He drives me crazy. Insanely crazy. He’s so … so … infuriatingly … perfect.

Yes, he’s perfect.

He makes me laugh harder than anyone ever has. He is protective and so … alpha. A real alpha.

What’s a real alpha?

Someone who is strong, secure, knows what he wants and goes after it. He doesn’t have to be showy, and doesn’t have to be the center of attention, although they often are.

When I first met Zandor, I was immediately attracted to him. He is sexy as sin and fun to fantasize about. His carefree attitude, humor, and the nonstop witty and sexual banter with everyone made working at Forever Steel seem like it would be a fun and a relaxing atmosphere.

It wasn’t for me.

He trained me hard, harder than anyone else. He pushed me to do things before I felt ready. He made it more than clear he had every intention of getting what he wanted, and I was sure as soon as he did, he would leave.

He didn’t.

Therefore, I pushed him away.

I wanted him, yet I wasn’t ready.

When I finally let down my guard, though, and allowed myself to see me the way he did, I became beautiful for the very first time. He made me love my curves, and all the other things I felt was wrong with me physically. He gave me no reason to feel insecure. In fact, he made me love them.

We have both learned a lot from one another.

If this was six months ago, before we found out I was pregnant, he would be standing over me, pushing me to talk, make up, or fuck our way through this … disagreement.

I hate fighting. Hate it. With him, though, I know a fight, which is seldom, doesn’t mean I will find him drunk at a bar, or find out he cheated on me.

He is my hope, my light, my passionate and demanding lover, my protector, my everything.

I’m so much stronger now, than before, because of him and with him.

It’s not a weakness, he told me once. It’s how it’s supposed to be. He felt men were supposed to protect the things they love, and protecting emotionally was just as important than physically.

He’s right.

After my shower and once my hair is dry, I walk over to my closet, pulling out a dress that doesn’t accentuate the curves Zandor adores, and pull it over my head. Looser clothing makes me look less pregnant. I would prefer it for at least another month.

Then, after applying minimal makeup, I walk downstairs and find my breakfast on the kitchen island with a note from Zandor.

Take your time coming in today.

Nothing major going on.

Love you, kitten.

Yours,

Z.

---

When I walk into Steel Inc., Momma Joe is standing just inside the main entrance, coat slung over her arm and smiling.

“Good morning, Rebekah.” She hugs me and kisses each of my cheeks.

“Good morning, Momma Joe. Are you leaving?”

She nods. “I have some shopping to do. A new gallery opened, and we’re investing in it. They are going to be texting me some of the props they need.”

“They asked you to do that?” I’m shocked that the owner of a startup company would ask for an investor’s help.

“I love to shop, and being artistic is something I miss. Aside from cooking, I feel like I may lose my creativity, so this is a pet project.” She looks down at her phone at a message and sighs.

“I love it here at Steel and working with Zandor, but I miss working at the shop, too.”

“You do?” she asks, shocked.

I nod. “I do.”

“I actually would love your help. I went looking for you on my way out; spoke to Zandor. He said I should ask you to come with me.”

“Oh,” I say, slightly shocked. It’s not like Zandor to not check in with me first.

She smiles. “I just asked. If you’d rather not—”

“No, of course. He mentioned there wasn’t much going on, so sure.”

“Good.” She smiles. “Your sisters-in-law are meeting me in a few hours for a nice pampering session.”

“Pampering?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t ask me to join in that. Zandor and I enjoy our couple’s massages together almost monthly, and it’s been some time. My first trimester was rough.

“I told Zandor he’d have to deal with it. He pouted a bit, but I’m immune.” She laughs as she opens the door. “Let’s go.”

Guess I’m getting pampered, too.

In the vehicle, Joe sends texts back and forth with the artist, laughing and shaking her head.

“Well, we’ll have an interesting day. I hope you’re not too tired, Rebekah.”