New York Billionaires Series

He kisses me in reply and I hold him tight, taking all he’s offering and tucking it safely inside my heart, knowing he’s doing the same in return.

Victor turns on his side and pulls me close. “So much,” he says. “More than I know what to do with. You know that, right? I have no idea how to handle it. I’m completely powerless with you.” His hand finds my thigh, notching it over his hip. “I hate you for that sometimes.”

I stroke his lip with my finger. “I know. It’s scary. Trusting another person this fully.”

“It’s terrifying.”

“But it’s worth it. You know, I can’t imagine my life without you now.”

“I can,” he says. “And I want to avoid it at every cost.”

I smile, wandering my fingers up his cheekbone to his forehead. His eyes close. His eyelashes are dark at the roots and blond at the tips. “Was that why your grandfather wanted you to marry, do you think? So you’d have someone in your life when he passed?”

Victor’s breathing catches. It’s brief, but it’s there. “I’ve never thought of it like that.”

“Why did you think he required it?”

“Because it was my job to carry on the St. Clair name. He said that often enough while he lived. That if I didn’t put the hours in, the family would die with me.” Victor clears his throat, eyes drifting to my temple. His fingers trail one of my curls. “I think he wanted me to carry on my father’s legacy. Grandpa never really got over the loss of his son, I think.”

“I can’t even imagine that.”

“But maybe he didn’t want me to be alone, either,” he says. “I like the idea of that.”

“He loved you,” I say. “I know you never spoke about it, the two of you, and from what you’ve told me, he was far from perfect. But he loved you.”

Victor closes his eyes again, leaning into my touch. It takes a long time before he replies. “Yes. I think he did.”All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

I stroke his hair, enjoying the warmth of the Caribbean sun and the gentle breeze sweeping across our sweaty skin.

But eventually, my curiosity wins out. “So?”

“So what?”

“Are you interested in carrying on the St. Clair last name?”

Victor’s lips tug. “I don’t know. My wife never took the St. Clair last name. There’s no guarantee she’ll agree to give it to my children.”

I lift up on an elbow. “Your children?”

“Yes. Our children.”

“So you are interested in having kids.”

His gaze drops to my collarbone, and he reaches out, tracing it with a long finger. “Not any time soon, and I don’t know how good of a father I’d be.”

“You’d be amazing.”

He snorts. “You don’t genuinely believe that.”

“Yes, I do. I’m not saying it wouldn’t take some work. It would for me too. I don’t know the first thing about being a mother.”

“But is it something you want?”

I smile at him, his beautiful strong face and clear blue eyes, the furrow between his brows. Loyal and skilled and dedicated. “I do,” I say. “But not anytime soon.”

He closes his eyes, hand curling around my hip. “Well. That’s good, then. Even if it’s mildly annoying to give my grandfather the last laugh. He always loved being right.”

“Like his grandson?”

Victor’s hand tightens on my hip. “Watch it, Myers.”

I laugh. Happiness makes my chest feel like a bubble, floating high.

His voice is lazy. “You know, if you change your name, I won’t be able to call you Myers anymore.”

“You’ll still be able to.”

“Technically yes, but it wouldn’t be accurate.”

“Well, if you started calling me St. Clair, wouldn’t that be confusing for you?”

“Mmm. I think I’ll manage.” He shifts me closer on the wide lounge chair, a tanned leg resting by mine. “You know, we only have two months left until our one-year anniversary.”

“You’re right. One year since our wedding in the courthouse. The one you wanted scheduled at lunchtime to avoid traffic.”

“Christ. I clearly had my priorities right.” His gaze turns teasing, mercurial, the Victor I love best. The side only I’m allowed to see. He walks his hands up the curve of my waist. “I’ve decided to do things right.”

“Oh? That sounds ominous.”

“I’ve looked into vow renewal ceremonies.”

“You have? That’s… interesting.”

“It is. Some even look like real weddings. White dress, catering, the works.”

“Catering, huh.”

“Tons of it. Well, it looked exciting. Something my wife deserves. So I think, when the time is right, I’ll ask her if she’d want to renew her vows with me.”

I bite my lip, holding his face between my hands. “When the time is right?”

“Yes,” he says. “When she’ll say yes. I think I might even go down on one knee. But then again, perhaps she’ll find that corny.”

My heart is stuttering in my chest and I speak the next words against his lips. “No. She wouldn’t.”

EPILOGUE

The numbers on my computer screen bleed in front of my eyes, my mind drifting. It’s been doing that a lot lately. The work doesn’t hold my attention the way it once did, and try as I may, I can’t seem to find my way back to it.