The next five days are absolutely perfect. London and I eat, we sleep, and we make love in every room and on every surface in the house.

You’d think I’d have my fill, but each time only leaves me hungry for more. I don’t know how I lived without him for so long, but I know I was only half living. Not only do we have explosive sex, but we laugh, we talk, and we even argue about normal couple things—like him leaving the toilet seat up.

It’s everything I ever wanted in a relationship.

We needed some supplies so much to both our dismays, we’ve ventured into town to grab enough food to last us for the rest of our time here. We are ridiculously happy, and I know most would think that once the honeymoon wears off, the need to be with one another twenty-four seven will fade, but they’re wrong.

This isn’t a honeymoon phase because this is London and me—two halves of the same person. And what I’m doing in ten minutes will forever cement this fact.

It’s absolutely juvenile, but I’ve scheduled an appointment to get a tattoo. I haven’t told London because I want it to be a surprise. The idea came to me when he was swaying in the hammock with his ink on full display. He has his, and now, I want mine.

I told him I had something planned and wanted him to wait for me in the bar down the street. He arched a brow but went without question.

I’ve drawn the design on the back of a napkin. Not very savvy, but the tattoo artist understands what I’m after. Once he draws it up, he asks me to move my tank so he can position the stencil. I’ve decided to get it high on my ribs on the side of my left breast. I’m flashing some serious side boob, but it’ll be worth it.

He assures me it won’t hurt, and for the most part, it doesn’t. After twenty minutes, he tells me we’re done. When I get up from the table, I look in the full-length mirror and smile. It’s perfect.

A heart with a few strokes outlining the shape stares back at me and inside are the initials L+H. An arrow finishes off the simple yet meaningful design. The letters are cursive, and the sweep to the heart makes the tattoo feminine. There is no color, just black, but it’s striking. I can’t wait to show London.

Once I’m covered up, I slip on a T-shirt as I don’t want London knowing what I’ve done until he can see it properly, and by properly, I mean when I’m naked. I pay the tattooist and make my way to the bar. London is sitting outside, beer in hand.

My step quickens, but when I get closer, something is clearly wrong. “London?” I ask. My voice seems to snap him from whatever thoughts plague him.

“Hey.” He peers up, shielding the sun from his eyes with his hand. “Get everything done?”

I nod, but that can wait. “What’s wrong?” I pull up a seat and sit down.

He reaches for a coaster and turns it over and over in his hands. He’s obviously thinking of what to say. “I took a paternity test before we left.”

“Oh?” This is news to me.

“Yeah, I didn’t say anything because I already knew what the results would be. The doctor called. I’m not Emily’s birth father.” His head dips low, his disappointment evident. “I knew that I wasn’t after our bloodwork didn’t match, but I never did a test. It’s now official.”

My heart hurts for him. We knew the results but to actually have it confirmed is a hard thing to stomach. “I’m sorry.” I reach across the table to hold his hand.

“Thanks. Anyway, I tried to call Belle, but her phone is off. I guess I’ll speak to her later when Emily calls.”

His spirit is crushed, and I wish I could do something to make him feel better. Now that he’s proven not to be the father, Belle has to prove that Lincoln is. Once that’s sorted, we can proceed.

The mood is suddenly flat, and I come down from my high. “So, what did you do?”

My tattoo seems absurd in light of what’s happened, so I don’t bother explaining. “I’ll show you later.”

He doesn’t argue.

We decide to head back to our villa, and the walk back is shrouded in silence. London’s mind is elsewhere, and I don’t take offense in the slightest. When we arrive, he says he’s going to sit in the hammock for a bit. I know he needs some time alone.

After I go to the bathroom to clean the tattoo and apply the cream the tattooist gave me, I decide to do some work because reality has crept back in. It was nice to forget for a little while, but regardless of the distance, our troubles don’t seem too far behind.

I’m reading over an email when London comes back inside. Looking at the clock on my laptop, I see that I’ve been working for just over three hours.

“Hey. Do you want a drink?” I look at him from over the top of my laptop, wishing I could do something to stop him from frowning.

“Sure. Water is fine.”

I try not to hover, so I go back to my emails. I don’t want to force him to talk about what’s clearly on his mind. When he returns, he places the bottle on the table and pulls up the barstool next to me. “I’m sorry, Princess. I’m being fucking ridiculous.”

“No, you’re not.” I’m quick to jump in because he’s not at all. “I understand. It sucks, but we’re no worse off. We both knew what the results would be. I guess now we can look forward to figuring out how to fix it.”

It’s easy for me to say, but I’m trying to be positive.

“What did you do today?” He wants to change the pace of conversation, but I’m afraid he will think my tattoo is stupid.

“Nothing.” I reach for my bottle of water, but London places his hand over mine, both eyebrows lifting toward his hairline.

“Tell me. I’m curious, especially since you’re blushing.” When I see the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, I change my mind. Maybe this will cheer him up. There is only one way to find out.

“Okay.” Jumping down from the stool, I nervously toy with my lip as he sits back and waits for me to continue. “It’s easier if I just show you.”

His interest is definitely piqued.

Turning my back to him, I shyly lift my T-shirt over my head and cover my breasts with my palms. He exhales heavily as I’m sure he has no idea what’s going on other than the fact I’m naked. Turning my torso, I lift my arm so he can see my ink.

I look at him over my shoulder, unable to read his expression. I instantly regret my decision. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have done it.” I immediately make a dash for my T-shirt, but London jumps up to stop me.

“Princess, let me see.” He holds my wrist, stopping me from getting dressed.

With no other choice, I stand to the side, arm across my chest, so he can examine the tattoo up close. He bends low and inhales. He doesn’t say a word.

“I can get laser to remove it when we get back home,” I push out in a rushed breath.

“You will do no such thing,” he utters, peering up at me from under those lashes. “Princess, it’s gorgeous. I love it.”

“You do?” I can’t keep the surprise from my voice.

He drops to his knees and places his splayed hands on either side of the heart, careful not to touch it. “Of course, I do. How can I not?”

“You don’t think it’s dumb?” I chew my lip, gazing down at him nervously.

“Dumb?” He scoffs lightly. “I inspired your first tattoo. I’m honored. Besides”—he places a tender kiss on my ribs—“you with ink is a fucking marvelous sight.”

My breathing returns to a normal pace. “It’s only fair.” I grip his chin and coax him to stand so I can kiss him gently. He moans into my mouth, fisting my hair and pressing us chest to chest.

I’m still topless, which is a dangerous thing. London cups my breast, ensuring to steer clear of my tattoo, and thumbs my nipple. “I love you,” he hums, causing me to whimper in response. “Let me show you just how much.”

There is no discussion about it as we break apart. London’s eyes are like a magnet as he’s drawn to my tattoo. I know the feeling all too well. It’s how I feel whenever I lay eyes on my name across his chest.

Just as he’s about to drop to his knees, his fingers affixed to the top button of my jeans, his cell chimes. Groaning, he peers at the clock on the wall. “It’s Emily. Sorry, Princess.” I wave him off because there is nothing to be sorry for. “Hi, baby.”

However, who speaks to him isn’t Emily. It’s Belle. I can hear her voice over the phone. London listens for a few seconds before he pales. “What?”

My stomach drops because an ominous feeling kicks me low. I quickly put on my T-shirt, watching London as he listens to Belle, his mouth agape.

“Have you gone fucking insane? No, absolutely not!” His tone is feral. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him this angry before.

I’m desperate to ask what’s going on, but I’m afraid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Belle, stop this. Please. Stop and think about what you’re saying.”

I bite my nails, watching on and never feeling more helpless. Belle continues talking, and each word chips away at London until I can’t stand it any longer. “What’s wrong?” I mouth, but London merely shakes his head, pained.

“I can’t talk to you right now. Put Emily on.” He takes a step back. “Excuse me? Put her on now.” His expression is one of utter torment. “You’re going now? When were you planning on telling me?”

What he says next confirms my worst fears to be true. “Stop saying that. He is not her fucking father!”

It was nice to pretend for a while, but sooner or later, we knew he’d come out of hiding. The radio silence was him plotting, and it seems that whatever he has planned takes his callousness to a whole new level.

I extend my hand, demanding he give me the phone. He is in no state to speak, so he does. He begins pacing.

“Belle? What’s going on?” I don’t see the point in being coy.

“Ho-Holland?” she stutters, clearly not expecting me to come on the phone.

“Yes, it’s me. What’s going on?” Her silence is unnerving, especially since I know the reason she won’t talk.

“I’m on my way to New York,” she explains, and I close my eyes in horror. “I did what you asked and spoke to Lincoln, but to my surprise, he’d already taken a paternity test. He is Emily’s father. I already knew this, but something in him is…different this time.”

“Belle, no. Don’t fall for his lies again,” I plead, but her mind is made up.

“It’s different this time. He was on the phone, begging me to forgive him. He wants to meet Emily. I think she should know him.”

“Why?” I beseech. I can’t understand how she thinks that’s wise. “He wanted to use your daughter for his own personal gain. He blackmailed me, using her as a pawn. Tell me how you can possibly think him being in her life is a good thing?”

London walks backward and forward, fists clenched by his side.

“If you want a man like that in your life, then I don’t know you at all,” I spit, angered and frustrated by her inability to see past his lies.

“He cried,” she reasons, causing me to roll my eyes. “He said he wanted to get to know her. I think he deserves a chance.”

“No, he doesn’t. His chance has come and gone. His chance to know her was when you told him you were pregnant. But he didn’t. He turned his back on both you and Emily. The one person who didn’t is now the one you’re turning your back on.”

“I’m sorry, Holland. I really am.” And I believe her. “But everyone deserves a second chance. I won’t deny my daughter this opportunity.”

“Opportunity?” I scoff, disgusted by her weakness. “This is a fucking tragedy. The only opportunity is for Lincoln to hurt both London and me.”

“This isn’t about you,” she exclaims. “The world doesn’t revolve around you. And besides, this is none of your business.”

She won’t see reason because Lincoln has wormed his way into her life yet again. When will she learn?

Looking at London, broken and so confused, I don’t bother wasting my time on someone who is past saving. “It is my business. I only hope you change your mind before it’s too late.” However, when I hear the distinct voiceover announcing the flight to New York has begun boarding, I know it’s too late.

“I have to go. Tell London I’ll call him when we land.” The line goes dead.

I stand motionless with the cell pressed in my hand, staring off into space as I’m unsure what to do. For the first time ever, I feel hopeless. We had a fighting chance with Belle on our side, but now, this is a fucking mess.

Lincoln played the happy family card, and Belle fell for it. I can’t believe she’s still so naïve. For our entire childhood, Belle craved the love her parents never gave her, and now that Lincoln has hinted that she can finally have her wish, she’s letting go of good sense and letting him win.

“I can’t believe she has fallen for his shit again. What is the matter with her?” I say aloud, hoping by speaking the words, I’ll be able to make some sense of them. I can’t.

Slumping onto the stool, I run a hand down my face, stunned. “This is my fault,” I state. London sighs, finally coming to a standstill. “I made her talk to him. I thought she wouldn’t be fooled yet again. Why do I keep giving her the benefit of the doubt?” I’m livid at myself.

“This isn’t your fault. Not in the slightest. It’s Belle’s for being so naïve, but most of all”—he clenches his jaw—“it’s his. This was the only way he could win.” There is utter defeat behind his words, but no, fuck no, I refuse to let this be the end.

“He hasn’t won,” I snarl, jumping up on the hunt for my cell. “He has just started a war.”

London watches as I scroll through my contacts, intent on tearing apart Lincoln’s empire, brick by brick. Tony Petrov answers on the third ring. I place it onto loud speaker, wanting London to hear it all. “Holland, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Tony, I won’t waste your time. When you asked me about Lincoln, what I should have told you is that he is a lying, manipulative asshole. He may want to see the company succeed, but mark my words, if someone bigger or better comes along, you will be yesterday’s news.

“Investing with him is not wise, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that when you first asked. I was bound by an NDA. Long story short, he was blackmailing me.”

London growls as the memory is still too raw.

“I understand if you’re mad at me for not telling you the truth, but I needed you to know what you’re getting yourself involved in. You’ve always been straight up with me. So, I’m sorry I didn’t do the same.”

Tony is silent as I know it’s a lot to process. “Thank you for telling me,” he finally says. I have no idea what he’s thinking because his voice gives nothing away.

“It’s okay. Again, please accept my apologies for not telling you sooner.”

“It takes a lot of guts to do what you did. You know what kind of man I am.” And I do. Yes, Tony may scare the shit out of me, but I know he’s honorable. Something Lincoln is not. I can only hope he appreciates my honesty, and it’s not too late.

“I do, which is why you needed to know.”

“I am very grateful. I couldn’t stand that sneaky bastard. Something was off about him. I only gave him the benefit of the doubt because of you. But now that I have this information, I will deal with the situation accordingly.”

I can only hope that translates into him severing all business ties with Lincoln, as losing one of their biggest investors when he’s a newly appointed VP will not look good for him. I also hope Tony explains to the CEO why he decided to jump ship.

If Lincoln wants to fuck with my future, then I will do the same to him.

Tony and I say our goodbyes.

When I hang up, I look at London with a new lease on life. “If it’s a fight he wants…let’s go to battle.”

I don’t need to explain what’s going on. London understands. This is us retaliating as we don’t roll over. We don’t surrender. We fight.

London storms over, looping his fingers around my nape and drawing me close. We are inches apart, the air thick with savagery. “I’ll book the first flight to New York. It’s time this ends.” I shiver at the promise his words hold.

“Yes, it is. I am done with this asshole messing up our lives. I—”

I don’t have a chance to finish my sentence because London is on me, ripping at my clothes, assaulting my lips with his hungry kisses because with the unknown lingering, there is no waiting for tomorrow. When he sinks deep into me, I scream out a war cry because we both know the final battle is on…and only the strong will survive.

Vacationing in a remote part of the world has its pros and cons. Pro—you can pretend the world doesn’t exist. Con—when trying to leave, it literally feels like the world does not exist.

Catching a red-eye back to New York was impossible. So was trying to leave the day after Belle called. No matter what strings I tried to pull, I got the same answer. The next flight to New York was leaving in two days.

We even inquired about taking a different route and stopping over in a handful of states en route to New York. In the end, it made sense to wait the two days.

Those two days were almost unbearable because London was inconsolable. Belle didn’t call, and he had no way of contacting her. I budged and dialed Lincoln, but no surprise when he let it go to voicemail.

He’s back in control, a place he likes to be. He will contact me when he’s done having his fun. He knows what the silence is doing to London, so he will drag this out for as long as he can.

I was helpless because nothing I could say would take away the pain London felt. His world was crumbling around him, leaving us stuck in a once paradise that was now his hell.

When our plane finally left, I mentally prepared myself for the numerous scenarios headed my way. I have no idea what London will do once he gets a hold of Lincoln. This is the most detached I’ve felt from him because he won’t speak to me. He’s bottling it all up, and I’m frightened of what will happen when he finally explodes.

When we landed, London was intent on finding Lincoln and killing him. I understood his anger, but for that to happen, we needed to know where exactly he was. I decided to start with the most obvious place.

I never thought I’d be back here. When I said goodbye to my apartment on the Upper East Side, I intended it to be for good. But it looks like fate had other plans for me.

London is beside me, and I honestly have no idea what will happen if Lincoln opens this door. Taking a deep breath, I knock, unsure if I want him to be home or not. If he is, this will be a bloodbath.

When no one responds and it’s clear there are no noises coming from within, I exhale lightly. London however won’t take no for an answer. He pounds his fist on the door, yelling, “Open the door, you motherfucker! I’m not going anywhere.”

Pound.

Pound.

Pound.

This is going from bad to fucking diabolic in mere seconds. As I’m racking my brain to what our next move should be, I hear my name being called.

“Holland, dear. He’s not home.” Both London and I turn to see Martha shuffling up the hallway, mail in hand.

“Hi, Martha. When did he leave?”

She seems to ponder on my question. “I think just before nine. He looked on his way to work.”

This is good. I can work with this.

“Thank you so much. I’m sorry you’ve somehow become involved in my problems,” I say, guiltily. I decide to push my luck. “You didn’t happen to see a little girl about ten years old and her mother come by here?”

It’s a long shot, but I have to try.

“Yes, actually, I did.” London inhales sharply through his nose. He’s barely holding on. “Yesterday, I believe it was. Lincoln seemed very happy with them. I didn’t know he liked children.” Her honesty would be laughable if it wasn’t for our situation right now.

“He doesn’t,” I correct, rubbing my brow. “Are they staying here?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure he walked them out late last night. The little girl said she missed her father.”

My heart breaks. I can only imagine what’s happening to London’s.

“That’s no surprise. This is her father.” I peer up at London, smiling bittersweetly. “This is my husband, Martha. London Sinclair.”

Martha’s mouth gapes open, but she quickly recovers when London offers his hand. “Hello, Martha. I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner. Forgive me. I’m not myself.”

Martha shakes his hand, not at all offended. “It’s quite okay. I can imagine you miss her too.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he replies while both Martha and I try not to weep at his sadness.

“I have to go, but I promise, once this blows over, I’ll tell you everything. Oh, and…”

But she beats me to the punch. “I never saw you. Either of you.”

“Thank you.” I give her a tight hug and kiss her cheek.

We leave with more direction of where to look. But there is one problem—London looks like he’s about to incite World War III. He shoulders open the glass door with force, almost taking out a passer-by who is talking on his phone.

“Let’s go. We know where he is.” He bunches his hands into tight fists, resulting in the loud crunching of knuckles.

I can only hope this doesn’t blow up in my face. “London, let me go. You’re in no state to talk to him, and that’s completely understandable.”

I’m attempting to appeal to his rational side, but I may as well have told him to go fuck himself. “What? You’re not serious?” he exclaims, shaking his head.

“I am,” I deadpan him. He can hate me later. I’m doing this to protect him.

“If you go, it will just end ugly, and Lincoln will have you thrown out by security, or worse still, he’ll have you arrested.” This is exactly what we don’t want. A criminal record will not win us any favors in court.

“I don’t care!” he barks, annoyed I would even suggest something so obscene.

But I won’t back down. “You don’t know where he works, and I intend on keeping it that way. I won’t be long. Wait for me back at our hotel.”

I attempt to reach out and touch him, but he recoils, appearing he can’t stand to be near me right now. And that’s okay. We hurt the ones we love.

“You would do the same if the roles were reversed.”

He folds his arms, glaring. “No, I wouldn’t. I would support you!” He is so angry, I almost buckle. But his fury is the exact reason I stick to my guns.

“I am supporting you, and you’ll see that,” I say gently, not wanting to cause an argument. But it seems London is already there.

“Bullshit!” he exclaims, his tone sharp. “You just want to do everything your way as usual.”

“Stop it.” I gasp, surprised he would say something like that because it’s not true. “I know you’re upset but stop being an asshole. I’m trying to help you.”

“The only way you can help me is by telling me where that son of a bitch works!” His cheeks are flushed red, and his eyes are crazy, which is exactly why I will do no such thing.

“I’ll talk to you later. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Too late,” he snaps, while I blink, stunned he’s reacting this way. “So, you go while I sit around, dick in hand, waiting to find out what the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

We’ve attracted the attention of onlookers as London is livid. I’m trying not to take offense, but it’s a little hard when he’s speaking to me like I’m the enemy. “Are you okay, miss?” asks a concerned man.

London almost bites off his head as he lunges forward. “Mind your own business. She’s fine!” The man rushes off, not at all interested in getting a broken nose.

This is exactly what Lincoln wanted. Maybe we were lost in the honeymoon phase, but this right here is our reality. Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to cry. “I’m not talking to you when you’re like this. It solves nothing. It only gives Lincoln what he wants. So hate me, I don’t care, because in the end, I’m thinking about your daughter. And you should too!”

I don’t wait around for him to reply because I am done talking. I’m thankful he doesn’t follow.

When I’m out of earshot, I let out a shaky breath, afraid my tears will betray me. So we just had our first real fight, and it happened over Lincoln. Rubbing my temple, I can’t help but compare it to high school.

Belle and Lincoln have once again managed to wedge their way into our lives.

I understand he’s lashing out, but being someone’s emotional punching bag is hard, especially when all you’re trying to do is help. I push aside the woe is me attitude, however, when I’m a few blocks away from Lincoln’s office on Wall Street.

I peer over my shoulder to ensure London isn’t following. He doesn’t seem to be, but I can’t be too sure. When the looming building of Grotta and Hill comes into view, bile rises. This is the last place I want to be, but I should be used to Lincoln putting me into situations I don’t want to be in.

Will, the building’s security guard, waves at me as I enter the elevator. So far, so good.

When I reach my floor, I prepare myself for battle. There is no way Jenn will let me in to see him if I go in all gung-ho. I have to play it cool. I have to put on my lawyer face and walk into that office like I own it.

I see Jenn sitting behind her round white desk. She is speaking to someone on the phone, but when she peers overhead and sees me strolling casually toward her, she quickly ends the call. Great. I don’t let it deter me, though.

“Hi, Jenn!” I say with a little too much pep. She wheels her seat back a fraction. I wonder if she’s reaching for the panic button. “Is my fiancé in?”

Those words burn my throat, but I try my best to smile.

She doesn’t buy it. “Um, no, sorry. He had a meeting across town. I don’t expect him to be back for hours.”

When you’ve been in the game for as long as I have, you learn that actions speak a lot louder than words. By the way her eyes are darting back and forth as if seeking an escape route and the sudden flush to her cheeks, it’s apparent she’s lying out of her ass. But unlike her, I’m a very good liar.

“That’s okay. He’s always working so hard. I’ll catch him later.” I literally see her exhale in relief. However, as I go to turn, I halt, pretending my love-lust brain was too caught up in seeing Lincoln, that I forgot to mention, “Oh, someone called Henry was looking for you. I saw him by the coffee machine when I walked in.”

I raise my shoulders innocently, but I know she’s about to launch from her seat because her office crush is supposedly seeking her out. I know this because Lincoln told me some guy named Henry was hanging around her.

Mean, I know, but so is protecting an asshole.

She falls for the bait. “Oh my god. Really?”

“Yes, I overheard him talking to a bunch of very handsome men.” I wink, hoping this camaraderie will give me some leeway.

It does.

“Oh my god,” she repeats, yanking open her desk drawer. The contents rattle as she shoves aside whatever stands in her way. She produces a lip gloss wand and cakes her lips a deep red. “Thank you for telling me!”

I don’t get a word in edgewise before she leaves skid marks in her haste as she rushes off in search of Henry.

I can wrestle with my conscience later because I only have a few minutes before she’s back with security. With no time to waste, I charge over to Lincoln’s door and rip it open. I’m surprised to see him working behind his huge desk and not getting a blow job by the new intern.

He does a double take when he sees me but soon composes himself. “Babe, what a nice surprise.” He places his gold pen onto the desk, smiling slyly.

It just enrages me further. “Oh, cut the shit. What do you want?” I storm over, not interested in humoring him a second more.

“You know what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

I’m stopped dead in my tracks because I was not expecting that response. “You can’t be serious? After everything, you think I’d really parade around like your prized poodle?”

He steeples his fingers and shrugs. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Is that what you call ruining Emily’s life? Because that’s what you’re doing.”

“I’m doing no such thing. Belle is the one who seems intent on making us one big happy family,” he calmly states. I hate him. I hate him so fucking much.

“Stop her then. You’re the one who called her in apparent tears.”

“Crocodile tears. A means to an end really.”

“You’re disgusting. I can’t believe I ever felt a shred of love for you.”

He flinches, alerting me that under this bravado, I can still hurt him. But he’s quick to recover. “This could have been done with. It still can.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There is a company dinner in my honor. This can all end. You know what I want.”

So, it appears Tony Petrov hasn’t pulled the plug. If he had, this dinner wouldn’t be happening. My disgust at being in the same room as him overrides my disappointment.

“I want you to take a slow walk through heavy traffic, but we can’t always have what we want.”

He has the gall to laugh. “It appears you’re wrong. Happily ever after is possible after all.” When his eyes drop to my ring, I curse my error.

Even though Belle would have told him London and I got married, I shouldn’t have come in here, flaunting it. It’s like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull.

“Go to hell. I won’t be blackmailed by you.”

“Then I will never sign those adoption papers!” he counters angrily, shooting up and slamming his fist against the desk.

His violence stuns me, and I jump back.

My reaction is music to his narcissistic ears. “Oh yes, I know it all. Belle told me London intends on adopting my daughter. Well”—he rounds the desk slowly—“you can tell him from me…over my dead body.”

With London involved, that could be arranged.

There is no reasoning with him, and besides, I’m running out of time. “I’ll be sure to pass the message on. I’m pretty sure his response will be along the lines of fuck you.”

He tips his head back, laughing. He knows he’s won. “I’ll be seeing you very soon. Remember, I love you in red.”

Blanching, I think back to the last red garment I wore. My red bikini. Lincoln has managed to taint a memory which I once held dear to my heart.

I exit, slamming the door shut.

Not wanting to push my luck, I make a mad dash for the stairwell, breathing a sigh of relief when I don’t get hauled off by security.

When I hit the sidewalk, I bend at the waist and breathe steadily. Lincoln siphoned off my air supply.

I can’t believe he still wants to proceed with our original agreement. How desperate is he? But this has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him wanting me to submit, to humiliate me, and for me to surrender, something I have never done before.

Yes, I have connections, but this is personal. This is him finally winning—being the victor over both London and me.

Coming to a slow stand, this time, I allow the tears to flow because there is no way around it. There is no exit. No magical potion this time. I have to do this, but for me to surrender, I know London will hate me for it.

I wander the streets of NYC just as I did when I first arrived. I was so in love with this city, and everything was so new. I could forget who I was and what I’d done. But you can’t run away from your past forever. I’ve been reminded of this fact time and time again.

I thought London and I had beaten fate at her own game. But I’m starting to think I was wrong.

Every time we take one step forward, we end up taking three back. He hasn’t called me or text in over five hours. Unable to avoid the inevitable any longer, I head back to our hotel, unsure what I’m walking into.

Will he still be mad? Will he forgive me? Or will he even be there at all? There are endless possibilities, all of which have me rubbing my chest over my heart.

Swiping the key card though the slot, I open the door and enter cautiously. I don’t realize how frantically my heart is beating until my eyes lock with London’s and everything settles.

“Princess.” He jumps up from the sofa and sprints over.

I stand tall, not daring to breathe.

But when he pulls me into his arms, fisting my hair, everything falls quiet—except the staccato of his beating heart. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I was out of line. You have every right to tell me to go to hell,” he says in a rushed breath.

I choke on my looming tears as they’re shed in relief. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he argues. “You were only trying to help me, and I bit off your head. I’m a fucking asshole. I’m sorry.” He squeezes me tighter. “This thing is just eating me up inside. I don’t know what to do. I’m so angry, but most of all, I’m scared.”

He holds on tighter—if that’s possible.

“What happened? Did you see him?” His disgust is apparent.

“Yes.” I need a moment before I divulge what we discussed. “He will stop this if I agree to the terms of our agreement.”

“What the fuck?” he spits, his chest rumbling in utter spite.

“I know. It’s crazy, but this isn’t about his name anymore. It’s about his pride. He wants to punish us. He knows what this will do to you and what it will do to me.”

His silence is worrying.

“Maybe I should just do it?” I put it out there, but when I feel him tense, I know what his response to that suggestion will be.

“No. This isn’t negotiable. You say yes, then what’s next? He won’t stop.”

I tend to agree with him, but I’m running out of ideas. “What do you suggest we do then? Have you gotten a hold of Belle?”

“No.”

I don’t need to say it. Without her, we’re screwed.

“Maybe I can write up a new agreement? Just one dinner—”

“No. I don’t want to talk about this,” he cuts me off. “One dinner is one too many. One dinner will cost just how much?” I knew what he was implying. Dinner wouldn’t be enough. It never was. “I can’t stand the thought of it. Of him touching you.”

His reaction to my suggestion is no surprise; his response, however, is. “So what do we do?”

“I’ll handle it.”

“How?”

Silence.

“What’s going on?” I pull out of his arms, beseeching him to tell me what’s happening.

He only shakes his head, lips pressed tight. “Trust me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I trusted you, and now, it’s your turn to trust me.” Those words send a chill straight through me.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. He’s not worth it.” I don’t know what he has planned, but I can’t imagine it’s good.

“No, but you’re worth it.” He places a hand on my cheek, cupping me softly. I nuzzle into his touch.

“What are you going to do?” I whisper, almost afraid to hear his response.

The question lingers, never getting an answer…well, not for tonight, anyway.