Malik watched as Lindsay woke up and stretched. From behind her, he cupped one breast and squeezed.

She moaned and arched into his touch. “What are you doing?”

“I thought this was what you wanted.” He kissed the crook of her neck.

“How do you figure?” She angled her neck so he could cover more area with his mouth.

“Because you stuck out your breasts, arched your back, and pushed your butt in my face.” He pressed his erection against her bottom.

“I was stretching, and what you did is called jumping to conclusions.”

“Mmm. Is that what it’s called?” He slid a knee between her thighs. “Morning.”

“I’ve gotta go. I can’t with you.”

He growled his disappointment as she extricated herself from his arms and slid from the bed. She’d become addictive in a short time, and he selfishly wanted to keep her close every minute of every day. His eyes lingered on her heart-shaped bottom as she padded to the bathroom, and then Malik lounged back against the pillows, resting his head on top of his folded arms.

Being with Lindsay had turned out to be one of the best decisions he’d ever made. Not only because of the great sex, which had gotten better since he’d shown her a clean bill of health from the doctor, something he wished he’d produced sooner. But Lindsay was great for his career, too. Last night they’d attended an interview for a local TV station where she talked about her upcoming book, continuing the ruse of a fake relationship that no longer felt fake because the feelings he’d developed for her were very real.

When they’d returned home last night, the hits on his site had spiked astronomically. He sold one piece through his website, thanks to the web guy he’d hired to create a storefront. All he had to do was take photos of each new work of art and upload it with specs, details of the metals used, and set a price. Lindsay had pushed him to streamline his process, and she’d been right. Again. He couldn’t imagine his business or relationship getting any better.

Lindsay exited the bathroom, smelling like almonds and springtime. His bathroom and bed linens contained the same fragrance. To him, it was the sweetest scent in the world.

She’d put some kind of product in her short blonde hair to give it a spiky design at the top while smooth on the sides. The skirt and heels showed off her beautiful legs, and the colorful blouse dipped low enough to show a hint of cleavage without being indecent.

Malik swung his legs over the side of the bed. “So you’re leaving me.”

“Yes, I’m leaving.” She strolled over and stood between his knees, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Wish me luck.” She and her attorney had a meeting with True Amour, an online dating service interested in a partnership agreement and sponsoring her podcast. They were one of the companies she’d networked with at the Podcast Movers & Shakers reception.

“Good luck, although you don’t need it.”

“Thank you.” She dropped a kiss to his lips. “I better go. Don’t want to keep these guys waiting.” She tucked her purse under her arm and took a deep breath.

“Call me and let me know how everything went.”

“I will.” She opened the door.

“Lindsay.”

She looked back at him.

“I love you.” He meant it, from the depths of his soul. Though he’d said the words once before in a previous relationship, they never carried this much weight, this much meaning. Lindsay was the woman for him. There was no turning back.

She smiled, her hazel eyes softening and a blush tinting her cheeks. “I love you, too,” she said softly. “See you later.”

She did it!

Jaunty steps took Lindsay from the private room of the Italian restaurant where the meeting had taken place several minutes ago. She’d stayed behind to finish her glass of wine and bask in the revelation that her career had gone up another level.

The meeting with her attorney and the execs from True Amour had been very productive. True Amour agreed to promote her podcast on their website, and they would advertise on her podcast, paying a set sum for every 1000 listeners that downloaded the show. She could hardly wait to tell Malik the good news.

With her phone out, she didn’t pay attention as she wound her way through the tables.

“Lindsay!”

She halted and turned to see her mother, Gloria Winthrop, standing at a table near the window she’d just passed.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Surprised to see me?”

“A little.”

“I’m sure. Since you never call or come to visit.”

Her mother always dressed to the nines and looked quite impressive in everything she wore, like those women in the vintage black glamour shots from back in the day that were often shared online. Today was no different. She wore a dark-haired wig styled in a bob and a peach-colored two-piece suit whose top cinched at the waist and flared at the hips.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Gloria asked.

“My office.”

“Have a seat.” Gloria sat down, but Lindsay remained standing.

She didn’t want to talk to her mother, because no doubt the conversation would kill her good mood. Ever since her late teens, after her father died and resentment settled in Lindsay’s spirit, their conversations devolved into barbs and insults.

“Have a seat, Lindsay. My goodness, I haven’t seen or talked to you in months. Surely you can spare a few minutes for your mother.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lindsay dropped into the chair across from her, noting the half-eaten salad and glass of wine on the table.

“You’re quite the big star now, aren’t you? And engaged, I heard?”

Lindsay simply nodded, wondering where the conversation was headed.

“I hope he’s good to you. Perhaps one day you’ll bring him by.”

“Why would I do that?”

Gloria arched a penciled brow. “Because you’re my daughter. Is that too much to ask, that I meet the man you’re going to marry? The man you love.”

“Love? That’s not a word I’ve heard you use too often,” Lindsay said dryly.

“You think I don’t know anything about love? I know plenty about love.”

“You know plenty about selling yourself to the highest bidder.”

Gloria tutted, completely unfazed by Lindsay’s brash comment. She sipped wine. “Selling myself, as you so grossly put it, kept food on the table, shelter over your head, and clothes on your back.”

“I aspire to be like you one day. Honest and hardworking.” Lindsay sent a tight smile across the table.

“As if you’re so much better than me.”

“I earn every dime I make through hard work.”

“And you’ve never lied to your fiancé? You’ve told him everything about you?”

Lindsay diverted her gaze across the room.

“That’s what I thought. He doesn’t know, does he?”

Lindsay fiddled with the purse in her lap. “He knows about my father.”

“But not everything, I’m sure.”

“What does it matter?”

“Because you sit in judgment of me, as if I’m some kind of monster.”

“You changed my last name when you married Nina’s father,” Lindsay said.

“Well my dear, you’re a grown woman now. Why don’t you change it back to Steele?” One corner of Gloria’s mouth quirked into a triumphant smile. “Precisely. Because you want nothing to do with the man who wreaked havoc on so many people.”

Anger built inside Lindsay. “Why do you always have to badmouth him? You never loved him, did you? You loved what you thought he could do for you, and when he didn’t deliver, you bailed on the marriage.”

Abe Steele’s money-making schemes had been enough to win Gloria, but then she learned he was actually broke. He had a mountain of debt, and they were eventually forced to downsize from a mansion in an exclusive neighborhood to a two-bedroom apartment. Instead of shopping at exclusive boutiques, they bought necessities at a local department store. For almost two years, there were no servants or drivers or weekly hair appointments. Lindsay didn’t remember those times because she’d been so little, but their “struggle” ended when Gloria met her second husband, Tyrus Winthrop, Nina’s father and heir to the Winthrop family of hotels.

“I can pay my own bills and take care of myself fine, without a man. So when I get married, it’ll be for love.”

“You’re so naïve, Lindsay. Despite what Shawn did, you’re holding out for love, aren’t you? You should forget about that feeling and find a man who can support you. Malik Brooks is a struggling artist and looks like a heartbreaker. Run. Forget passion. Forget emotion. He’ll only leave you with a broken heart.”

“The way you were?” Lindsay asked.

Gloria laughed and cut up lettuce on her plate. “That never happened to me with your father.”

“Not Dad, but someone else.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Tyrus didn’t break my heart. I was in full control of both of my relationships because I didn’t allow my heart to get involved. You’d be wise to do the same. I’m simply giving you advice from years of living. You can listen or not, but I’m right.”

“I know all about your broken heart, Mom.” This conversation was long overdue.

“What are you talking about?”

Lindsay leaned across the table and looked her right in the eyes. “I know all about you and Cyrus Johnson Senior, Sylvie Johnson’s brother. He broke your heart, didn’t he?”

Gloria’s eyes went round as coasters. “Where did you get that information? You’re completely incorrect. Cyrus and I were always only friends.”

“Not always.” Lindsay was on a roll, and she wanted to crush her mother in the same way Gloria had tried to crush her with those words about Malik and Shawn. “You loved Mr. Johnson.”

“What would make you say that, and how did you find out about me and Cyrus?”

“I read your journal.” Lindsay tilted her chin up, as if she’d done nothing wrong.

Her mother wrote constantly and had done so for many years. Lindsay found one of her old journals laying out in her bedroom, as if she’d been rereading it. Lindsay should have walked right back out but didn’t. Instead, she picked it up and flipped through the pages.

That’s when she learned about her mother’s relationship with the now-deceased patriarch of the Johnson family clan, her friend Stephan’s cousins who ran a multibillion-dollar beer and restaurant conglomerate out of Seattle. Based on the writings, her mother had been in love with Cyrus Senior and broken-hearted when he chose to marry Constance Nelson, a native Texan instead.

One of Gloria’s hands curled into a claw on the table. “How dare you go through my personal things!” she hissed.

“I didn’t go through your things. The journal was laying out for anyone to see.”

“Whatever you think you read, you were wrong. End of story.” Gloria dropped her fork as if she’d lost her appetite and guzzled the last of her wine.

“End of story because he chose someone else over you. You hated that he chose Constance Nelson, someone who you thought was weak and not nearly as interesting as you. You think you intimidated him and that he chose her because she was docile and submissive.”

Gloria glared across the table. “Those were the thoughts of a young woman, and I no longer feel that way. I was hurt, but the truth of the matter is that I did have very deep feelings for him. I can’t deny that. But that episode in my life taught me a valuable lesson, one that I want to pass on to you and your sister. It’s foolish to let emotion dictate your life. Putting your life on hold or putting your thoughts and desires on hold to please a man is not any way to live. At the end of the day, he’s going to do what’s in his own best interest.”

“Did it ever occur to you that he chose her because they were simply a better match? Malik and I are a good match.”

Her mother shook her head. “You’re being foolish, and soon you’ll learn that everything I’ve said is correct. But sometimes people have to learn the hard way.”

A pained expression overtook her mother’s face, and Lindsay experienced a stab of regret at her harsh words.

“Don’t ever mention Cyrus to me again. I can’t repeat that enough. Don’t ever mention Cyrus Johnson to me again. What he and I shared was between us and a long time ago. Those thoughts were private, to help me sort through my feelings, and were not to be read by anyone else. Certainly not my child.”

“Then don’t ever tell me what I should and shouldn’t do with my love life.”

Gloria folded her arms and simply stared at Lindsay for a few moments. “As a parent, you try to protect your children. To make sure they understand how important they are to you. You can’t always explain the whys and wherefores. Let me tell you a secret, Lindsay. Something you obviously don’t know. I may not have loved Abe, but I did care about him. I was a good wife, but he was a bad husband. When I told you to forget about him after he killed himself—”

“How could you say that to me? He was my father!” Her voice trembled with pain and anger. This was part of the reason why they couldn’t get along. She’d never recovered from her mother’s callous disregard for her father’s life and terrible advice to get over him.

“Listen. To. Me. It’s tragic that he killed himself, but I knew why he did it. He’d lost everything. He’d hurt a lot of people.”

Lindsay swallowed the lump in her throat.

Gloria continued. “The people that he hurt, they had every right to be angry. You have no idea how many lives he destroyed with his get-rich-quick ideas and how many family members grieved because they’d lost money they’d saved, or even their life savings. That’s why I changed your name. I didn’t want his dirt to stain you, too. I wanted you to have a fresh start.” She took a deep breath, as if trying to calm herself. “There was one woman in particular, and I’ll never forget, because he called and told me about her. I should have known then what he was going to do, because he was riddled with guilt. He said this Jones woman was sick with cancer and she had a child—”

“What? What did you say?”

“I said this Jones woman—”

“Do you remember her first name?” A pounding started in her temples.

“Well…yes.”

“What was it?” Lindsay held her breath.

“Lindsay, what is this about? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What was her first name!” She raised her voice to such a level that people at nearby tables turned and looked at them.

“I-I don’t know. I think it was Bertha or Betsy or...Bessie! Her name was Bessie Jones.”