I stroll out into the living room to show my mother and Evie the dress I’ve managed to squeeze into. “I look like a pregnant sea horse.”
Evie hides her snicker behind her hand while my mom merely shakes her head. “You do not.”
Pointing to the small bump protruding from my stomach I gripe, “I have a fucking pouch, Mom. I absolutely look like one.”
“Yes. You have a baby bump-”
“Which is ridiculous! Because now none of my clothes fit!”
Not like they were exactly loose before, but at least I could get them on and off my body without the assistance of the Jaws of Life.
“You know, it’s the male seahorse in many cases that carries the babies. Humanity should take a lesson.”
“I’d gladly carry our baby if I could,” Wes’ voice unexpectedly invades the conversation.
All eyes cut to him, and I instantly regret the way my body melts at his presence.
It’s like it’s already managed to forget the neglect we’ve been suffering through in multiple ways.
My eyes drink in the crisp black suit he’s filling out so well and the dark blue dress shirt that gives the casual, yet formal look the evening’s event calls for. I admire the way he’s shaved. The hint of cologne wafting my direction. His eyes that seem prepared to grovel in new ways.
He slides his hands into his pockets at the same time he attempts to give me a smile.
I hate him.
I love him.
I wanna punch him in the fucking face.
Instead of acting on that decision, I slide my hands onto my stomach. “Did you know many seahorse species actually switch mates at like a moment’s notice? Maybe that’s the page out of their playbook I should take.”
“Brynley!” My mother hisses.
Wes’ eyes never divert from mine.
His willingness to stand his ground excites and infuriates me in the same swift spin. “What the fuck are you doing here anyway? Liquor stores aren’t closed yet.”
“I should go,” Evie mutters loudly.
“We should go,” my mom echoes, which successfully grabs my attention.
“Wait. No! You two were helping me find something to wear….”
“Stop being stubborn and wear one of the loose-fitting evening gowns Evie picked out for you,” Mom commands. Afterwards she steals a glimpse of Wes, ending the conversation with, “And talk to your fiancé, Brynley. Actually talk.”
“You mean the thing he should’ve done to me like a month ago?” I snap loudly. “You mean the thing we do only when he fucking feels like it? No thanks. I’m good.”
“Bryn-”
“It’s fine. I’ll find something on my own. Shouldn’t be too hard since it’s basically my new fucking way of life.” The harsh implication that more or less attacks everyone in the room is proceeded with me turning on my heels and storming back to the bedroom.
A bit of a low blow considering my mother has come to check on me every chance she’s had over the course of our separation. Apparently, she’s been somewhat stuck as the buffer between her boyfriend and his more or less adoptive son. They’ve been putting her through the ringer to the point it only makes me want to punch Wes more.
Inside our bedroom I begin to tug myself out of the dress I knew better than to put on.
Someone needs to design an entire line of sexy pregnant women cocktail dresses because this is bullshit. Just because I have a little bump or…growing bump, doesn’t mean I should have to wear a burlap sack.
There’s a light tap on the open door behind me.
Once I’ve managed to get out of the contraption, I glance over my shoulder in question.
“Can we talk?”
“Why? Did your liquor bottles finally get tired of talking back?”
The flash of hurt in his eyes forces me to look away.
I drop my focus to the laid-out gowns splayed across the bed.
“You haven’t been taking my calls.”
He finally remembered how to dial the day I threatened to walk out of his life forever. I didn’t answer then or any in the days since. Why should I? He didn’t have the fucking respect to answer when I called? He’s been making my pregnant ass run back and forth to check on him. To make sure he didn’t end up in a liquor infused grave. Shouldn’t he have to put in some fucking work? Shouldn’t he realize that just because he says jump doesn’t mean I won’t reply with a fuck you?
“Or my texts.”
My face scrunches at the purple dress option.
Fuck, even I wanna make grape jokes about me from just looking at it.
“And you’re not wearing your ring….”
I glance down at my bare hand recalling when I took it off. It was the day I had to say goodbye to Steven. The day I needed him. The day he missed the doctor’s appointment. The day my best friend slept on the couch of this penthouse just in case I woke up in the middle of the night in a fit of tears since I had barely been able to stop crying all day. While some of it was definitely hormonal, most was at the sheer loss I felt about…essentially everything.
Finally, I face him, hands on my naked hips, words spewing like venom, “Why should I? Did I miss the moment you began acting like we were supposed to be married at some point?”
He swallows his obvious sadness.
“You think I should’ve just sat around waiting for you to crawl out of your drunken stupor? That I should’ve just forgotten the rest of the world fucking exists because I didn’t like what was going on in my life? Because I couldn’t handle the currents trying to drown me?”
His mouth twitches to respond until I step closer. At that moment it snaps shut.
“You are not the only person in life bad shit happens to, Wes. Fuck, you’re not the only person in this fucking city that bad shit happens to! You are however the biggest fucking asshole I’ve ever known, and I’ve met enough to make even an arrogant frat boy think about changing his dick head ways.”
Wes attempts to speak, yet my tangent continues.
“How can you be so fucking selfish?!” Dropping onto the edge of the bed, I shake my head. “Do I really mean that fucking little to you? Do we? Because if you don’t want me and this fucking kid, Weston then-”
“Don’t!” He barks to my surprise. “Don’t sit there and doubt how much you fucking mean to me, Bryn.”
“What the hell else do you expect me to do with the way you’ve been acting? With the way you’ve been hiding?”
Wes gives the side of his strained neck a quick rub. “I don’t blame you for questioning what we have. I don’t blame you for yelling. I don’t blame you for swearing to walk out of my life.”
Unsure of what to say I remain silent.
“I know I fucked up, baby. I know I deserve every blow you’re gonna give and so many more. And I’ll take ‘em. Every. Last. One. Because I love you. Because my life without you in it means nothing. I’d rather be broke and struggling to make rent every day if it meant falling asleep with you next to me.” His body doesn’t hesitate to cross over to mine. He lowers himself to his knees and sits back onto his heels. Now directly in front of me, slightly wedged between my legs, he lets go of the tears he’d been holding hostage. “I’m sorry, Brynley. I know that doesn’t change what I did or the damage I caused, but I will spend the rest our lives making it up to you. I will spend the rest of our lives being the man you learned to love in private and have always been proud to love in public. I will spend every waking moment making sure you and our child never have a reason to doubt how much I love you both.” The tears rushing down his cheeks spur mine to make themselves known. “I will never shut you out like that again. I’d rather die first.”
His proclamation pummels the wall I had spent weeks building up. Seeing him vulnerable, on his knees, literally begging at my feet touches every inch of my soul. As much as I wanna throat punch him, especially with him in the perfect position, I can’t. He’s been through enough hell. We both have.
I brush away a fallen tear from my face. “Still not naming this little thing junior.”
Wes’ trembling lips push for a smirk. “I don’t think you’re supposed to call it a thing.”
“Well we don’t know what it is yet, so for now little thing will have to do.”
Another bit of hope appears in his rueful, mismatched stare. “Does that mean…does that mean I didn’t miss that at the appointment?”
“It’s too early to tell.” The reminder of his mistake wrinkles my forehead. “And I swear to God if you ever miss another appointment this will be the only child you have thanks to me castrating you.”
“I’ll hand you the surgical knife.”
“Nope. Butter knife.”
Wes winces but nods his agreement. “Anything else?”
“The drinking-”
“Done.”
“Wes-”
“Spent the last four days detoxing….” He shakes his head slowly. “It was uglier than I remember, and I still have a long road ahead to kick my reestablished dependence on alcohol. Thankfully, Matt was there. He did what he could. J.T. rarely let me out of his sight for longer than enough time for me to go the bathroom. I’ve been in touch with a substance abuse counselor who will be visiting with me once a week. He also advocated me reaching out to you and reminded me I am not in this battle alone. Clark locked the cellar with a key only he has and removed every stitch of alcohol from the main portion of the estate, including the aged bottle of whiskey I wanna toast with at our wedding.” His eyes give my bare hand a glance. “Assuming there still is one.”
My hand lands on his face to persuade his stare to relocate to mine. “Let’s focus on fixing this before worrying about that.”
Wes nods again and leans into my touch.
For a quiet moment nothing is said between either of us. Our eyes simply stay planted in one another’s as if uncertain what still needs to be said or simply just forgiven without further deliberation.
Eventually, he sighs, “The DNA test to prove Monica is my biological sister is this weekend. Will you please be by my side?”
“Of course.” I give his cheek a gentle stroke. “Will you please trust me enough to fill me in about everything?”
Wes removes my hand from his face and places a gentle kiss on the back of it. “I do trust you.”
“It sure the fuck doesn’t feel like it.”
Fucking swear, like everyone else knows more about this situation than me. And to make it worse, trying to get any information about it is like trying to break into a bank vault. Even my own mother has been like Fort Knox. Out of her and J.T. I swore she would’ve let something slip to quench my curiosity, but she gave me nothing.
His panged voice pleads, “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you everything I know. Let you…rifle through anything we have before it goes back to Monica.”
A soft breath is let loose.
At least I won’t feel like the only member of the family who doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.
“I won’t make the same mistakes my father made, Brynley. When the test proves she is a Wilcox, I will accept her as such. She will be given her rightful claim, and we will extend a welcome to her because it’s what she should’ve had all along. And while I didn’t want to face the betrayal I felt from learning about my father’s past, it is not mine to judge. I’ve been given the opportunity to make my own family and I will not, I repeat Brynley Winters, I will not throw that away.” All of a sudden his warm lips land on my swollen stomach. The contact steals a pleased sigh. In a quiet voice he states, “You and your mother, Little Thing, are my entire life.”
A swoon is sweetly stripped from my lips to which Wes finally smirks.
Our eyes connect again. “Shouldn’t we be going? Do you really wanna be late for this event?”
I playfully shrug. “Being pregnant comes with this built in excuse for being tardy.”
He slightly chuckles and shakes his head. “Abuse of power.”
The sarcastic expression I toss him causes us both to laugh loudly.
Wes wraps his arms around me and pulls my body down towards him. With our mouths just a breath apart he whispers, “I love you, Brynley.”
There’s no opening to express my mutual shared feelings or the opposition. Our lips mesh tightly together, and any lingering doubts about our relationship are successfully dispelled.
Is everything perfect? Of course not. It never has been. That’s half the fucking fun. Is everything settled? I’m not sure. Is everything forgiven? No, but at least we’re finally starting the process. At least we’re talking. After basically a month of unwanted separation it’s nice to be together again. We’ll eventually figure out how to build some bridges and stop the constant desire to hit him over the head with my high heels. For now? We have a work event to attend, and I’m grateful I don’t have to go alone.
Wes casually points to the blonde woman across the room. “Is that Jenni?”
“Yeah….Evie mentioned she’d be here to babysit me.”
He furrows his eyebrows and gives me a displeased look. “Why would you need a babysitter?”
“With all the rumors floating around about me having an affair to you not wanting this child because it’s not yours, Evie thought it would be a good idea to send Jenni to be a ‘look out’, so she could be warned about any possible actions I make being misconstrued as something else. Oh, and to take photos of me ‘advocating for better welfare of marine life’ to the rich and powerful.”
The displeasure in his expression remains. “What kind of actions was Evie anticipating?”
“I don’t fucking know. It’s not like I’m gonna grab some guy’s dick instead of his hand.”
Wes wrinkles his forehead more and tightens the grip he has on my hand.
Hasn’t slipped once. After allowing him to help me into this light pink baby doll dress that has a pleated skirt, he has yet to break our touch. Though his assistance in sliding it on wasn’t necessary, it felt good to physically be close. So good in fact, I let him lotion my legs. And my feet. And then strap on my heels before placing my engagement ring back on my finger. During the car ride he held me close as if terrified I’m still contemplating walking out on him. Even though I’m not going to, I have to admit keeping him a little worried makes me feel a teensy bit better.
A waiter with a plate of bacon wrapped shrimp attempts to stroll by when I stop him to grab one.
Wes politely passes on the appetizer. “My appetite is still unstable.”
I nod my understanding, have another bite, and state, “Did you know The Mantis Shrimp is one of the most deadly creatures around?”
“Is that what you’re eating?”
“God, no. Do I look like I have a death wish?” Once I finish the last of the snack I inform, “Mantis Shrimp are like ocean terrorists. Their limbs can move so fast the water around them boils, and then it basically creates this shockwave that stuns like everything. Like a little underwater bomb. BOOM!”
The concern on his face grows. “You don’t…you don’t have those at the institute, do you?”
“Nope. They’ve been known to break glass as well as kill everything else they’re roommates with.”
His jaw drops in shock just as Calen joins us.
“Are you talking about the damn shrimp again?”
“It’s so scary!”
“Yeah, well, thankfully it typically stays hidden unless it’s time to eat or move on to a new dwelling.”
“You already know about this little death monster?” Wes questions at the same time he tugs me a little closer to him.
“She’s been rambling on about it for the past two days. Beats the shit out of listening to her go on and on about Star Trek.” My lips make an excited O in preparation to make a comparison of the shrimp to an alien species when Calen gives me a firm finger point. “I’ll walk the fuck away right now.”
I mock him, and Wes chortles to himself.
There’s a short moment of tension between the two of them that I quickly decide to sever. “Hey, I’m gonna be in late on Saturday. We’ve got a family thing.”
Calen cuts Wes a short glance but nods his understanding my direction. “Shouldn’t be an issue since they moved the transfer to Sunday.”
“What transfer?” My fiancé tries to interject.
“Why’d they move it?”
He shrugs. “Raquel didn’t say. She got the email right as I was leaving.”
“What transfer?” He repeats with a bit more desperation in his tone.
“We’re getting a new baby hammerhead to more or less replace Steven,” I explain. “It was the one we rescued the day I sprained my ankle.”
“Replace Steven?” A new wave of shock rushes through his expression. “Where did he go? Why did he go? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Maybe she tried,” Calen mutters not so quietly.
I give him a stern look before meeting eyes with Wes. The pain pumping in his is so palpable I instinctively free my hand to wrap it around his side to provide him with comfort we all know he doesn’t truly deserve about this situation. “I um….I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you, but with everything that kept happening there didn’t seem like a good time. Or better yet time at all, really. He got transferred the same day as my doctor’s appointment. He’s now at K&T for captive breeding.”
His hand lands on the nape of my neck and he pulls our foreheads together. “Baby, I’m so sorry….”
The lump of sadness that always forms when I think about Steven for too long chokes my speech. “It’s fine, Wes. It’s….He’s….This is good for him.”
He leaves us connected for just a moment longer before he pulls back. “How much more did I miss?”
I give him another small shrug and smile through the pain. “Eh. Not much?”
Unexpectedly, his body angles to face Calen and he states, “Thank you.”
Calen’s look of confusion matches my own. “What?”
Wes gives my side a small stroke yet repeats the words with the same amount of sweet inflection. “Thank you.”
My friend’s mouth moves, yet there isn’t the slightest sound.
“Thank you for being there for Brynley when I wasn’t.”
Bafflement grows in both of us.
“Thank you for being a damn good friend to her, Calen. We’re both lucky she has you.”
Finally, Calen gives me crooked look and nonchalantly questions, “Is he still drunk?”
“Are you?”
The matched bewildered expression we’re sporting causes him to laugh. Actually. Laugh.
Annoyed, I groan, “You are, aren’t you?”
Seeing my lack of amusement, he quickly shakes his head, and insists, “No. No of course not. Stone cold sober. The security team has even been instructed to give me random breathalyzers if they’re the slightest bit suspicious.”
“Can I request that too?”
“Absolutely.” The lack of hesitation spreads my smile. “My sobriety is not to being taken lightly.”
“Good,” Calen loudly states. Our eyes move his direction and he adds, “Because Brynley didn’t deserve the bullshit she went through and if you drag her through it again, you’ll see what a really good fucking best friend looks like.”
Wes’ response is expected. His chest swells. His neck stiffens. His eyes lower to a glare yet he says, “Understood.”
Okay….What the fuck is going on? I mean I don’t want them fucking fighting nor do I really want Wes being ridiculously jealous of another male being protective over me, but he didn’t argue whatsoever. Has he finally accepted that Calen is the best friend I have or is this more about him trying to dig his way out of the doghouse?
“Dance with me?” Wes asks softly.
Once more taken by surprise, I try to hide it better. “Have you secretly been taking dance lessons?”
He gives me a stunned look.
“You’ve got like one left foot and one foot so confused it shouldn’t be allowed within fifty feet of the dance floor.”
Calen chuckles while Wes glares.
“That’s really what people should be tweeting about. Billionaire, Weston Wilcox, dances like a stereotypical white guy.”
The humor in his eyes invites my smirk to stay.
“Teach him to do the Carlton. At least then he’s white with flare.”
My snicker is short lived because of the ass grab he not so subtly delivers. “Come on future Mrs. Wilcox. Let me show you the man you’re gonna marry has skills in and out of the bedroom.”
His action of dominance with his words echoing it slides my bottom lip between my teeth.
Good to know my Wes is still in there even if he’s just splashed with a little bit of shame.
We bid Calen a quick goodbye and start towards the ocean of dancing people.
This charity function is an annual one hosted by the founders of K&T. It is an opportunity for donors from all around the world to come and support not only the K&T Institute, but several other foundations who exist to help protect and maintain marine life. The event is a little more casual than those Wes is forced to attend, but no less valuable to those it helps. Every year millions of dollars are raised and spread to underfunded aquatic departments all around the country. Usually it’s only upper management that comes to show face, but considering my fiancé is one of said donors and it was expected for me to show up. Calen was extended an invitation through me in hopes I would have someone to actually talk to about more than just who designed my dress. Which that person should get a medal because this thing is comfy, and I look sexy.
Mere steps away from the dance floor we’re abruptly stopped by a tall, dark haired woman. “Weston! You’re here!”
“Renee,” he warmly greets, exchanging the briefest of hugs, keeping one hand looped around me during the process.
I smirk to myself over his commitment to staying attached.
Seriously, not running off. Especially not pregnant in heels. Who the fuck do I look like? Beyoncé?
“Renee Drake, this is my fiancée-”
“Brynley,” the woman finishes with a happy sigh. “It is an honor to finally meet you. Raquel is always raving about what a team you and Calen are.”
His grip tightens at the mention of Calen’s name, and I stifle my giggle.
I see that whole humbled by his dedication to our friendship thing was short lived.
“We are so fortunate to have you,” her continued gushing warms my cheeks.
“Thank you.”
“Should I be jealous?” The man beside her questions after a sip of champagne. “Should I be trying to steal her away for K&T?”
Wes’ growl isn’t subtle, but the accented man doesn’t seem to mind. He simply extends his hand to shake. “Trenton Kenningston.”
“Weston Wilcox.”
“As in the Kenningston?!” My voice squeaks while they shake. “As in the K in K&T, Kenningston?”
“Technically, I am both the K and the T. There is not an actual second founder. The T I use is for Turner. It was the last name of the woman I love, but lost due to my own mistakes. The woman who is the entire reason I started K&T.”
A small swoon escapes from Renee and me in unison.
Put aside the fact he’s tall and absolutely gorgeous for an older man, he unlike most men, admitted losing her was his fault. Not that women are never to blame, but it’s like a 90/10 kind of thing.
“The institutes are almost a therapeutic way to deal with the agony of a life without her. She loved the ocean and every creature in it.” He has another sip to wash away the sad smile.
Wes offers him an equally grim grin. “I know exactly what you mean.” He readjusts me in his arms with his attention still focused on Trenton. “So, you’re the founder-”
“And head donor of both divisions. The other is in Doctenn, where I’m from.”
Oh…so that’s the accent. Sounded a little British but I wasn’t sure.
“How big of a donation is it going to take to give my fiancée open ended access to the institute here in our country?”
The question drops my jaw.
Trenton looks intrigued. “Are we talking a week day pass or-”
“Any day, at any time. Doesn’t matter if she wants to visit at 3 A.M. or Christmas morning.”
I whisper, “Wes-”
“May I ask why the desire for that type of access?” Trenton questions.
“Will this affect our funding?” Renee meekly interjects.
Wes shakes his head to answer her before saying to him, “Your institute recently acquired a shark from ours for captive breeding. The shark-”
“Steven,” I correct.
Both men let the corners of their lips turn up. Wes promptly continues, “Steven as you can see meant a lot to my fiancée. He was…more like a friend than just another animal in her care. His departure hit her hard, and I would like to help alleviate as much of that pain as possible.”
The combination of his words and the outrageous gesture mean more than my emotions can handle. Resisting the urge to cry becomes hard, and I hate myself for it.
Fuck these hormones. Seriously.
Trenton’s smile threatens to blind us. “Your fiancée can have full access any time day or night to visit Steven.”
“In exchange for?”
“A favor.”
“What type?”
“My nephew has his own foundation that helps foster homeless children. Unfortunately, due to his decision to marry someone of a different ethnicity, his funding is hitting a bit of a financial snag. He may need an additional backer with some weight to his name.”
The smile on Wes’ face is genuine. “It’d be an honor to donate to a respectable cause. I lost my parents at a slightly older age, but I know others are not so fortunate.”
“I’ll have Renee forward your contact information to my secretary.”
“Please do.”
“And I’ll have a memo sent with Brynley’s information and access allowance.”
Joy jumps into my expression, and I have to stop myself from cursing.
She’s head of the company I work for. Gotta have a little class or professionalism.
“Oh! For a bonus, how about you throw in a bottle of your finest aged whiskey?” Trenton says with a playful glimmer in his eyes. “It would save me the trouble of searching for a bloody birthday present for my big brother.”
Wes lightly laughs with a nod. “Consider it done.”
“Perfect!” He lets his eyes drift to Renee’s and casually suggests, “Shall you return to showing me the private donations items that are in back?”
Renee’s blush is apparent, but neither of us comments on it.
They’re barely out of ear shot before I am squealing, “I can’t believe you did that!”
He sweetly smiles. “Baby, it’s the least I could do. It’s bad enough I wouldn’t let you be there for me, but I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most. Restoring a fraction of your happiness is definitely something you deserve. I can stand in your face all day and express my apologies for not being there or I can prove it to you. After all, actions speak louder than words.” Without waiting for me to retort, he returns to ushering me towards the dance floor. “Now, let me prove to you I am a much better dancer than you’re implying.”
Once we’re there Wes instantly winds his arms around my lower back, and I drape mine around his neck. The two of us saunter around our carved out space tightly embraced. Occasionally, he grows brave and poorly executes a twirl or dip, but after I nearly fall one too many times for his liking, he abandons his avid attempt to prove me wrong.
The music shifts from upbeat jazz to a softer, slower song. My head leans against his body, ear pressed firmly to his heart. Wes’ hold tightens, and I helplessly get lost to the eurhythmic cadence echoing from his chest.
It’s been way too fucking long since we were this close…this connected. Since I felt like I wasn’t so fucking alone. I know there are still things to fix and issues that need some work, but I’m grateful it’s not a lost cause. Being right here in his arms, I know that. I know that just like I know this is the man I am meant to spend forever with.
Wes leans his lips down to my ear. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?”
A wicked smirk slips onto my lips. “With or without my clothes on?”
He groans and the feeling of his cock stirring against me has me whimpering.
Peering up at him, I taunt, “I think there’s a bit more begging you need to do for my forgiveness.” Before it can be mistaken for something else, I add, “Particularly on your knees.”
Hunger instantly thrums through his expression.
“For at least…an hour?”
Wes wets his lips slowly. “Any more requests?”
“Coming until I can’t remember what my own name is.”
This groan is louder. Devilish. More urgent. “I’m gonna make sure you don’t ever forget mine.”
Our parted mouths rush towards one another when a mousy voice squeaks, “Excuse me?”
In unison we grumble and turn to the interruption.
My snip is instant, “What do you want H&R Cock Block?”
“I hate to bother you,” Jenni nervously stutters. “But I think we have a problem.”
“Whatever it is, it can wait. I need to get my fiancée home and do something I haven’t done in an entire month.”
“Repeatedly,” I slyly add. “You. Will. Do. It. Repeatedly.”
I expect his face to redden but when it doesn’t, the unabashed behavior dampens my thong.
Jenni briefly presses her lips together. “Just…really quick.”
“What?” He nearly barks.
“Isn’t that Brynley’s boss over there?”
Our eyes glance behind us the direction she tosses her nod.
“So?” I sigh, irritation blossoming. “She’s supposed to be here. Pretty sure it’s mandatory.”
“Mmhm,” Jenni brushes off, “but the woman she’s talking to. That’s Stephanie Danish. Monica Simmons’ assistant.”
My eyes zoom in at the sight and an epiphany instantly backhands me. “Well. Fuck. Me.”
Before either have the chance to stop me, I storm through the crowd, straight for their location. Ignoring my name being called and efforts being made by Wes to slow me down, I march right up to the pair, startling them both.
Raquel’s forced grin indicates everything my intuition is currently screaming. “Bryn-”
“You manipulative bitch,” I growl, disdain dripping from my voice.
“Excu-”
“It’s you.” Moving in a bit closer to her I snap, “You’re the one responsible for pumping Global Laundry with bullshit and personal information!”
“Your voice,” Jenni quietly reminds me.
Alarm fills her expression, yet she denies, “I would never-”
“It’s why they only seem to know the shit I’ve told Calen.”
“Then it must be-”
“Don’t you even fucking think about blaming him or I swear to God I will bitch slap you hard enough to make your ovaries hurt!”
Jenni’s voice whines again, “Bryn-”
“Hush,” Wes commands. Immediately afterward he asks, “Is it true? Are you the one leaking private information to the media?”
Raquel continues to deny, “Absolutely not. I-”
“You’re always suspiciously just around the corner or just about to enter the room we were in. Calen’s always rambling on about you expressing ‘concern’ for me in your little one on one sessions, but really you’re just trying to pump him for more information without him knowing.”
This time she doesn’t argue.
“According to employee logs, she is also the only one who is always working at the same time you both are,” Jenni quietly informs.
“It’s why Global Laundry thinks we’re having an affair. You cultivated that story and then kept feeding them just enough information to make it look like it was true. But what I really wanna know is how the fuck you knew I was pregnant. Did you fucking bribe the doctor or get them to?”
“I wanna know why,” Wes inserts. “Are you not being paid enough by the institute?”
Jenni busies herself with shooing away the onlookers. She casually insists it’s a debate that’s just a little loud and no one should be alarmed.
Except they should. I’m am not above knocking my boss the fuck out and blaming it on a pregnancy mood swings to skip the assault charges.
Evie’s second in command adds on a giggle about how she’s completely on the dolphin side of the argument, which finally seems to convince a few of the stragglers this conversation truly is harmless.
“Answer,” Wes firmly commands. “Now.”
Raquel looks at Stephanie with a pleading expression.
The strawberry blonde simply shrugs at the obvious defeat.
“My daughter has some very high medical bills-”
“And you didn’t think to ask for help rather than sell false information to the press?” The ire in Wes’ voice fills me with excitement. Adoration. Love. His instinctual nature to protect me, to protect his family, doesn’t just linger in private. It reigns in public.
“I swear, I didn’t know they were going to lie about everything. I only told them what I knew with the exception of Brynley being pregnant. That was more of a guess. I was on the phone with Calen and overheard the doctor start to the say the word. I merely assumed the rest.”
Wes secures me to his side and coldly states, “Your biggest mistake wasn’t in betraying the institute or my fiancée, Raquel. It was in betraying me.”
Dread fills the eyes of what I assume is about to be my ex-boss.
One way or another. Either I’m gonna drown her or Wes is going to have her ex-communicated from the country like he did the last woman who fucked with us.
After glancing around at the curious attendees, he sneers, “I suggest you get out of my sight and pray for my mercy.”
Raquel speedily darts towards the nearest exit.
“And you,” I glare at Monica’s assistant. “I suggest you and your bottom feeding boss find other waters to fucking fish in. These are now under extreme protection laws or would you like my fiancé to further demonstrate that?”
Stephanie curtly nods and quickly struts off the same direction Raquel did.
Jenni mumbles, “This could’ve gone better.”
Wes pins her with an authoritative glare. “Find Renee Drake now. Tell her she can be expecting my call within the half hour.”
Evie’s clone promptly nods through her increasing panic.
“She’s tall. Dark hair. Got a slightly weasel shaped face. She’s most likely still being diddled in the back by the hot older, British guy-”
“Doctenn,” Wes corrects.
“They’re like the same thing.”
He shakes his head. “They’re not.”
Jenni interrupts what is the beginning of an unnecessary argument. “Got it. I will go…inform her now. And then inform Evie of what happened here.”
“Please make Evie aware we will not be taking any calls this evening. Anything she needs to discuss can wait until the late morning if she misses her window of discussion during our drive home.”
The promise of a long, secluded night threatens to release a whimper.
Impressed with not only his calm dominant nature over this situation, but his dedication to keep the promise of sexual satisfaction, I press myself slightly harder against him. He steals a glimpse of my growing arousal, wets his lips, and leads us towards Lurch and FrankenNoFun.
During the short drive back to the penthouse, Wes keeps his ear wedged to the phone and his arm wound around me. Surprisingly enough there’s no yelling. No threats. Just orders given like he’s some sort of King they’re afraid will remove their heads for even considering the idea of opposing his decrees. Every conversation is short. Crisp.
By the time we’re walking into the penthouse, Wes has handled more issues than I was aware came from having a sneaky bitch for a boss. HR has been contacted as well as lawyers in multiple directions, for a multitude of reasons. Evie’s been given strict instructions on what photos he wants posted in the press, by which press, and what wording should be included to keep the focus on the event rather than the dramatic moment we engaged in.
I head towards our bedroom, but Wes’ movements distract me. He turns off his phone and leaves it on the coffee table. He kicks off his shoes, shrugs out of his jacket, and carefully rolls up his sleeves.
When he’s finished, he lifts his eyes to mine and states, “This night is about you. No one else.”
Flutters fill the pit of my stomach.
With intensity, he slowly approaches, giving me time to change my mind if I feel inclined.
But I don’t.
We need this. He needs to be given the chance to prove his love and loyalty, and I need to know I’m not just worth fighting with, but for. I’ve fought like hell more than once to get him to talk to me, to open up, to let me be there when it was clear he was suffering alone. He needs to fight too, and what a better battleground to start on than our oversized bed.
The moment we’re in our room and I start to undress, he immediately stops me. He removes my hands and takes over the process. I’m escorted to the edge of the bed where I’m requested to sit. Once I’m there, he lowers himself back to his knees and begins undoing the very heels he put on. It’s proceeded with gentle foot rubs that eventually fade into calf rubs. When his firm touch drags to my inner thighs they thoughtlessly drift apart more than willing to accommodate space for his hands.
I catch a cocky smirk between head lulls.
Despite my desire for his hands to apply a bit of that pressure to my clit, he relocates his efforts to removing the dress. My pout is cut short courtesy of his mouth latched onto the crook of my neck. Wes’ tongue languorously laps at the area like the last feast of a dying man, while his hands busy themselves with banishing my bra. His kisses are blistering. Heavy. Hungry. He drags his teeth along my collarbone to the other side where he repeats the lecherous torture. My fingers anchor themselves into the sheets as my body begins heaving with so much force I’m being knocked backwards. Wes’ wet lips wander towards mine, and I pounce without vacillation. Our tongues chaotically collide, losing more and more control with every push. The light caresses of my overly sensitive nipples increase the frantic movements of my mouth. His groans feed the greedy fiend inside of me just enough to make it ravenous.
Pulling back, I demand, “Prove you missed me.”
Wes nips at my bottom lip. “On my knees, right?”
I return the gesture with a smirk. “With your cock.”
There’s no reluctance to follow the request. Wes promptly gets us both naked, positions me on the edge of the bed, and places himself exactly where he belongs. The initial pierce through the swelling heat of my pussy bows my entire body off the bed. We share a synced sigh of satisfaction that reverberates off the walls with a vengeance. He drags his dick all the way out to repeat the movement. Receiving the same result merely encourages him to continue the blissful torment.
I attempt to shut my eyes, which is when Wes commands, “Keep ‘em open, baby. I need you to see it’s me who’s worshiping you.”
The words are gifted a loud moan.
Gradually, he increases the speed of the appetizing action until his dick can longer resist staying buried deep inside. My pussy contracts to reiterate the wise decision, and Wes growls behind gnashed teeth. With his fingers tethered to my thick thighs, he savagely begins to thrust. Each pump pushes his cock to the hilt and rewrites the promises he proclaimed just hours ago. In every piston of his hips there’s a pledge of affection. Allegiance. Attachment that will last at least a thousand lifetimes.
Desperation to come creeps along my spine and causes my muscles to constrict in warning.
Wes groans, relinquishes the grip on one of my legs, and rapidly rubs his thumb against my clit.
On a carnal cry of his name I’m rocketed straight into oblivion with no intention of ever returning. Tumultuous trembles tear through me as my pussy pleads with Wes’ cock to join it in surrender. His body shakes, strains, does everything it can to push through the temptation of coming undone, but is powerless when another sensual sigh falls from my lips. The feeling of his balls tightening in tandem with his dick causes me to detonate all over again, this time taking him with me. Warm gushes are submerged at the brink as if sealing the last of Wes’ vows of a better relationship.
Sex doesn’t fix everything, but it damn sure can help. This was the perfect way for us to start the healing process and remind one another of just how united we truly are. Hopefully, a divide never happens again and we manage to move on from all of this. If not for our sake, then at least for the little thing growing inside of me. He or she deserves parents on the same side. I’ll fight like hell to ensure that, and after the way Wes came back to me, I have a good feeling he will too.