfast in bed. We ate two bites before he discarded the tray and worked on his birthday objective. By noon, he finally led me downstairs, where he played the piano for me in the large living room, where all the beautiful melody bounced off of the walls. Since Henri and Jean-Luc had gone to the city for the week, we could roam freely around the grounds, completely naked, making love whenever or wherever we chose. It was a glorious birthday, made even more perfect when he surprised me that night before bed with a small gift-wrapped box. “Dev, what did you do?” “I had a promise to make good on,” he informed me with that deep smirk that I loved. I nearly squealed as I opened the box. I loved presents. The minute I lifted the top away, though, I was speechless. It was a charm bracelet, just like the one my parents had bought me so long ago. Instead of my mother’s story, it was mine.

There was a dress to signify the first day I met Devlin. Then there was piano, to remind me of how he had played for me that first time. There was dark red rose, a token for uncommon beauty. A diamond ring, to honor our engagement. A horse, for our new home. And a pacifier… for our baby, who was hopefully already dividing and multiplying like crazy. My eyes were filled with tears when I faced him. “Devlin,” was all I could say. He caressed my face. “I wanted to give you back your perfect day, Coralie. How’d I do?” I tossed aside the box and pulled him down for a kiss. Each day passed like that. They were lazy days full of laughter and love. And God, how our passion ignited. No matter how many times we made love, we’d always come back for more. There seemed little reason to deny ourselves. This would be the last time we’d ever come to Chateau du Cabot without one of our children in tow. If life kept up at this rate, giving us more good stuff than bad, I might give in and have those four children Dev mentioned he wanted. In fact, as the days went by, I couldn’t think of anything else but babies and impending motherhood. I wondered what was happening inside my body. I kept track of every single sensation, to

hop all over any early symptom. I could hardly wait to see the result. We had made love constantly for nearly ten days straight, with the sole purpose of conception. The test could only turn out one way. No more negatives like the last time, when I was still on the pill and everything was some big game of chance. By the time I returned home to Father in L.A., I fully expected to produce a positive pregnancy test for him, to give him the grandchild he always wanted. I had already picked which room would be the nursery. I found myself breaking my own rules as I window-shopped online. I stopped myself just short of ordering anything. We’d have plenty of time to do all that once we got home. Instead I made oblique references to the future whenever I posted any of the frequent photos I posted. I posted a photo of the chapel that very day, tagging it #newbeginnings. That Saturday, the 22nd, when I was supposed to take my pregnancy test, I woke up to cramps and spotting. I was prepared for light spotting, since that’s what all the information had suggested might be positive. I took the test anyway. Sure enough, the test was negative. Surer still, my period arrived in full force the next day. I was so depressed I couldn’t even make it out of bed.

Devlin gave me some space. It was clear that he was just as disappointed, but he kept his chin up and told me that night, “We’ll just have to make our baby when we move into our new home.” I nodded. Seemed simple enough, but given that I didn’t know what we had done wrong, I wasn’t sure that this process was simple at all. And as if it couldn’t get worse, Devlin was called back to Cabot’s a full week early. Fashion Week was coming, and we had a lot to do, especially now that Suzanne wanted to be a part of it. Because of course she did. It was because of that Devlin insisted I stay. “Give yourself another week to recover from everything,” he said as he held me close that night. “You know Caz is going to come sniffing around like the vulture he is.” I shuddered as I thought about it. Aside from his ‘liking’ photos on social media, he hadn’t tried to reach out to me for nearly a month. There was only one thing worse than knowing what Caz Bixby was thinking… and that was not knowing. As much as I hated it, I stayed behind while Dev went back to the states. No mile high club this trip. Instead, I hung around the chateau and drank lots of wine, like I had done every spring and summer for all of my adult life.

Why not? It wasn’t like I was pregnant. I missed Devlin, sure. After our idyllic month together, I saw him everywhere. I felt him everywhere, particularly that old chapel, where I would retreat at least once a day, lying on the floor, reminiscing about our time there together as we attempted to make a baby. I closed my eyes and I could see his face, surrounded by light, as those loving eyes stared into my very soul. He had rewired every single memory I had of my ancestral home, imprinting himself on every wall, in every doorway, across every blade of grass. I knew it would never be home without him again. But the nights passed much like they had months before, before I had ever met a man named Devlin Masters. I was alone, and it sucked. Technology only made things worse. I felt compelled to keep an eye on what happened in Los Angeles, so I was painfully aware of Suzanne tagging Devlin on one of her photos, two days after he returned. She showed up with him on her arm at an L.A. gala, which–per the press at least–was to promote Youniquely Cabot as her exclusive clothing line for the rest of her husband’s campaign. I didn’t last the rest of the week. I flew home by August th 27 , which I justified because the sale of our house was supposed to close on August 28th. I had a lot to do. I had to fill a 4000-

square foot home. I wanted a couple of days head start before I went back to work after Labor Day. Lucy picked me up at the airport, since Devlin was at work. I didn’t even bother to ask him. I knew if I heard the words “Suzanne Everhart,” I’d likely blow a gasket. Our beautiful time together at Chateau du Cabot had been cut short by that hateful bitch already. Anything else and I might just be tempted to burn her empire down to the ground just for the hell of it. Unfortunately, at the moment, our fates were entwined. I couldn’t take her down without hurting Devlin with the same bullet, no matter where I happened to aim. So I walked off that plane and didn’t stop until I headed right into Lucy’s waiting arms. “Have a good trip?” she asked as she hugged me tight. I thought about the negative pregnancy test again. I had much higher hopes for my first conversation with my best friend once I got home. Now I simply had another date to look forward to coming and going just like any other day. I looked in the face of my beautiful bestie, who grinned ear to ear, who practically glowed; she still had a due date to look forward to. “It was great,” I lied with a wide smile of my own. I supposed it wasn’t all a lie. I really did have a beautiful, romantic time with Devlin. I got to share my ancestral home with the

man that I loved. What could be more perfect than that? A baby, the angel on my shoulder whispered in my ear. Lucy hooked her arm in mine as we headed toward baggage claim. She was full of fun little details about setting up her home. I smiled and nodded as I listened to every single one. I didn’t say much, and she finally picked up on it as we grabbed my two suitcases from the carousel. “You get any lower and I’m going to have to find a stepstool for you to get into my car. What’s up?” I opened my mouth and before I could speak, I burst into tears. It was so stupid, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Lucy took me immediately into another hug before she herded me out to her car, so we could have a little more privacy. On the way back to Devlin’s apartment, I spilled everything. I told her about the pregnancy scare months before, where I had originally been so terrified at the prospect of having a child, but was ultimately disappointed to learn there would be no baby. I told her about trying to conceive in France, only to be disappointed yet again. She listened quietly to my tale. If she was shocked by my confession, it didn’t show. “I’m sorry, Ceece,” she said finally, after my words were exhausted. “If it helps, that’s how it works for most couples. When

Gus and I researched the statistics, it’s only like twenty percent or something that can get pregnant within a month. Most take about six. You’ll get there.” I nodded and laid my head against the headrest of her car seat. “I know that logically. I just… I just wanted…,” I trailed off because I didn’t really know what I wanted. Lucy did. “You want to give him something no one else ever has,” she concluded softly. I closed my eyes. Whether you want to hear it or not, best friends tell you the truth. “Do you think I’m stupid, Luce?” She shook her head. “I get it. I mean, they write songs about it for crissakes. I think we all have this romanticized notion of what it would mean to bond to another human being that way. Forget marriage. Babies are permanent. Two people marry, it doesn’t work out, they can divorce and go on their merry way. Two people have a kid and divorce, you’re kind of stuck with that asshole for the next eighteen years at least. There’s no more binding commitment than parenthood.” She slid me a glance. “I guess the bigger question is… what’s your hurry? Are you afraid that without this bond, you’ll lose him?” Another truth bomb detonated. “Maybe,” I finally admitted, because with Lucy I could. “Caz swears that I’ll be alone by New Year’s Eve, instead of renewing my vows in a church like

Father wants me to do. Maybe that scares me more than I care to admit.” “You can’t let that guy get to you, Ceece. That’s just what he wants to do. It’s what he has to do. He has a half a million dollars riding on this. He has to make you self-destruct or else he loses everything. I’d rather see him lose it all than you lose it all. Because you do have it all, Ceece. You have a husband that loves you. You’re about to do everything you wanted to do at Cabot’s. You bought a brand new home close to me,” she added with a smile. “What more is there? Really?” “You’re right,” I conceded with a sigh. “Of course I’m right,” she agreed with a happy grin. “So stop worrying about things you can’t control. I bet you anything you’ll be pregnant within six months. By New Year’s Eve, in fact. Screw Caz. Let that be your objective.” I felt better by the time we reached the apartment. She rode up with me, though I wouldn’t let her carry anything. The minute I opened the door, we realized that the entire apartment had been filled with dark red roses, with rose petals leading from the front door towards the bedroom. Lucy spared me a coy smile. “Looks like someone wanted you home.” She hugged me goodbye before she made a discreet exit, and I followed the rose petals to the bedroom, where I found

Devlin lying naked on top of the covers, champagne in hand. “Welcome home, Mrs. Masters,” he grinned. I put down my suitcases and jumped into our bed so I could make love to my man.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN We hit the ground running for September. Not only were we moving into our new home, but we had to prepare for Fashion Week. This meant bringing Darcy back to L.A. so that Dev could give her a crash course on public relations. I didn’t realize until she arrived just how gargantuan that task would prove to be. Darcy was an intensely private person, for good reason, and she shunned the spotlight–and other people– whenever she could. Since I was ready to ditch that apartment as quickly as possible, I moved into our house on September 1st, happily turning over my key to her and giving Darcy her very own place to stay while she was in town. This worked out perfectly for everyone, especially since Devlin made it clear he didn’t want Caz and Darcy to cross paths during our bogus “training” sessions. After hearing how Caz felt about her, I agreed. Caz showed up on my doorstep on September 2nd, the first Wednesday after I returned from France, just like clockwork. He brought with him a present: a punching bag of my very own. “What can I say?” he grinned. “I look forward to you kicking my ass on

New Year’s Eve.” He then spent most of our time together setting up the punching bag, giving me a welcome reprieve from his normal lecherous behavior. Instead I worked on the gym equipment that Devlin had already purchased for one of the spare bedrooms we had designated as our gym. It was a large, bright room with patio doors that opened up onto the massive backyard, so I was able to concentrate on our beautiful oasis as I worked hard on the treadmill. Despite the fact that Caz silently assembled the stand for the punching bag, I kept waiting for him to say or do something inappropriate. The longer he remained silent, the more nervous I got. I thought maybe he’d found religion or something in all the time we’d been gone, but true to form, he finally pulled a golden nugget out of his hat about a half-hour before Devlin was due home. Although, looking back, it was probably my fault. “So tell me. How was France?” “You should know,” I panted as I performed the reps like he had instructed. “You liked all the photos.” He chuckled. “So I did. I guess I really am a romantic deep down.” “Is Suzanne a romantic, too?” He chuckled as he hung the bag. “Nope. Just a cunt. Why

do you think she made sure to call Dev back early?” “At least one of you admits it,” I muttered as I moved to the next machine. “I’ll always tell you the truth, CC. Count on that.” I sent him a scowl, since I trusted him about as much as any scorpion I’d carry on my back across the river. “I have to say, though. You definitely have her running scared. Good on ya, pussycat.” “According to you, that’s going to make her want to fuck him even more.” “Of course. You’ve introduced another never. Told you about those.” I sighed before I stood up and faced off with my new bag. Just like before, I unleashed my fury with kicks and punches, and Caz watched me closely as he held the bag for me, taking the abuse by proxy. I didn’t even realize I was crying again until I felt the tears splash against my chest. I stepped back with a gasp as I wiped the moisture from my face. “Sorry,” I muttered before I grabbed a towel and turned away. “I must be hormonal or something.” I kept my back to him, but I could hear him walk up behind me. “Here,” he said softly as he guided me towards the stationary bike. He studied me after he had me safely seated. “Please tell me you’re not pregnant, Coralie.”

“What difference would it make if I were?” I challenged. His gaze never wavered. “Because that would be the worst thing you could do.” “Why? So you can’t pretend you want to get me into bed?” He made sure I was looking right in his eyes before he said, “Because she would destroy you.” My stomach dropped. “Why?” He sighed as he looked away. “Spit it out, Caz. Don’t stop now.” “Before Lydia, before… me,” he admitted, “Devlin really did love her. As much as a guy like that can love anyone. He thought they were going to have a future together. Maybe she led him on with fairytale dreams of her own. Sounds like something she’d do. Whether on purpose or by accident, she got pregnant, but Suzanne doesn’t exactly do the mother thing. She decided to get rid of it.” He stopped again. I held my breath as I recalled a very familiar story that Dev once shared. “You’ve wanted children before?” “Once.” “So you’ve been in love before?” “I thought I was. When she missed a period, I thought for sure that was fate telling us we could have it all, even though every moment we had was stolen. She was married.”

“What happened?” “Ultimately there was no baby. But it was the scare she needed to put an end to our affair, before it seriously complicated everything for her.” “What happened, Caz?” I asked, suddenly needing those blanks to be filled. “She went into septic shock and ended up having to get a hysterectomy. Not sure how she ever explained it all to Harvey, but like he ever cared what she did. Their marriage has always been more of a business arrangement, and she was already crazy to begin with. This sort of just tipped her over the edge. She became… cruel. The way she taunted Dev after that. Like she blamed him. Like it was his fault. That’s when she started fooling around with me. To get even, he picked the most wholesome girl in the whole casino to chase after.” “Lydia,” I surmised. “Lydia,” he confirmed. “Suzanne knew she needed to bury her before she could ever become a threat. Look at you,” he said softly, his hands sliding up my legs gently. “You’re turning into this perfect girl, just the right mix of sexy and sweet. You could be a freak in the bedroom, or you could be a mom driving carpool. You can do everything that she can’t do. And you’re his wife?” He took a deep breath. “We know what she did to Lydia. And that’s not

even the worst of it. She’s done horrible things. If you got pregnant with Dev’s baby,” he warned, but before he could say anything else, we heard Devlin’s voice boom in the crowded space. “What’s going on here?” Caz practically jumped right through the ceiling. He shot to his feet and faced off with a very angry Devlin. Though he was clearly intimidated, he tried to play it off like usual. “Just finishing up, boss.” Devlin’s icy glare slid towards me. “Finishing up what?” I stood and stepped apart from Caz, almost guiltily. There was a reason that he didn’t share this type of information, so my hearing about it from someone else felt strangely like a betrayal. “Just… working out,” I shrugged. He looked between us, before his possessive gaze landed on me. “Workout’s over,” he decided. He didn’t bother to look Caz’s direction, and Caz hastily made his retreat around the massive, and angry, man who stood right in the doorway. That he didn’t taunt Dev only proved how volatile this whole situation was proving to be. Even Caz Bixby was running scared. Dev stared at me for a good long moment, letting enough time pass to ensure that Caz was long gone. “Dinner’s ready,” he finally said softly, as he waited for me to react. Like Caz, I was a

little more cautious as I approached him. He kept me captive in his gaze until I stood right in front of him. “Dev,” I started, but he simply grabbed my arm in his and led me back into the hallway. The closer I got to our formal dining room, the more I could smell the wonderful aroma of sausages. I pulled from his grasp to burst through the swinging door to the kitchen, to find Gretchen preparing her famous bratwurst. “I thought you could use some help with dinner on Wednesday nights, since you have so much on your plate,” Devlin said. “She’s agreed to come every week.” I squealed happily before I ran to hug my dear old friend, who chuckled softly as she hugged me right back. “You are too skinny!” she admonished at once. I laughed. I only had about ten extra pounds on me these days, shrinking somewhere around a size 10, thanks to my enormous boobs. “You can fix that,” I assured her. “And I will,” she decided. She sent Devlin a pointed glare. “You want to have babies, you need to keep your wife healthy.” “Yes, ma’am,” he grinned. “Now you see why we need your help.” We all laughed, but I suspected there was another reason we needed her help. Dev didn’t want me alone with Caz in our brand new home. I called him on it by the time we crawled into bed

that night. He tucked the covers around his hips. “After what I saw this evening, I rather think I made the right choice.” “Nothing is going to happen with Caz,” I assured him. I touched his arm. “I love you. I’m here with you.” Now that I knew more details about what happened with Suzanne, I realized why that validation was important to him. He cradled me in his arms as he sank down beside me. We didn’t speak about the matter again. The rest of the week we worked closely with Darcy, who remained quite reluctant to put her own face on her designs. “It should be Coralie,” she would insist again and again, citing my much publicized ‘transformation’ as the reason. Finally I called in the big guns. I called Jorge Navarro. We drove Darcy to the studio lot where the hit reality show Fierce taped. It was yet another singing show, but one that promised any singer from any walk of life, with any kind of face or image, could be a superstar if the talent and the attitude were there. Several major music stars judged the show, including Giovanni Carnevale, the lead singer of the mega rock band, Dreaming in Blue. Graham Baxter of Baxter Mega-Worldwide Media Corporation produced the show, and he was quite receptive to the

plan that we had in mind to coax Darcy right out of her shell. We decided to do a media package introducing Darcy, showing her bloom into her own designs. That was the promise we planned to make to every woman of every size who walked through our doors, and what better way to show it than with the designer’s very own journey? This would endear her to the public… a very specific public that was already used to looking between the covers to find the most interesting books. This media cross promotion would be televised during their show, since Youniquely Cabot was Fierce’s brand new sponsor. Devlin had worked closely with Graham to arrange everything, from the initial pitch to closing the deal. Father had given him a big bonus as a result. We arrived to tape this media package on Friday afternoon, when many of the current contestants were rehearsing their songs for the upcoming week ahead. I ushered Darcy back to Jorge’s magic kingdom, which was draped in black lace and silk, the entire room hazy with patchouli incense. “There you are,” he greeted Darcy right away with a powerful hug. “So good to meet another fairy godmother. Or whatever,” he grinned, referring to his ambiguous sexuality. Most assumed he was gay. Some lucky few knew how straight he was. Either way he was talented and beautiful… with a true knack for making everyone else feel

likewise. We stayed in his lair for most of the afternoon. He cut Darcy’s wiry rusty tresses so that they hung straight, rather than fly in all sorts of directions in haphazard curls. He then gave her bright copper highlights, to brighten her complexion and give her face a softer, sweetheart shape. While her hair color set, he went through the clothing options she had brought. “Too safe,” he told her. “You need to be as visible as your clothes, honey. Don’t be afraid of any of it. Always do you. The world will find a way to accommodate. Simply don’t give them a choice.” He took one of the dresses and held it up. He nodded decisively before he took his scissor and pins from the counter and fashioned a more daring design on the fly. He handed it off to a seamstress while he turned Darcy around to face him so he could work on her makeup. He applied subtle pinks to her eyelids, to bring out her green eyes. He shaped her eyebrows. He lined her lips and her eyes. He even applied a hint of blush to her cheeks, which made them look more slender. Jorge was very pleased with himself as he announced, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” When he turned her around to the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. The ever-present camera recorded everything, including her happy gasp when she realized that pretty girl looking

back at her from the mirror was her. I knew how that felt, so I couldn’t help but shed a tear of happiness for her. We then were ushered out to the auditorium where all the performances were taped. It was empty, which meant that Darcy and I could walk right down to the front row for the best seats in the house. The stage was dark. We couldn’t make out a thing. Then, out of nowhere, someone began to play Pretty Woman on an electric guitar. A spotlight landed on Yael Satterlee, the lead guitarist of Dreaming in Blue. He improvised a bit, extending the intro, drawing out the anticipation until finally Giovanni Carnevale–or Vanni, as he was commonly known–jumped out of the shadows wearing nothing but skin-tight leather pants to launch into the song. His feet were bare. His hair was long. He wore rings on every finger and cuffs on either wrist. He, too, had perfected his smirk, which he employed liberally as he sang to his captive audience of two. He stalked the stage with swagger. I bought the rock star act completely. I knew it because the minute he hopped down from the stage and approached us, my heart began to race and I nearly squealed in spite of myself. He pulled Darcy up to him, so he could croon to her

personally. She blushed and looked away, the perfect picture of innocence. I knew the camera would be kind and the viewing audience would be smitten. Never one to leave anyone hanging, Vanni grabbed my hand as well, pulling me up to sing to me, before he returned to a stage full of models of every shape and size, all wearing Darcy’s designs, all working the stage like a runway. By the time the song ended, we knew that we had cashed our golden ticket. Graham joined us after the lights went up. “That was perfect. Absolutely perfect.” We nodded. We felt that way too, even Darcy. I looked around for Dev, sorry that he had missed so much of it. “Where’s Devlin?” I finally asked. Graham chuckled as he pointed behind me towards the darkened stage. A spotlight fell on a grand piano, where Dev sat straight and proud in his Cabot suit, which was open at the collar. He began playing Pretty Woman on the piano, but this time the tempo was slowed dramatically, to turn the peppy rock song into a heartbreaking ballad. I gasped when I felt two arms lift me up onto the stage. Vanni had virtually picked me up like a rag doll, to boost me the three steps separating me from Devlin. I walked to the edge of the piano, where I stood as he crooned to me. He begged me to give my love to him so earnestly, I wondered momentarily what

kind of message he was sending. After the last notes echoed away into nothingness, the rest of the audience exploded into riotous applause for his amazing performance. Graham joined us on stage to clap him on the back. “I really wish you’d let me produce your album, Dev. You’re outstanding. Charismatic. Talented. You belong on the world’s biggest stages, not some boardroom.” Dev rose from the piano to join me at my side. “Maybe someday,” he dismissed as he wrapped an arm around me. “I’d never want to leave my beautiful bride.” Graham smiled warmly at me. “I can certainly see why.” He turned back to Dev. “But if you ever change your mind, all it would take is a phone call.” They shook hands and Devlin escorted both Darcy and I out to dinner to celebrate our victories. Though she was stunning, Darcy still gathered into herself as we sat in the Hollywood hot spot on Sunset Boulevard. It was as if every single person that walked past her frightened her, like they posed a new threat. I hated to think what her past must have been like, to paralyze her with that kind of fear. She ran back to Vegas the next day, claiming that she didn’t want to leave her mother for more than a week at a time. I wanted to reach out to her, but Devlin, as always,

discouraged it. “Some skeletons deserved to stay buried,” was all he would say. As it turned out, her backstory was just as off-limits as his own. How I wished that Devlin would have shared her story with me, but he always managed to change the subject, usually distracting me with sex. My newest ovulation cycle was nearly upon us, and Devlin was sure that this was the month that we could conceive our child. Despite Caz’s dire warning, I couldn’t help but get caught up in Devlin’s excitement. He wanted a baby. My baby. If that wasn’t enough to convince me, the new cycle showed that showed should we conceive that Sunday, on the 6th, it would give me a brand new due date: May 29. Our anniversary. Screw Caz and Suzanne. Not only would we get past New Year’s Eve, we’d make it all the way to our first anniversary–where I would bear our firstborn child. That Sunday I woke up to breakfast in bed and roses all over the room, with our favorite songs playing on a loop while we stayed in bed all day, making love and planning our future. He made it special and romantic, like he made almost everything in my life. We even made love in our back yard that night under the stars, where we cuddled in a sleeping bag under our stately sycamore

trees, daydreaming about a May baby. He still insisted it was a girl. I didn’t care either way. I just wanted to have his baby. Then, no matter what anyone ever tried to do again, we would be bonded for life. Linked together like an unbreakable chain. Despite Caz’s warnings, I knew that Suzanne was much too smart to risk her entire future in politics, particularly one that possibly included the White House, on an old grudge. She wouldn’t cause harm to our child. The stakes were just too high, I wouldn’t even entertain the thought. And I wouldn’t let Caz go on about it either. Thankfully, with Gretch there on Wednesday afternoons, there was little he could do. He did try his best to manipulate me, insisting we needed to do laps in the pool rather than simply work out in the house, to ‘fully utilize our resources.’ For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t embarrassed by how my body looked in a bathing suit. It was a one-piece I had purchased right off the rack at the store, something I could do now that I was a size-10. It wasn’t anything as fun as I wanted it to be, so I had already sent an email to Darcy to get her marvelous brain working on ideas for the following spring, when Youniquely Cabot would launch its’ first bathing suit line for bikini season. I joined Caz at the pool and shrugged out of the fluffy

terrycloth robe I used as a cover-up. When I turned to face him, his eyes lingered over my body. He wasn’t smug. He didn’t smirk. I knew instantly that he had finally found me worthy of his desire. I decided to dive right into the pool. He dove in right afterwards, swimming over to me. “My pussycat is a mermaid,” he said, trying to reclaim a bit of his swagger. “Who’d have thought?” “I’m not your anything,” I reminded him before I pushed off for the other side of the pool. “You keep telling yourself that, CC,” he murmured as he followed. We swam for a good hour before he finally decided we could do some mat work on the lawn. “I should go dry off,” I said as I slipped back into my robe. His eyes bored into mine. “But I like it better when you’re wet.” I sighed before I stalked toward the guest bathroom just inside the house, where I dried off and changed into something a little less revealing. Now that someone liked what they saw, and made no effort to hide it, I found it unnerving. Especially since that someone was someone like Caz Bixby. Devlin arrived a little before eight, when Gretch was plating

our food. Again Caz departed without pushing any buttons. I figured that the scene back at the apartment, right before Dev punched a hole through the wall, had scared Caz straight. He preferred to play with me instead. Despite his comments, and the open, hungry way he would look at my body, he behaved himself for the next week. This was good, considering we had so much left to do to launch Youniquely Cabot. Darcy was back in town by Monday, and back in Vegas by Friday, and I was fielding every interview that she wanted to avoid– which was all of them. I didn’t really know how we were going to fix any of that. “Let me talk to her,” Oliver finally offered, and he took her to lunch one afternoon. They were gone for hours, but when they returned, Darcy finally agreed to her first interview. These were the leadership skills that Father recognized when he hired him. And together we all worked as a team to make it happen. September would have worked out to be perfect, had my period not arrived on the first day of autumn. For some reason, this disappointment hurt worse than all the rest. I really wanted to give birth to our baby on our anniversary. How could it be more perfect? But nature was definitely working against us. Despite our plans, fate was definitely trying to show us who was boss, with

another rough period that my doctor chocked up to my cycles normalizing after a year on birth control. I began to hate my period and everything about it. I decided to skip the festivities for Fashion Week, because I just couldn’t fake that everything was fine. I skipped out on that Wednesday working out with Caz, too. I couldn’t bear to see his hateful face or hear all those spiteful words. Everything between Dev and me had fallen so neatly into place. I didn’t need Caz Bixby to make me wonder if maybe this wasn’t happening because it just wasn’t meant to be. Whether it was my hormones just going haywire or not, something just felt wrong. When I talked to Lucy about it, she did her best to assuage my fears. But she was busy with her own baby. They did an ultrasound, which revealed they were having a son. They still hadn’t worked out a name, but Lucy was beside herself as she shopped for every boy thing under the sun. I tried a couple of times to go with her, but every cute little outfit I selected mocked my inability to produce a child of our own. It only made me feel even shittier, which made me feel guilty, which made everything a hundred times worse. I found myself not wanting to go anywhere, do anything or see anyone, even after my period. Dev tried to be understanding, but he, like

Lucy, believed it was just a matter of time, and that stressing about it would only prolong everything else. Oddly the only person I didn’t have to pretend everything was okay with was Caz, who showed up every Wednesday just like clockwork. He was working hard for his $250,000. “Too bad you’ll never see it,” I told him as I swam beside him for my lap. “Famous last words,” he dismissed. “I’m rarely ever wrong about these things.” “You’re such a pompous dick.” “What do you want me to be, CC? Falsely modest? That’s fake. And I don’t do fake.” I chortled to myself. “Says the man who pretends for a living.” “People see what they want to see, pussycat,” he grinned. “Even you. Even when it’s not good,” he added before he swam away, forcing me to swim after him. “So you’re saying I want chaos?” He was the second man to accuse me of this. It was getting really old. “You thrive on it, baby. Just embrace it. Set the world on fire and watch it burn. It’s okay.” I shook my head as I swam away. This time it was him who chased me. “Still trying to be that good girl, I see. When are you going

to figure out that isn’t you? Face it, sweetheart. There’s a part of you that needs the darkest part of us. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” I glared at him before I climbed out of the pool. That was our relationship, push and pull, friendly–or at least tolerant–enemies. But his results were undeniable. Thanks to the introduction of swimming in our routine, I finally shed those last ten pounds, mostly because I found a reason to get in the water every single day. Swimming was the only thing that helped take my mind off of everything else. There was something very simple and very comforting about completing laps, which seemed to scratch some kind of OCD itch. Every time I got into that pool, I had a solid objective that was well under my control to complete. This made exercise, for the first time in my life, a therapeutic way to handle everything else that was going on in my life. Not surprisingly, also for the first time in my life, I finally fit into ‘medium’ clothes right off the rack. I still had a problem finding clothes that fit my particular figure, with a bust that didn’t bother shrinking along with the rest of my body, holding me steady at a size 8, the kind that actually made men look twice when they passed me on the street. I finally “fit in” enough to be noticed. Funny how it didn’t

make me any happier. By the time the first fall event came up at the club on October 9th, I did feel a little more confident about stepping out with my gorgeous husband. It was hard not to, given all the positive attention I drew these days. Personally I would have rather stayed home in bed with him, given I was due to ovulate any day. I was determined to make this month our month. But of course our social calendar was dominated by yet another command performance arranged by both Sylvia and Suzanne, so attendance wasn’t optional as far as Father was concerned. As such, Dev likewise as highly motivated to attend the festivities. I probably wouldn’t have gone at all, had it not been for that damnable Caz, who planted it in my head that Suzanne was going to be at the event all by her little lonesome. “I wouldn’t leave her alone around your man if I were you.” And so I didn’t. I showed up on his arm, wearing another fabulous Darcy creation that had all the press buzzing by time we stepped out of our car. We smiled for every camera before we made our way inside. Everyone who was anyone was there, so I found myself

networking right alongside Devlin, who worked the room from the moment he walked in the door. Much to my dismay Caz was also there, on the arm of a very wealthy older woman. I wondered how many other beautiful men in that room were being paid to be there. For that matter, how many beautiful women were being paid, in one form or the other, to be there? Was Caz right? Were they all indulging their darker desires in private, while keeping a respectable public face? Were we all freaks deep down? I finally sat at the table with Father, joining Oliver, Margot and Aubrey. We enjoyed a fabulous meal and live musical entertainment, but my mood took a nosedive when once again Suzanne used Youniquely Cabot and her ongoing work in her husband’s campaign to weasel Devlin away from us, pulling him away from me for most of the party. It was yet another power play, and I supposed I should have been used to it, but with everything else going on I had reached my limit of tolerance. The window was quickly closing on yet another chance to conceive, and Devlin was off playing nice with Suzanne Everhart. Caz found me fuming by the chocolate fountain, where I applied sugar liberally on the hurt. Suzanne snapped her fingers and

Dev always went running, despite it all. Despite the life that we now lived in Brentwood, where we finally had a chance to be happy, doing all the things we needed to do for Darcy and for Cabot’s, even conceiving our child. Suzanne still came first. When she was in town, it was her show. When she was in town, everything changed. “You okay?” I glared at him. “What do you think?” At least he had the decency to look contrite. “Come on,” he said as he pulled my arm. I held back. “Where?” “We need to talk,” he said at last. “And it should be private.” I glanced around for Dev, whom I spotted standing close to Suzanne as they chatted with a powerful Hollywood player who supported her campaign. They were schmoozing hard and boozing harder, swallowing gulps of expensive champagne (ours,) while they talked politics. Dev was so immersed in the conversation he hadn’t even glanced my way. With a sigh, I allowed Caz to walk me out of the club and down a quiet darkened pathway just outside. All the noise inside reduced to a hum. I turned to face him. “What now, Caz?” He sighed. “I just wanted…,” he started but then trailed

off. “Things are different now than they were a few months ago. A few months ago this was fun. You were feisty, and I liked that. It kept Suzanne happy, and I really liked that. I sold my soul to the devil the very first favor I accepted from her. It’s like owing the mafia. The minute she shows you a kindness, you belong to her. And I’ve been on her chain for a long, long time.” I rolled my eyes. I was so fucking sick and tired of hearing how powerful Suzanne was. “So break the chain.” Another sigh. “I wish I could. It’s too late for me, CC. But you have a chance. Get the hell away from her. From me. From Dev. If you don’t, things will go bad really quick. They always do. And I just don’t want to see that happen to you.” “Why do you care, Caz? Really?” “Look, I know I’m an asshole, okay? Normally I don’t give a shit about people. It’s one of the perks of being me. But you got in, CC. You worked so hard to make all this happen. I walked into your Father’s mansion all those months ago I really did see this meek little kitten who was at the mercy of all the lions in the den. I thought you would be easy. I was wrong. And I’m very rarely ever wrong.” He reached for a tendril of my hair, caressing the silky strands between his finger and his thumb. “I like that you proved me wrong. It excites me when I think of you. And I know if I keep

coming by your house week after week, I’m going to find a way to get you into bed. I won’t stop. I don’t stop. That’s what Suzanne’s counting on. She needs to break you. She needs to show Devlin that you are just like everyone else. Just like her.” I pulled my hair from his grasp. “Why can’t she just leave me alone? Why can’t you?” “As long as blood is pumping, her teeth are going to be in that jugular, CC. Me too. We’re not nice people. We’re not good people. We play the game and that’s it.” “Thanks for being honest, I guess,” I said as I started to push past him. He grabbed my arm and held me close. “I’m the only one with the balls to be honest with you, Coralie. And you know it.” I bit back any reply as I stared up at him. “So say what you’re going to say, Caz.” He looked around to make sure the coast was clear before he bent closer, to speak softer. “The one thing you need to know about Devlin is that he is just as chained to Suzanne as I am. He always has been, even after all that shit went down. Even then she was shooting her pistol at his feet and making him dance. She told him he should go be a gigolo, since fucking was the only thing he was good at, and so he did. At first it was to spite her, but then he found himself bound by those very rules he had hoped would keep

him safe. Fuck the highest bidder. No attachment. But there is nothing but attachment when someone holds your livelihood in their hands. When she calls, he has to go running. His survival depends on it.” My stomach fell. “So you’re saying she kept hiring him, even after Las Vegas?” “Yes,” he finally said. I tried to pull away but he held me fast. “I told you before, she creates financial dependence. She can. Between her family fortune and Harvey, she’s got more money than God. It was easy for her to set everything up. She worked through our agency, doubling his asking rate, making it impossible for him to turn her down. When she comes calling, everything stops. He would drop a dozen clients just to make her happy. And I know he does it, because I do it too.” I shook my head. This was a lie. It had to be. “I don’t believe you.” Then he aimed right for the bullseye. “Who do you think pays for that apartment downtown, CC?” I struggled even harder. “I don’t believe you!” I said again. “Why do you think he worked overtime to win her back after you tried to send her packing? She’s infiltrated his entire life,

CC, to the point he can’t take a breath without her. She’ll never let him go. And he’ll never stay away. He’ll never fully belong to anyone but Suzanne.” “He doesn’t need her anymore,” I spat. “He doesn’t need her money. He doesn’t need her stupid apartment. He’s with me now.” “And yet, you can’t fully trust him, can you? How many times did he leave that apartment without ever telling you where he was going? How many hours has he spent away from you, unable or unwilling to account for his time?” His voice lowered. “How many times has he stayed gone all night long, CC? How many overnight trips to Las Vegas, where she lives?” I gulped hard as I struggled against him. He was such a hateful little prick… I just wanted to bash his face in. He captured my fists and twisted them behind my back. “She has a hold on him, CC. One that no one has ever broken, including you. Remember Vegas?” he asked softly. “Who do you think interrupted your first week with him? A week you paid for?” I stopped struggling as I stared at him. “What?” “I work at the same agency, remember? You think that was an accident, too? I’m just one more of Suzanne’s chains around his neck. Whenever anyone threatened her stranglehold on

him, like say, a famous clothier’s daughter, who had the money to whisk him away for a week, in the city where it all started, it was my job to tell her. To warn her, so she could double down on her investment. So she’d never have to let him go.” Tears welled in my eyes. “I don’t believe you,” I said again, but this time much softer, and much less convincingly. He softened. “You don’t have to believe me for it to be true, sweetheart.” He glanced toward the building, where the party raged on. “She’s staying at Devlin’s apartment this weekend while she’s in town. At some point Devlin is going to make an excuse to go see her, even if you do manage to ovulate this weekend.” I gasped as I stared up at him. “Why do you think all the workouts have been at your house, CC? I’m keeping an eye on you. On Dev. Just like Vegas.” My head reeled. I was absolutely speechless. “First he’ll try to persuade you. If that doesn’t work, he’ll either pick a fight with you or he’ll say it’s business, something that takes your choices away and keeps you complacent. But no matter what, he will find a way to snap to her command. And when he does, you can finally find out for yourself what kind of man you married.” He withdrew a key from his pocket and held it in front of me. It was clearly a spare key for the downtown apartment, denoted by the shiny gold color. I gulped past the giant rock in my

throat. That he possessed it at all proved that Suzanne had given it to him, because I knew damn sure that Dev never would. This suggested he was telling the truth–the horrible, horrible truth. It dangled for a long moment before I snatched it away. “I know what kind of man I married,” I insisted through the damnable tears that insisted on falling. “I believe that you think you do. I know that you want to believe in him, CC. It’s a fairytale fantasy, lifted right from the pages of a romance novel. That wasn’t an accident either. Real life is more complicated.” He cupped my face with his hand, capturing the tear on his thumb. “And he’s not worth your tears, Coralie.” Finally I pulled away from him and stalked down the path back towards the party. The minute I entered, my eyes scanned the room until they came to rest on my family table, where Suzanne sat next to my father. Devlin sat on the edge of her chair. It was an unmistakable sign of intimacy. He didn’t look put upon in any way. He charmed with a smile and laughed easily as he participated in the conversation. It was a legitimacy that Suzanne had denied him… and I had given him. How could he ever want anyone but me? I walked over to the table, where I plastered my biggest,

fakest smile on my face before I slipped right into Devlin’s arms. I sent her a pointed glare. “Thank you for keeping my sweetie company, Mrs. Everhart. I know you must be terribly lonely at these events without your husband.” She smiled easily. “These things can be such a bore, but your family, and your husband in particular, make for welcome company.” I cuddled closer to Devlin. “Well, I might be biased, but I’ve always thought so. In fact, I think I’m the luckiest woman on earth.” I reached for a more intimate kiss, which surprised Devlin, but he indulged. As I pulled away, I was treated to the cold black depths of her glare. She looked like a shark about to swallow all of us whole. “Marriage certainly does agree with you, dear,” she allowed, albeit begrudgingly. “So many changes in such a short period of time. I don’t know how you do it,” she added with a sickly sweet smile. I decided to go for the kill. “Yeah, there were a lot of changes, with a lot more to come. We’ve got this new line of clothing, a new home, a new life,” I added as I squeezed him tight. “Soon it will be time for the next step. And I can’t think of anything better than having Devlin’s baby.” The minute my eyes met Devlin’s, whose green depths

warned I was skating on thin ice, I knew that Caz had been telling the truth about the pregnancy scare between them, which meant he was possibly telling the truth about everything else. That Devlin looked like a hunter caught in his own trap only made my paranoia worse. Both the angel and devil on my shoulders were shocked silent by these new events. Suddenly it made sense why I wasn’t getting pregnant. The universe knew something I didn’t. Apparently I had been living a lie for four months. “A baby is a big responsibility,” Suzanne cautioned. “And you certainly don’t want to ruin that cute little figure you have now.” “I’m not worried about that,” I dismissed. “Devlin loves me just the way I am, whatever that might mean. Right, honey?” Devlin stared at me for a long moment before he finally said, “Always.” “She lost the weight once,” Father decided. “She’ll lose it again. Children. That’s what’s important.” I could feel Devlin staring down into my face. I knew he was displeased, but I didn’t care. If what Caz said was true, then my whole marriage had been a lie. My whole relationship with Devlin had been a lie. He no longer got to punish me for it for not believing it.

“We should really get going,” I said with regret as I pulled Devlin by the hand. “Nonsense,” Father said. “You just got here.” “I know but I’m exhausted and there’s still so much left to do on the house. I don’t know why but I just feel like I need to nest,” I said, staring pointedly at her. I didn’t have to be pregnant for her to think that I was. I looked up at Devlin. “Coming, honey?” His eyes narrowed as he watched me, as if figuring out what I might be up to. “Of course,” he finally said. We passed Caz on the way out the door. I could tell by the five second stare down they had as they crossed paths that Devlin had pieced together where I had gotten my information about Suzanne. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give it to me. His priority was to protect her, he said it himself. He was quiet as we drove back to Brentwood. So was I. I decided to play my cards close to the vest as well. He had one very important weekend to prove to me that our love was real and our marriage was legitimate. The only thing that mattered that weekend was conceiving our child and starting our family. He needed to put me first over Suzanne, or it was over. We entered the house together without saying a word. Only after the door shut did he pivot and pin me right up against it.

“What the hell was that all about back there, Coralie?” My chin jutted out. “Trying to get you away from that snake so we can make a baby together. What’s wrong with that?” His fists curled next to me. “How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t fuck with Suzanne like that? You are playing with fire.” “Like a moth to a flame, I guess,” I shrugged. “I just have one question for you, Devlin. Do you love Suzanne Everhart?” His eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. “I love you. How many ways to I have to prove it to you?” “Just one. Tell me the truth. One question. One answer. That’s it.” He stared down at me as he waited. Finally I said, “Have you fucked that woman since we met?” He pushed away from the door. “Jesus fucking Christ, Coralie.” It was his usual reaction, so this time I had been expecting it. He got mad and deflected, without ever answering my questions at all. “Is that a yes?” He swung back around and pushed me up against the door, crushing my mouth under his, if nothing but to shut me up. His fingers curled into my skin as he pulled me closer. He easily ripped my dress, exposing my flesh for his wandering hands as he lifted me up against the door. He released himself from his trousers just as he

lifted my skirt. “You want a baby?” he growled. “Let’s make a baby.” He positioned himself in between my legs as he braced me against the door. “This is all that matters, Coralie. Do you understand? You are my wife. Now and always. And you will trust me.” I didn’t respond yay or nay, so he thrust himself inside of me to stake his claim. I practically bit my lip in two, withholding my scream. I couldn’t give one inch otherwise he would distract me like all the times before. Instead I clamped my mouth shut. I refused to relent. He couldn’t just fuck away the problem this time, and we certainly weren’t going to conceive our child this way, even though he used all his best moves. He employed all his prowess. “Tell me you trust me, Coralie.” In the end I found that it didn’t matter what he did or said. Because of Suzanne Everhart, I couldn’t trust my husband. It was high time he knew that. “That would make a liar out of both of us.” He stumbled backwards, slipping from my body. I slid down the door to my feet. Without another word, he shoved himself back into his pants, grabbed his keys from the bowl and slammed out the front door.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN I didn’t chase after Dev right away. I couldn’t. I needed to hold onto my dreams just a little while longer, long enough to take a test and confirm what I somehow knew–that I was, in fact, ovulating. This might have been happy news, but I couldn’t get Caz’s words out of my head. Every time I blinked, I saw Devlin and Suzanne fucking on his bed. On my bed. The bed he brought me to as his new bride. The apartment we had shared. Nothing about that apartment had been perfect before, but it was all tainted now. If I found out that Devlin had never stopped sleeping with Suzanne, and that she was the client he hooked up with in Vegas when we were supposedly falling in love, it would unravel every thread of truth I thought connected us. I had fallen in love with him that next day, when he took me to see his mother, when he told me the truth about what had happened, and expressed remorse. Had it all been a lie? “I hated going on that date yesterday. She wasn’t you. She wasn’t fun. It wasn’t special. And for the first time in three years, all I could think about was the person I really wanted to

be with, which wasn’t fair to any of us.” Had I really given him credit for being honest with me? There was only one way to answer these troubling questions once and for all. I had to go to that apartment and see for myself. A key that Dev didn’t know I had burned a hole in my hand, growing hotter with each passing minute. As the clock inched closer to midnight, I couldn’t stand the uncertainty and the doubt any longer. I got in my car and I headed downtown. One of two things would happen. Either I’d find him with Suzanne, which would effectively end our marriage, or I’d find him alone, drinking away yet another argument that I could end simply by telling him I was ovulating. I’d either be divorced or I’d be a mother. The stakes were that high. I parked in my familiar spot. I stared at my gold reflection in the elevator as I rode up to the 15th floor. I walked the few feet towards the door, which was locked. Quickly and silently I slipped my key in the door and eased it open. The living room and dining room were both dark, but there was a light on in the bedroom, and I could hear music coming from the other room. Someone was here, and I was fairly certain it wasn’t

Darcy. I walked softly towards the bedroom door, where I could hear voices. I recognized the deep timbre of Devlin’s voice immediately. My stomach fell when I could make out the slight southern lilt of the feminine voice that spoke just low enough I couldn’t make out the words. I stepped closer. The door was slightly ajar, so I peaked in that tiny sliver. There, on my bed, the bed I had slept with Devlin for months, was Suzanne Everhart. Her wrists were bound with a couple of silk ties, just like I had been once upon a time. The rest of her was bound by rope tying her to the bed, ass up, legs spread, rough rope crossing across enormous swaying tits, leaving rope burn gashed into her tender skin. I heard a loud smack and she cried out. This made Devlin chuckle. Slowly I opened the door, and there was my husband, fucking this hateful cunt from behind. His hands were on her hips, bracing himself as he thrust himself into her like the powerful alpha he had learned to be. He didn’t appear to be on her chain at all. She was on his, completely prone and helpless under him. He ran his hand along her reddened backside before he delivered another forceful smack with a studded leather riding crop. “Tell me you like it,” he commanded.

“I love it,” she cried. “I love you.” He chuckled again. “That’s my good girl.” My voice strangled in my throat as I watched them. I felt my heart shatter into a million irreparable pieces. Everything I thought we shared died in that moment. “Devlin,” I finally croaked. He swung to face me, his eyes wide with shock. He withdrew immediately, and I realized that he wore no condoms with Suzanne. He didn’t have to. Apparently he didn’t want to. That meant every single boy toy she had sex with, I had had sex with. I instantly turned to vomit in the trashcan by the door. “Coralie,” he called as he wrapped himself up to chase after me. “Coralie!” “Stay away from me!” I screamed as I ran from the room. He tackled me in the hallway and we crashed to the floor. “Baby, please,” he begged, but I couldn’t bear to hear one more word. “Fuck you!” I screamed as I struggled to get away from him. “How could you do this to me? You fucking asshole!” “Coralie, listen. It’s not what it looks like.” “Not what it looks like?! You were fucking her, Devlin!” I started wailing with my fists as I repeated that last sentence over

and over again. He took every punch. “Baby, listen to me. You have to trust me,” he started, but it was the absolute wrong thing to say. “Trust you?! How the fuck am I supposed to trust you? You lying, cheating son of a bitch! I fucking hate you, Devlin Masters!” “Coralie,” he implored as he held me. “Please. Please believe me, baby. I never wanted to hurt you.” I yanked away and scrambled toward the door. He pulled me back with one strong hand, covering me with his entire body. There were actual tears in his voice when he said, “I’m not going to let you go.” “You have no choice!” I spit as I tried to buck him off of me. “Baby, I love you. Please believe me. I love you.” “Which baby?” I spit. “The highest fucking bidder?” “You, Coralie. You. It’s always been you.” “Then why were you fucking her?!” A deep sob wrenched from his throat. “It’s not about us.” “Devlin,” a voice called from the other room. “You’re going to need to untie me. Now,” she added in a voice that welcomed no argument, despite the fact she was practically bound head to toe.

It was the ultimate fork in the road. He could fight for me. Or he could go running to her. He stared into my eyes for a long moment. What should have been an easy decision clearly tortured him. I knew my marriage was over when he dragged himself away from me and headed back to his bedroom, where Suzanne Everhart waited. That was my chance to escape and I took it. I left that high-rise apartment, and my husband, four months after I married him. It was over. I was Coralie Masters no more.

CHAPTER NINETEEN I returned to my house in Brentwood that evening, but only to pack a few belongings. I couldn’t bear to stay in that monstrosity of a home that would never be filled with the sounds of our children. The egg releasing in my womb would die alone and unrealized, just like all the ones before it. Just like me, I thought to myself. I just wanted to go back to Bel Air, to Father, and to my old life. As unsatisfying as it had all been, it had never crushed me like loving a naughty stranger had. I remembered how his face looked as he fucked Suzanne, the tight smile of satisfaction as he slapped her ass, fucking her hard, making her beg. It wasn’t about the woman he was with. It was about him. Why hadn’t I seen that before? That was the life he wanted. Clearly. He had done nothing but sabotage everything we had from the time we returned from Las Vegas. Hell, before we returned from Las Vegas. He had fucked her in Las Vegas. He had never been faithful to me. Not from the first

moment we met. No matter how much money I paid him. And he had let me stay in that apartment, even though she was the one footing the enormous bill. From the moment I had walked through the front door, I knew something wasn’t right. “Did you ever bring clients here?” “I told you I don’t answer those kinds of questions, Coralie.” “What could it hurt? It’s not like you’re going to do it anymore.” “Yes, I fucked other women here. Is that what you want to hear? But they weren’t clients, okay?” “Okay.” Okay, I said. Okay. With that one little word I had surrendered defeat over and over again, to prove myself to someone who had never once proved himself to me. I submitted, accepting complacency, buying each and every line. I gave up my dignity and my common sense to love someone. How stupid was I? I was blinded by my tears as I packed a couple of suitcases, working as fast as I could. I didn’t want to see Devlin again. I couldn’t see him again. I took only what I couldn’t live without, leaving behind anything that might remind me of our doomed love affair. Finally, before I left, I pulled my rings from my left hand. I held the peridot in my hand for a beat longer than

necessary, losing myself in the bright green depths of the stone. It was my birthstone, but once upon a time I had hated it. Alien puke, I called it. Now all I could see were the bright green depths of Devlin’s eyes the minute he spotted me in that doorway, catching him in the act, toppling his house of cards with one anguished gasp. I placed both rings on the nightstand on his side of the bed. Let it haunt him the same way that vision would always haunt me. I returned home to Petit Paradis, arriving a little after midnight. I sent a text to Gretch, so she could be aware. Tomorrow I’d have to tell everyone the truth of how wrong I’d been, how badly I had been fooled. I supposed the silver lining was that I wasn’t pregnant, nor would I be. Devlin Masters had effectively killed every single dream. Likewise I killed a bottle of vodka while taking a long bubble bath. It would take years of scrubbing to erase his touch from my skin. He had branded my soul, only to destroy it. Why had he done this? What had he hoped to gain? Some job at Cabot’s? A big break for his sister? “He could have had it all without having to marry me.” “That might be true if all he wanted was money.”

“So what does he want?” “Revenge.” I drained the bottle, allowing the blissful alcohol intoxication take over. I nearly blacked out in the tub. Finally I crawled from the water, shriveled like a prune. I reached for my robe before stumbling towards the bedroom. I nearly screamed when I realized that Devlin Masters sat on my bed. “Get out!” He shook his head as he rose to face me. “You’re coming home, Mrs. Masters.” He approached with an ominous expression. I squealed when he picked me up easily in his arms. I flailed and kicked to make him let me go, but he just held me tighter. “Don’t fight me, Coralie.” “Let me go!” I screamed. “I swear to God I’ll have you arrested.” He grabbed me tightly, forcing me to look at him. “For what? For loving you?” I fought even harder. “How can you say you love me? You were fucking another woman!” His eyes were direct and his voice was firm. “I told you. It’s not what it looks like.”

“It looked like you were ramming your dick into her cunt,” I spat at him. “Now let me go!” “Never,” he promised before he crushed my mouth under his in a brutal kiss. The more I struggled, the more my robe pulled free. I was practically naked under him when we tumbled backward for the bed. He came down hard on top of me, pinning me to the mattress. “I love you,” he whispered against my mouth. “I know you don’t believe it, but I do. I always have. I always will. I would do anything for you, Coralie. That includes making our baby, right here. Right now.” My eyes widened as I stared up at him. “I found the test, Coralie. Nothing has to change unless we let it. We can still make our baby, we can still have our happily ever after.” I gaped at him. “You really want to conceive your child on the day your wife found you fucking another woman?” “I’ll do anything,” he promised as he held me down. “I’ll fight anyone. Even you.” “Yeah, you’ll do everything except give up Suzanne Everhart,” I snarled as I tried to wrench away. “You kept punishing me for not trusting you, and you were fucking her this whole time. This whole time! Who did you fuck in Vegas, Devlin? Tell me!” He growled as he put it all together. “So you trust someone like Caz Bixby now?”

“At least he tells me the truth,” I shot back. “That’s more than I could ever say for you.” His eyes narrowed. He leaned up over me. “Are you saying you trust him more than me?” I tipped my chin. “You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” He grabbed the covers on either side of my head and balled them into his fist. “Just how far does this trust go? Have you fucked him, Coralie? Has he touched you?” I scoffed. He had some nerve playing that game now. “What difference does it make? He’s just keeping me busy so you can do Suzanne’s bidding, right? Isn’t that how your demented little game is played?” He grabbed me hard and kissed me even harder. He tried to shove his tongue between my tightly clenched lips, but I fought him, pushing my hands against him. “You’re mine,” he growled against me. He held me down by the arms as he positioned himself over me. I glared at him. “What’s the matter, Dev? Afraid if you don’t make me fat and pregnant, I’ll actually sleep with Caz?” It was though I tossed cold water right in his face. “What did you say?” he asked in a low, ominous voice. But I didn’t care. “Come on, stud. You have to be

expecting karma to come back and bitch slap you one day. I turn into the little woman at home, barefoot and pregnant, chasing after four kids, while you get to lead the jet-set life as Suzanne’s permanent fuck-buddy. Eventually, one day, I’ll find a way to get even. How many lonely, neglected housewives have you been paid to fuck over the years, Dev?” He glared at me, his fingers cutting into my wrists. “And you already know I’m not shy about paying for what I want. That’s the benefit of being rich. Just ask Suzanne.” Devlin pulled himself off of me and off of the bed with a frustrated growl. He breathed hard as he glared down at me. “Way to pick the wrong team, baby.” I leaned up on my arms. “Don’t you get it? I’m not playing your stupid game. It’s over, Devlin.” His jaw clenched as he stared at me. Finally he said, “You did this to us, Coralie. I want you to remember that.” “There was no us, Mr. Masters,” I said softly. “There was only you.” He pivoted on his heel and stalked from my house. I was on the phone with my lawyer the next day. Because I could claim fraud, I was able to annul my marriage to Devlin Masters, which made it as though I had never been married at all. Legally speaking, anyway. Sandblasting him out of my psyche was the more difficult task.

Father naturally fired him, though I did keep mum on the sordid little details. I simply said that something in his past had become known to me, and I didn’t want it to affect the Cabot brand, which is all Father really needed to get the wheels in motion. I had no one to protect now except myself, and I was humiliated that I had both hired and married a gigolo–like an idiot. No one ever needed to know the truth. Since I was no longer married to Devlin, I was able to drop Caz like a stone, too. He didn’t even demand payment, though he had succeeded in doing what he had always threatened to do. “You did the right thing,” he had texted. “I’ll miss you, pussycat.” I deleted his number from my phone. The Darcy thing was a little more delicate. I didn’t want to see her punished, yet again, for Suzanne’s dastardly schemes. What we were doing was important work, something I had wanted to do for a long, long time. Dev had destroyed a lot of my dreams, but by God I wasn’t going to let that be one of them. But I also didn’t want to be called to the boardroom on a regular basis by her new partner, her brother, Devlin, which was what happened that very next week. I could barely make it minute by minute without either crying, kicking something, or puking from all the stress. And there I

was, sitting with Father and Oliver on one side of the conference table; Devlin, Darcy and their lawyer sat on the other. Devlin’s glare landed on me and stayed there as the lawyer explained how things would work going forward. “Things don’t have to work at all going forward,” Father reminded them all with a deep scowl. “I think under the circumstances, it would just be wiser to cut all ties now.” “Only if you’re willing to pay substantial damages.” The lawyer slid a copy of Father’s contract with Darcy across the table. “Feel free to consult with your attorney, of course, but your contract of exclusivity for Ms. Masters was for the period of one year. Since she has not broken this contract, according to the very specific terms you set, the contract is still binding. “Furthermore, my client has incurred considerable expensive commuting back and forth from Las Vegas, to attend meetings and conferences, as well as obligations with the media. Since Mr. Masters has orchestrated several successful campaigns for your company, much of your projected profit for the coming fiscal year depends on Darcy working with Cabot resources. Quite a loss for both parties, based on these figures and projections.” He slid those across the table as well. A big bold number was circled on the bottom of the page. “Bottom line, Darcy has nothing to do with the marital

discord between Mr. and Mrs. Masters. It would not only be totally unfair to punish her for their separation, it would throw her into immediately and significant financial crisis. In other words, we don’t want to take legal action to protect her interests, but we will.” I could feel Devlin’s eyes drilling holes in my skin. I cleared my throat. “We have no intention to leave Darcy hanging. You’re right. It’s not her fault what happened between her brother and Cabot’s. We fully intend to honor the contract.” “That’s good to hear,” the attorney said. “Given the delicate circumstances,” Father interjected, “certain changes will have to be made. I want no further contact between my daughter and Mr. Masters.” I glanced at Devlin, who still watched me quietly. He didn’t even flinch when Father stated that all future contact will go through Oliver. Darcy sent him a shy glance before dropping her eyes to her hands in her lap. “I’ll do it if you can promise one thing,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to do the press for Youniquely Cabot.” We all turned to her, including Devlin himself, obviously taken aback by her request. “But you are Youniquely Cabot,” Father insisted. She shook her head. “Look at her. CC is the success story,” she dismissed. Her eyes drifted to mine. “Please,” she added

softly. In her softly spoken words, I heard her screaming for help. She was afraid, and I knew she was afraid. She was afraid of failing. She was afraid of succeeding. She was afraid of being seen every bit as much as being invisible. “A big part of my success is that I meet people where they are. If you make someone feel important as they are, they reach higher than they ever thought to try. Forcing their choices, or worse, making their choices for them, generally always backfires. They have to get there on their own.” I ignored Devlin completely, but I followed his advice to the letter. “I’ll do it,” I finally decided. “I made you a promise, and I’m going to keep it.” I turned back to Devlin, whose eyes had narrowed as he glared at me. I looked away and didn’t bother looking back until they left the boardroom. “Are you sure you want to do that, CC?” Oliver asked. “That’s a lot of attention on you, especially right now while things are so chaotic.” I scoffed a bit at the term. I only thought I knew what chaos was before I met Devlin Masters. “Better me than her,” I said softly without looking at either of them. Finally I turned to Father. “I’m just glad you decided not to scrap the deal because of

everything that happened with Devlin.” “Don’t thank me, CC. Thank Suzanne.” My stomach dropped. “What? Why?” “She believes in Youniquely Cabot and she believes in Darcy. It’s a multi-million dollar idea, one that would connect her with other women all over the country.” “You mean other voters,” I sneered, suddenly sorry I hadn’t connected the dots between Devlin Masters and my father’s favorite person, Suzanne Everhart. “Potato, po-tah-do,” he said with a wave of his hand. “She wants to ride this wave all the way to the White House, and she thinks she can. And I think she can. It’s just business, Coralie.” Of course it was business. I hired a man to give my fantasy for a price. It dawned on me that I might never stop paying for that. To further scrub Devlin from my life, I decided to sell the house in Brentwood. Devlin surprised me–yet again–by buying me out, using his high-priced lawyer to handle the sale. Whether all his months as a Cabot had worked out well for him or Suzanne was using all her money to dig even deeper into his life, but I ended up with a $4,000,000 check within weeks of leaving what should have been our forever home. Lucy was ready to tar and feather him when I arrived at her house to finally cry on her shoulder about it. She burned through

about four mood swings, one right after the other, as a result. “Oh, Ceece! I’m so sorry,” she cried as she held me. “This is all my fault. I never should have suggested this. I’m such an idiot.” “You’re not the idiot. Devlin Masters is the idiot.” “Damned right he is!” she raged. “What a fucking ass clown. Someone needs to Lorena Bobbit his ass.” To Gus, who sat quietly nearby, “Where did we put those knives we got for the wedding?” “Lucy, he’s not worth it,” I encouraged, which sent her into mood swing number three: the ultimate cheerleader. “You don’t need him. You never did. You’re strong, powerful, beautiful – you can have anyone you want. Fuck him.” “No, thanks,” I mumbled. I honestly didn’t want to have sex with anyone ever again. “You leave it to me,” she said as she hugged me again. “We’re going to find the right kind of man for you. Or woman. Fuck em all!” she decided before she dissolved into more angry tears. “I just don’t understand. I thought he was the one!” she wailed. Gus finally disentangled us, whispering to me, “You’ll have to forgive her. She’s a little more excitable than usual these days.” At least Lucy Dunleavy had an excuse to be a raging psychopath. She was pregnant and hormonal.

I was simply heartbroken and stupid. I was so over all of it. I didn’t want to see him again. I didn’t even want to think about him again, though it was all I could do in those first awful weeks. Every time my phone rang, I jumped. Every time I opened the door to my home, I expected to see him leap from the shadows and once again take me into those powerful arms that had been hard as hell to forget. Every song on the radio reminded me of him. There was a memory of Devlin attached to every square inch of Cabot’s. Even Petit Paradis was haunted by his ghost. Every time I climbed into my bed, I remember his taking me there that very first night. I remembered all the pleasure. I remembered all the pain. I felt everything all at once, all the time. I ended up taking a sabbatical from work. The only thing I would commit to was publicity for the new line, simply because I had promised as much to Darcy. I used it however I could to my advantage. In the dark days following the public announcement of my annulment, I wrote a blog post about not settling for anything less than the perfect fit, and thanks to the innuendo of what that meant for my marriage, it landed with a huge splash. I got to have my say even when I wasn’t really saying anything at all. Such was PR. It was my image to sell, and I could offer as little or as much as I wanted. Everything else had to march on

without me. Oliver, thankfully, showed mercy on me by not telling me “I told you so,” every five minutes. Instead, he worked as the liaison between Darcy and me so I wouldn’t have to deal with either of the Masters if I didn’t want to. He’d often bring Chinese takeout to Petit Paradis so that we could do our work remotely, rather than at the office, just so I wouldn’t have to go in, fighting past the mob of paparazzi curious to see how the new It Girl was taking her public breakup. I just couldn’t face anyone, particularly after I had to scrub social media of all references to my ill-fated romance with Devlin. I felt the dream die all over again with every happy photo I had to delete. Telling myself that it had all been fake didn’t help much. The romance had been a fake. But the pain of that breakup was very, very real. The official press release cited “irreconcilable differences,” though annulling the marriage on the basis of fraud did get quite a few tongues wagging. I didn’t know whether to be amused or relieved that people thought that meant Devlin was gay. As long as no one connected the dots of how we really met, I didn’t really care what happened to his reputation as a result. Many fans sent their condolences, but I simply asked for a little space and privacy during this difficult time and continued to

hide out at my Father’s house. He, too, was quite generous about everything. He seemed genuinely sorry that things didn’t work out, particularly the no grandkids part. I still ached over that too, though I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe if I had a child, it wouldn’t have seemed like a waste of time. I’d still have one person who loved me, who wouldn’t go running every time some horrible woman snapped her fingers. The bitch of it was that if Devlin had committed half of his energy to building a marriage with me, rather than a fabrication of one, we would still be together. Despite it all, there was a part of me that still loved him. That missed him. That couldn’t just let it go. I spent most of October either drunk or high. I could do that now that I was an official hermit. November passed much the same way. I didn’t give a shit about Thanksgiving. I didn’t have anything to be thankful for that particular year, at least nothing that I thought I might have. The only thing I cared about was Black Friday, when we’d really test Youniquely Cabot on the market. It flew off the shelves, one of the most successful things we’d ever done. I was finally forced out of my shell by Christmas. Our calendar was full of social obligations and commitments, especially

pushing Youniquely Cabot, so I knew I couldn’t go on hiding forever. Instead I did everything possible to ensure I was sufficiently numb (and/or medicated) to my new reality. I drank even more when I had to see Suzanne Everhart’s hateful face. Sylvia had thrown another fundraiser that December, and I could hardly beg off of going considering I never told Father about her connection with Devlin, so Youniquely Cabot–and by default, its spokesmodel–were still tied to that despicable twat for the foreseeable future. I was scared as shit that Devlin would be there on her arm, but per his social media, he was spending the holidays in Vegas with his sister. Suzanne still wore that possessive smile on her face when I greeted her at that party. “Mrs. Masters, so good to see you again.” She quickly corrected her faux pas, proving it wasn’t a faux pas at all. “I’m sorry, dear. I forgot. How are you holding up?” I glared at her. “I guess that’s the one thing about being so young,” I said with a sweet smile. “I can rebound a lot easier than most.” I yanked my hand free and stalked off to find the nearest bar. I honestly didn’t want to go anywhere after that, much less the annual New Year’s Eve party at Father’s club. But I threw him a bone and volunteered to go as his date.

The last thing I wanted to do was sit in my house, alone, and think about the grand church wedding that would never be. We hadn’t gotten very far in planning our second wedding, just the date (New Year’s Eve,) and the venue (our church.) But I hadn’t been able to think of either of those things without my gut eating itself up with angst, especially the closer it got to the date. I needed the noise to distract me. And since Suzanne was spending the holidays campaigning in Nevada, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have to see her there, which was reason enough to celebrate. I could manage to make it all the way to the new year without ripping her goddamned heart out and landing straight in jail. “It’ll do you good to get out of the house,” Father had encouraged with a loving pat on my shoulder. I got more of those now that I was a smaller size. “Let them see you are a survivor.” I was tasked to do that a lot. As the face of Youniquely Cabot, I constantly posted positive statuses, (mostly empowering to other women,) and those endless photos of me living an exciting, jet-set happy life, courtesy of my newfound confidence and my fabulous new wardrobe. It was all a lie. Everything, still, was all a fucking lie. The only thing I had to show for that calendar year was Youniquely Cabot, and the fact that I had lost even more weight as

a result from all the stress. I was now half the size I was when I met Devlin. I was the one wearing a bandage dress to the New Year’s Eve party, while Lucy made her brief appearance at the party wearing something a little more forgiving. Now in her third trimester, her tiny body was in full bloom, and I envied her every goddamned day. Every single time I looked at her growing baby bump, I was reminded of all I had lost. Actually, that wasn’t true. I was reminded of things that I had never really had in the first place, which hurt even worse. None of it was mine. Not Devlin. Not my marriage. Not my home. Not my choices. Not even my chaos. Nothing. I took a deep breath as I entered the club, reminding myself that was no longer the case. I was in charge of everything now. I was lonely, sure, and I certainly hadn’t had one suitable orgasm in months, even with all my favorite toys. Memories of Devlin had wrecked even that. “If you’ve ever been fucked by someone who really wants to fuck you, then you know being wanted is better.” There had been several times during the last many weeks that I thought about just ripping the bandage off and fucking someone, anyone, to get Devlin out of my brain. I just needed new

memories to replace the old ones. I even entertained the idea of hiring another professional. I went to the websites, perused the available escorts. But with every new photo, I realized that I didn’t want anyone to pretend to be with me. I was tired of the pretense and the lies and the games. I wanted to be wanted for real. I was just self-destructive enough to go for broke that New Year’s Eve, where I showed up to the party already medicated. I smoke top-shelf herb while I got dressed. I drank nearly a bottle of champagne in the car. I decided who the fuck needed Devlin Masters, anyway? I was young. Thanks to my weight loss, I was getting more attention than ever. Words like “sexy” or “hot” defined me now, if the comments on my social media accounts were to be believed anyway. I didn’t have to spend this night alone if I didn’t want to. And suddenly, I really, really didn’t want to. A million years ago, I had gone to a website to pay someone to spend time with me. By the time I went to that New Year’s Eve party, I was ready to see what kind of fish I might reel in for free. I walked into that room preying on all the men present, to see if there was anyone suitable to take home. I could do that now. I was a free agent. There were no longer any rings on my finger.

As I scanned the room to see if I could spot anyone interesting, I nearly swallowed my tongue whole when I saw Devlin Masters standing next to some other socialite who ran in our circles. He had his arm around her, smiling down at her in that near predatory way he had… like an animal on the hunt. With a shudder I remembered when that look belonged to me. So intoxicating. So dangerous. I had lost myself because I wanted to. As if he sensed my presence, his head turned and our eyes met. Even from fifty feet away, that look was as potent as it had ever been. I rose from my chair and aimed myself for the nearest exit. I wasn’t about to stick around for this. That was when I saw Caz Bixby, who had just entered the room on another woman’s arm. Of course he would be here. Of course Devlin would. These women were their clientele, and this was the biggest night of the year. Nobody wanted to be alone on New Year’s Eve. Why had I decided to do this? I turned back to the rest of the crowd, where I realized that Devlin was stalking right towards me. I could barely breathe. He still had a vice like grip on my soul. There was no way I could be anywhere around him. I needed an escape, but Caz was behind me, and I didn’t want to see him either. There was no getting around the

crowd filing in the building. So I cut through the tables toward the stage, where I knew there was a service entrance I could use if I was desperate enough, to one of the other rooms currently not in use. Turned out I was desperate enough, because that was where I chose to escape. I closed the door behind me, but there was no way to lock it. I peered through the crack, trying to keep an eye on Devlin, sure that if he came anywhere near that door I would be a goner. I’d either kill him or I’d fuck him, and neither was a way to end the old year, or start a new one. My breath caught and held as I stared at the crowd, trying to make out the faces. A shadow passed over the door and I stepped backwards, waiting to see if he was going to follow me. The room was barely lit by the sliver of light coming out from under the main door towards the reception hall. The music faded the further away I got, until all I could hear was my breathing. When enough time had passed and I finally decided that he wasn’t going to follow me, I took a deep breath and turned around… right into Devlin Masters, who loomed large behind me like yet another wall. The bastard had cornered me, just like a goddamned raptor. I backed up a step. “What are you doing here?”

His face split apart in that damnable smirk. “Working.” “Funny. I thought you already had a job partnering with Darcy. Using your education and all,” I sneered. He offered a shrug. “What can I say? It doesn’t pay as well as Cabot’s, so I needed a little… supplemental income.” I glared at him before I turned to leave. “I won’t keep you then.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “What’s your hurry? We haven’t seen each other in a while. Don’t you want to know how I’ve been?” His soft voice sent a shiver right down my spine. “Don’t you want to know how I’ve been, Devlin?” I shot back. He pulled me closer. “You honestly think there has been one move you’ve taken in the last three months that I haven’t seen, Coralie?” I shuddered against him. I knew then that he had showed up to this party on purpose, using whatever excuse he could use to do it. If it could hurt me, all the better. “Willing to add stalking to your list of sins, I see.” “Being a sinner is what you loved most about me. Remember?” I hated the way my body reacted to the words he said, or the nearness of that unbelievable body that had taught me so many

things. I couldn’t think about it. I couldn’t allow myself to weaken, even for a second. The pain of his betrayal had dulled somewhat over the months, thanks mostly in part to my using every intoxicant I could get my hands on–anything so that I could take a breath without feeling the knife twist in my gut. But the danger surrounding this man remained. He held my arm with that vice grip, suggesting with that hungry look in his eyes that he wanted me, he needed me, he still desired me, like I could only hope. At the end of the night, however, only one woman held Devlin Masters by the chain. I could never, ever lose sight of that ever again. “So how are you doing, Devlin?” I asked, since he seemed so eager to tell me. “Fucking fantastic,” he smiled. He leaned down. “And I mean that as a verb.” I glared at him. “Suzanne must be thrilled.” “You know me, Coralie. I believe in customer satisfaction. I make sure they always come back for more.” At least he didn’t deny it. “What do you want from me, Dev?” He straightened, his hands cupping my forearms as he pulled me closer. “Nothing much. Just a little New Year’s Eve kiss.

Not quite a kiss in a church in front of a preacher, but I think we could do the holiday custom justice anyway.” Such an asshole, rubbing our aborted nuptials in my face. He wasn’t even pretending anymore. “Isn’t there some poor woman out there paying for that privilege?” “Only rich ones,” he said as he stared down at me with those narrowed eyes. “And there are two.” I practically snarled as I tried to pull away. He wasn’t having it. “But I’m willing to cut you a deal. A real holiday special, for my preferred customers only.” “Go to hell,” I spat as I struggled harder. He held me fast. “Been there and back, honey. What about you?” “I could write a book on the subject.” “I’d read it,” he said as he held me tighter. I felt his hard body press against me. “Make sure to make the sexy parts extra juicy. Like your pussy,” he whispered near my ear. I shuddered hard. “Can’t you just leave me alone, Devlin? Haven’t you done enough?” “As a matter of fact, no. I can’t leave you alone. I told you before I’m never going to let you go. No matter what legal documents say, you’re mine, Coralie. You have been since the minute I touched you.”

“And yet you belong to everyone else.” “For a price,” he acknowledged. “Man’s gotta eat.” He ran that long tongue across his even white teeth. I tried again to pull away. “I’ve gotta go back to my Father.” “Not till I get my New Year’s kiss,” he decided, fitting me neatly against his hard body, surrounding me, everywhere all at once. I could feel myself disappear in his arms, like being pulled underwater by a fierce undertow. All I could do was hold on and pray it was over quickly. He stared down into my face for a long moment. “Aren’t you going to stop me, Coralie?” “Would it matter if I did?” “No,” he answered before his mouth covered mine. Electricity shot through my body, still responding to his every command. My head swam from all the booze I’d been guzzling all night, but I knew I had to resist. I could leave that party that night with any man on my arm except for Devlin Masters. It was the hardest thing I had ever done to keep my mouth shut as he used those supple lips to torment me and tease me into submission. He pulled back, studying me thoughtfully. “You really think you can fight what you feel about me, darlin?’” I tipped my chin. “Every day of my life.”

The outer door creaked open. “Everything okay in here?” Caz asked, filling the frame of the door like a cruel joke. I turned to face him. “Everything’s great. Devlin was just wishing me a happy new year.” As I stared at Caz, I realized what I could do to put an end to this crazy ride once and for all. I had to hurt Devlin every bit as much as he hurt me, and there was only one way to do that. I had to go for the jugular, every bit as much as they all did. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Devlin. Mr. Bixby and I had a prior engagement.” To Caz, I said, “Ready to take me home and fuck me?” His eyes drifted between me and Devlin. I felt Devlin’s fingers bite into my flesh as he tried to hold onto me, but I held firm. “Born ready, pussycat,” Caz replied with a smirk of his own, knowing, finally, he had the upper hand as far as Devlin was concerned. He had finally won. I turned to Devlin, who practically shot fire from those intense green eyes. “Happy New Year, Dev. I hope it brings you everything you deserve.” With one ferocious pull, I yanked my hand free from his and walked towards Caz. I looped my arm with his and we exited the room with the resounding bang of a slammed door.

END OF BOOK TWO

After a devastating betrayal fractures the fairytale romance between Coralie and Devlin Masters beyond repair, Coralie tries to piece together a future without the man she had come to love. Devlin, however, refuses to let her go. He doesn’t give a damn if there’s a new man on her arm these days. Since that man is Caz Bixby, Dev’s sworn enemy, it only makes him even more determined to win her back. Caz is the new prince in Coralie’s fairytale, her miracle-working personal trainer who had transformed her from a meek pussycat into a sexy, confident lioness ready to take what she wants. What she really wants is her happy ending with Devlin, and Dev knows it. He digs himself even further into her world so that she can’t ignore him, or what she feels about him. He swears that he loves her, and there’s much more to the story. To get her back, he knows he has to share his many dark secrets with her. But can she ever trust him again after what he did? Can you?

The shocking secrets finally unfold in MASTERS FOREVER, Book Three of the Masters Saga, Ginger Voight’s unconventional love story that will stick with you long after the last page.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Ginger Voight is a screenwriter and bestselling author with more than twenty published titles in fiction and nonfiction. Her nonfiction works cover everything from travel to politics, while her works of fiction range from romance to the paranormal, as well as dark “ripped-from-the-headlines” topics, such as those featured in her book Dirty Little Secrets. Ginger discovered her love for writing in the sixth grade, courtesy of a Halloween assignment. From then on, writing became a thing of solace, reflection, and security. When she found herself homeless in L.A. at the age of nineteen, she wrote her first novel in longhand on notebook paper while living out of her car. In 1995, after she lost her nine-day-old son, she worked

through her grief by writing the story that would eventually become The Fullerton Family Saga. In 2011, she embarked on a new journey: to publish romance novels starring heroines who look like the average American woman. These “Rubenesque romances” have developed a following thanks to her bestselling Groupie series. Other titles, such as the highly-rated Fierce series, tap into the American preoccupation with reality TV, giving her contemporary stories a current, pop-culture edge. Ginger isn’t afraid to push the envelope with characters who are perfectly imperfect. Rich or poor, sweet or selfish, gay or straight, plus-size or svelte, her characters are beautifully flawed and three-dimensional. They populate her lavish fictional landscapes and teach us more about the real world in which we live, through their interactions with each other, and often through gut-wrenching angst. Ginger’s goal with every book is to give her readers a little bit more than they were expecting, with stories they’ll never forget. For more, please visit gingervoight.com. Follow Ginger on Twitter (twitter.com/gingervoight) and “like” her author page on Facebook (facebook.com/gingervoight) for all the latest news on her public appearances and new releases.