Cecilia, present day

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She smiled and stroked a finger down one of the yellow petals of the daffodils Colin had surprised her with. “Thank you for the flowers.”

He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d even noticed them, given the way you launched yourself at me when I opened the door.”

“You grabbed me.”

A chuckle on her spine then a sharp nip on her cheek . . . the lower one.

“Colin!”

“Mmm.” His tongue darted out to soothe the sting. “I really liked your surprise.”

She played innocent. “Me flying in?”

“Not that one.”

“The bottle of wine?”

He kissed over the rounded curve of her butt, drifting slowly down and inward. “Nope.”

“The cheese—” He licked and she broke off on a gasp.

“Uh-uh.” Another lick. Calloused fingers spreading her legs a little wider.

“My lingerie?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He pressed an open mouth kiss to her clit and she jumped, then sighed as his fingers joined the party, showing just how much he’d enjoyed the sheer lacy garter belt and bra set.

It had been a gift from the girls and it matched her eyes perfectly. It also enhanced certain other parts of her anatomy.

She’d sent them a mental thank you when Colin’s eyes had nearly popped out of his head.

Colin licked her again and any thoughts of lingerie faded from her mind. No, all thoughts faded. Her brain was hazed with the desire for more. For faster. For again, right there.

“Oh God, please do that again,” she moaned when his tongue executed some twisting movement that nearly toppled her over the edge.

And he did, but thank everything that was holy, he did it again. And again. And then once more. Until she was hurtled into space and pleasure coursed through every cell of her body.

“You’re really fucking good at that,” she said, once she’d managed to regain one half of a wit.

He grinned, like a cat that had gotten into the cream.

And he had gotten the cream, she thought with an inner cackle that would have made Bec proud.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll be smiling that way at you.”

Colin crawled up the bed, hauling her into his arms. “I didn’t do it because I wanted something in return.”

“I know.” She sighed and cuddled closer, still limp and satiated but knowing that she needed to broach this subject sooner rather than later. Cecilia really wanted the black cloud that was hanging over them gone forever. “But I like doing it and”—she prepped herself for the rapid left turn in conversation she was about to throw at him—“Colin I think we need to go see your family.”

He shuddered. “Those two topics should never be spoken about in the same sentence.”

“I—” She shook her head, smacked him across the chest. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

A brush of his fingers across her cheek. “I know. And funny that you should bring it up, but I told my mother we were coming for brunch tomorrow.”

“What?!”

“Right after I sent her an official letter from my solicitor demanding that she and Lana vacate the estate within thirty days.”

“But—”

“They’re not going to be destitute. I’ve bought them a house.” A shrug. “It’s on the other side of the country, but it’s opulent and they’ll still receive their portions of the company’s profits.” He stopped and stared down at her. “I can’t look at them. I can’t pretend to love them after all they’ve done to you. It wasn’t right.”

“They’re your family though.”

“Real family doesn’t act that way.”

Cecilia thought about her own parents, about all they’d done—and hadn’t done—and knew he was right. Jordan and Hunter, Abby, Heather, and the girls were more family than her own blood.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” He smirked, but cupped her cheek with gentle fingers. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Oh no. I definitely want to clear the air. Now about that cocky smile you were sending my way a few minutes ago,” she said, her hand snaking down his stomach.

Colin’s groan was enough to rid her of any doubt.

This was right.

They were going to make it.

Colin opened her car door then laced his fingers through hers as they walked up the drive. The McGregor Estate, informally called Rock Hill, loomed large and gloomily overhead.

She used to love those spires and the way the windows curved at their top corners.

Today it looked as bleak as she felt inside.

The last time she’d seen this place—

So. Not. Going. There.

Colin released her hand but snaked an arm around her waist, tugging her flush against his side. “I’m here.”

CeCe melted. This man . . . he was it.

The front door opened before they could knock and CeCe was surprised to see Joanne.

“Oh, look at you!” she said, running toward them to grab Cecilia’s shoulders. “You’re as pretty as ever.” Then she hugged her tight, whispering in her ear, “Did my Col make things right between you?”

“Yes.” Her lips twitched. “Now I know how he heard about the daffodils.”

Joanne winked before releasing her to hug Colin.

“Your mother and sister are in the study and . . . Olivia is there too.”

Cecilia’s heart clenched, but Colin just nodded grimly, pulled her close again, and led them inside. “Can you send a tray into the study?” he asked. “We haven’t eaten yet.”

They’d been too busy christening his shower.

And then his kitchen counter.

And the front door.

Those memories shored up her spine. She could totally do this.

But that was before they actually walked into the study, because the trifecta of beautiful and cold women standing before her was beyond intimidating.

No one spoke as Colin settled her in a chair and then sat on the arm of it.

He placed a hand on her shoulder when she opened her mouth to break the awkward silence. Wait, he seemed to be telling her.

She gave him a small nod.

Bridget was the one to cave. “How could you do this to us?” she wailed. “This stupid American bitch has you on tenterhooks again, and you’ll just throw over your family for her?”

Olivia winced, but Lana inclined her head, encouraging her mother along.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Colin’s tone was frigid and she shivered from the force of it.

“All I have to say?” Bridget pointed a bony finger at CeCe. “She—”

“Actually,” Olivia interrupted, looking extremely frightened but determined all the same. “I do have something to say.” She stood and crossed over to where Cecilia sat. “I’m so sorry. I was”—her eyes were glassy—“well, it doesn’t matter what I was. It was horrible and wrong, and you need to know that I forged—”

“Shut up!” Lana snapped. “You’re supposed to be helping, not—”

Colin leveled her with a glare that had his sister paling and clamping her mouth shut. “Go on,” he said, his tone so soft it was almost deadly.

Olivia took a deep breath, releasing it before the words poured out. “I took Cecilia’s journal and helped Lana set up an account to make it look like she was stealing. Then I sent Ewan to the church, following him with my camera so I could take pictures looking like she’d run off with him.” She bit her lip. “This is all my fault.”

“I—” What could CeCe say? It’s okay? But it wasn’t. Instead, she settled on, “Thank you for telling us.”

Olivia reached a hand out, as though to touch Colin’s arm, but the look he gave her had that palm freezing midair and returning to her side. “I was a jealous coward,” she said. “No. Worse because I didn’t confess my part in it until now.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “I robbed you of y-years. I’m so sorry.”

“We’ve all made a lot of mistakes.” Cecilia patted Olivia’s hand. “Maybe we try to move forward now?”

A tearful nod. “I’d like that.”

“Good.”

Colin flicked a dismissive glance in Olivia’s direction. “Anything else?”

She shook her head.

“Good. Leave.”

Bridget and Lana gasped. “You can’t talk to her like that,” Lana said, but Olivia just sent them one more apologetic look before leaving the room.

“What have you got to say for yourselves?” he lobbed the question to the room.

“You can’t honestly believe her,” Bridget attempted. “They must be working together—”

Colin stood, hands fisted at his sides. “Shut. Up.”

“You know what I don’t get,” Cecilia said, touching Colin’s back in an effort to calm him. Then pushed past her discomfort to ask the next question. She needed to know the answer. “Is why go through the effort? Why befriend me? Why make me feel like part of the family?”

Lana rolled her eyes, but Bridget’s were as cold as those nights in Finland. “You took him from me,” she hissed. “You were never supposed to come back.”

Cecilia snagged Colin’s hand when he would have stridden over to them. “I guess fate had different plans because I never did expect to be back here again.” She tangled her fingers with his. “But I’m so glad I am, because everything you did to tear us apart has actually made us stronger in the end.”

“You can’t take it!” Bridget shrieked. “He’s mine. The money is mine. I deserve it, not you.”

“Ah,” Colin said, sitting back down on the arm of the chair. “Then let me make it easy on you. Your money is still safe, but the only way you’ll see another pound is if you get the hell out of this house and never come back.”

“You can’t cut us out of the business’s profits,” Lana said.

Colin’s smile was wolfish. “Oh, but I can.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He shrugged as if to say, Wouldn’t I? and the smug expression on Lana’s face slipped.

“Now you can enjoy your fat inheritance far, far away from here in the home I bought for you or buy one in another bloody country for all I care, but neither of you will ever be welcome in this house again.”

“But—”

Joanne bustled in, a tray heaped with food held aloft. “Hungry, dears?”

“No,” Lana and Bridget snapped.

“Great,” Colin said, tilting his head toward the open door. “Then you can finish packing your things.”