Read on for an excerpt from ‘Admit You Love Me’ - Niall’s Story.
Excerpt: Admit You Love Me
Description
When a rich aristocrat wins you in a card game for one night, there’s one thing you do not do….
You don’t get pregnant.
But I did.
And now… I’m screwed.
When I ended up in this billionaire’s suite all those years ago, I knew that my life couldn’t get any worse.
It was my husband’s stupidity that put me there. The man literally bet me in a game and lost.
He slowly squandered all of our money and left me with absolutely nothing.
But the encounter that was supposed to destroy my soul… changed my life.
My one-night billionaire made me feel beautiful with all my curves.
And he gave me a child.
A secret baby that he knows nothing about.
Now years later, I keep running into him.
Fate is playing this sick game with me.
It’s making it hard to keep our child from him.
I know that trouble is right around the corner.
So is heartbreak.
And did I mention that I could lose everything I care about?
Including my own kid?
Prologue
Edwina
Five Years Ago
“Make yourself comfortable.”
I stood, rooted to the spot, watching the back of the man who just told me to make myself comfortable as he walked into the suite.
Make myself comfortable indeed.
What the hell was I doing? I must’ve been dreaming. That was the only place that any of this could make sense.
The suite was huge, a lot nicer than the one me and my husband were checked into. The thought made me cringe a little bit. Where was he right now? He had just watched another man escort his wife up to the suite, what was that like? To be honest I was expecting a fight. Maybe a little tissue for my honor? Something. Instead, I got this.
“Can I get you a drink love?” he asked suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. “All I have a scotch though, sorry. Anything you want, I can order room service.”
Oh, can you, I thought cynically. Why was he being so… so nice? This didn’t feel like the behavior of a man who would essentially buy another man’s wife off of him. Just 20 minutes ago, we were downstairs together at the casino. My husband was there too with a few other men.
My husband.
I thought it was a joke when he put me up in the card game. I laughed. Everyone around the table laughed. It was a joke. It was ridiculous. Who would think of leveraging their wife in a bet? He was drunk and just pulling other guys’ legs, just getting a laugh out of them, that was what it was supposed to be.
Only it wasn’t. He was dead serious, and here I was. I was this man’s prize. He had won me fair and square in a bet and now…
I got a bad feeling thinking about what now. I squared my shoulders, crossed my arms and stalked over to the sofa.
“Still drinking, are you?” I said. “Didn’t have enough of that downstairs?”
The man laughed and looked at me with a slightly bemused expression on his face. In his hands were two tumblers of scotch.
“Not nearly enough.” He held one up. “Will you join me?”
I frowned at him. Who was this guy? I hadn’t really been paying attention to him downstairs but now he had my full attention. I have never met him before, and even though he didn’t look the part, it was obvious that he had money. Unlike most of the guys in the casino downstairs, he was wearing a regular white button-down shirt and some khakis. He stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of men wearing their most expensive suits. His hair was a messy mop of blond, right on the verge of being too long but working for him. I couldn’t deduce his job just from looking at him. The part of me that wasn’t completely enraged was a little curious. I mean, I was spending the night here now, it felt normal to ask who this person, my captor, was.
I walked past him to the bar and poured my own drink. I heard him scoff and walk over to the sofa. With my back turned to him, I took a couple of deep breaths, finally. I hated how nervous I was. This whole thing was a farce. If I walked out of this room right now, what would he do? I gave myself a generous pour of whiskey, then took a swig before turning around to face him. He was sitting on the sofa with one of the drinks in front of him on the table and the other in his hand.
“I hope you’re not expecting to get lucky.”
He coughed and almost choked on his drink. “I’m sorry?”
“Just because my husband thinks I can be bought and sold in a game, doesn’t mean I’m about to spread my legs for you.”
He shrugged and smiled wryly. I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from him, but I was preparing myself for the worst. If I was judging my husband for putting a woman up in a card game, I had to judge the guy who wanted to win one too.
“I wouldn’t presume that you were going to spread anything for me,” he said. “Not even jam on my scone.”
I giggled silently. That didn’t mean I trusted him. All that meant was he cracked a funny joke and I didn’t feel that uncomfortable anymore. I was still uncomfortable. The situation was still one hundred percent absurd, but I wasn’t scared. I was angry, I was confused, I was a little cranky after wearing heels all night, but I wasn’t scared anymore. I sucked down some more of my scotch then looked at the man on the sofa.
“What kind of man wagers his wife in a card game?” I asked out loud.
“Either one who knows he isn’t going to lose her, or…”
“Or what?” I asked. I felt like I knew what he was going to say but he was just pausing because he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Newsflash. My husband has just turned me over to another man in a bet. There was nothing that could hurt my feelings more than that.
“I don’t want to make assumptions about the kind of man that he is, but people who put up with their wives, kids, homes up for collateral when they gamble aren’t doing it for fun anymore.”
“Great. So, my husband is a gambling addict?”
“You said it, not me.”
I laughed at his little quip and walked over to the sofa. “You’re probably right. I mean what kind of crazy man does something like that? And then he lost! He didn’t care whether I ended up with some stranger.”
“If I was him, I would keep much better tabs on you.”
I took a swig of my drink, clearing it. “I mean, what kind of man does something like that? Would you do something like that?” I could hear my speech slurring a little. The scotch was working.
“I know that the correct answer to that question is no, never.” He looked at me with wide, innocent eyes like he wasn’t in the casino himself. It made me laugh. I got up to pour myself another drink. I was buzzed. I didn’t feel wobbly on my feet yet, but I was definitely no longer sober. It felt good to talk about my husband. Maybe talking to someone else besides the guy who had won me in a bet would’ve been preferable, but so far, he was a good listener. He wasn’t that bad to look at either.
That was the booze talking but I liked what I was hearing. I was in a stranger’s suite after my husband lost me in a bet. We were past the point of things making sense anymore.
“I didn't even want to marry him,” I blurted out.
“Oh really?” he asked. I shrugged. I had never really said it out loud before but yeah, it was true.
“I didn't pick him. We never really dated or anything. We were matched. My family picked him. He was the honorable choice. He’s from a good family, whatever the hell that means. He’s a Baron and that got them. An eligible bachelor, hadn't been married before and was looking for a wife himself. Can you believe that? I'm married to this guy because he was ready to be married and he matches all my family requirements.”
“I can believe that,” he said. I raised an eyebrow.
“How so?”
“We'
re in the same boat, love. Well, sort of. My family has been breathing down my neck about finding the right girl to marry since before I could walk.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s an aristocratic twat,” he said, rolling his eyes. “They care about things like that.”
“Obviously we’re not in the same boat since you're not married. Unless?”
He smiled, taking a drink of his scotch. “No, I'm not married. I wouldn't be putting wagers on other people's wives if I was married.”
The joke was kind of dark but I laughed.
“I bet your family would recoil in horror they knew I was here now.”
“They would, but I don't really care what they think. I'm the only person who has to be pleased with my life choices. If I followed what they wanted for me, I'd just end up like them. Repressed, held down by centuries of traditions that don't make sense anymore.”
I went up and sat down next to him. “That's admirable in a weird way.”
“Not many people call it admirable. Usually, I get selfish, foolish, disrespectful.”
“Well, yeah it's all those things too, but it can be admirable at the same time.”
He laughed. “The way I see it, they're asking me to live by rules that were written before I showed up, which I never had a chance to agree to. I didn't ask for them to be my parents. I didn't ask to be born into this family, and just because I was, doesn't mean that I can't be who I am. I'm not responsible for their legacy. The only person I'm responsible for is me.”
“That's an interesting philosophy.”
He shrugged. “That's just how I try to do things. I figure that as long as I'm not hurting anybody, then I should be allowed to do it.”
“It must have been hard standing up to your family like that,” I said, partly thinking out loud. We had similar backgrounds. I knew that I never could have stood up to my family the way he had. That was why I was in this current situation in the first place. They would have disowned me or worse but from here, I was curious what truly could be worse than what was happening now.
“Yeah, well they don't like it but there isn’t anything they can do about it, is there?” His arm went up and went around the back of the sofa, resting on my shoulders. My body inched closer to his.
I didn't hate this. I didn't hate this at all. It was kind of nice and getting better by the second.
“You know,” I started to say, but then I trailed off because his hand started making the little shapes on my shoulder. It trailed up the skin and took a light grip on my neck. I had the vague thought to ask him to stop but then what if he actually did?
“What?” he asked. What indeed. What was I doing? What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking. I was allowing myself to feel, and right then, I felt good. I felt comfortable. I felt betrayed by my husband, but comforted by this... this stranger, even though he didn't feel like one anymore.
I wanted him. Like, wanted him. A discovery like that should have made me feel guilt but it didn’t.
Why not?
Cheating on my husband had never crossed my mind before. Never. As soon as I said my vows, I meant them, even though he wasn't my choice and I wasn't sure that he would do the same for me.
Why not? Why not take the plunge? I was in a beautiful suite with a beautiful man who was attracted to me.
I could have ended up with a completely disgusting toad who won me in a card game, but instead, it was this guy. A young, handsome playboy with a rebellious streak and a great body if the muscles in his arm were anything to go by.
Why not? I basically had my husband's blessing. What would he do if he won someone's wife in a game?
“I think I need another drink,” I said. He got up and poured us both new drinks.
“Yeah, so I was saying,” I said.
“What is it?” he asked, sitting. If I didn't do it now, my nerve would run out. I leaned in and I kissed him. Heat sizzled between us and I grabbed the collar of his shirt, but then he pushed me away. His blue eyes were clouded, but intense searching mine.
“Babe,” he said. “Are you sure you want this? I never expected it coming up here. I swear,” he said probably reading disbelief on my face. “I thought your husband was crazy for putting you up in the game and I knew that me winning would give you the best shot, so you didn’t end up with some old lout. I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with.”
“This has nothing to do with my husband.”
He tucked some of my hair behind my ear, still searching my eyes, giving me a chance to tell him to stop. “Are you sure about that? I don't consider you a prize.”
That was fine because I did. I kissed him again and this time he didn't push me away. One of his hands got lost in my hair, and the other went around my waist and pulled me into him. My dress rode up around my hips as I straddled his lap. He groaned, his hands going straight to my ass, squeezing. We were both a little buzzed but that was pure lust.
It felt amazing. After essentially being tossed by my husband, this was just what my self-esteem… and a lot of my other parts needed.
We were on the sofa, and then he hoisted me into the air and turned, lowering me to the sofa where he had been sitting. I watched breathlessly as he got down on his knees in front of me. He looked me in the eye, running his hands up my thighs. They stopped shy of my panties. He looked at me with a question in his eyes.
Yes, yes, I wanted him to take them off. I raised my hips and pulled them off. He threw them across the room and grabbed my thighs, pulling me towards him. I laughed, falling back into the couch.
“What’s funny?” he asked. His lips on my clitoris took the words right out of my mouth. I grabbed his head, arching my back. It had been a little while. There was nothing in the way of passion with my husband. I didn’t even blame him; we weren’t in love. We had sex because according to him, sex from me was his conjugal right but he never did this for me.
Niall’s tongue worked shapes over my clitoris, and then his fingers pressed against my entrance. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to push him away and pull him in at the same time. I could feel my orgasm coming.
“Niall,” I whispered. He didn’t stop, pushing me right off the edge. I lost it. I cried out, my legs quaking. My whole body ignited. I fell limp, feeling like he had hollowed me out. I was barely aware of him getting up and standing between my legs.
“Going somewhere?” I asked, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. He grinned.
“I’m taking you with me.”
Niall
Present Day
Dearest Niall,
I trust that you have been keeping well. The household is fine. I would never write simply to trouble you. Make your way home this month. You're needed on family business. We expect you on the first.
All my love,
Father.
The letter was written on his personal stationery in fine calligraphy. The letter. My father sent me a letter. Who the hell even did that anymore? But then again, a text message from him would have been more of a shock. The fact that he addressed it ‘dearest Niall’ was enough of an indicator that he hadn’t written it himself.
The letter was short and managed to tell me exactly nothing. I seldom came home. It didn't really feel like home, so what was the use? I balled the letter up and launched it across the room, narrowly missing the wastepaper basket. I was at a hotel. Who the hell came back to their home town and stayed at a hotel? With just one word from me, my living quarters would have been arranged at the family home, but again, it wasn't really a family home if you didn't feel like family.
It wasn't the first yet. I had flown into London early so that I could have some time alone before facing him. It was just him. My mother had died a long time ago. I didn’t know how much better she was because she was married to him, but at the very least, she had more patience than he did. Maybe that was just me remembering her fondly and wanting some connection, any connection with my so-called family.
> I knew better by now than to look for it. What was wrong with me? I was strangely sentimental all of a sudden. Must have been being back in rainy old London again. The weather in New York had its moments but London’s constant precipitation was something I had never missed. It was already night time. I had slept on the flight here from New York so I wasn't tired. I was restless. I didn't want to stay here and I certainly didn't want to look my dad up, not even to tell him that I had gotten here safely. Let's face it, he didn't care.
I went up to the bar. I liked this hotel. Compared to other chain places, it was smaller but a hundred times more exclusive. Their presidential suite was always ready for me whenever I needed it, which granted wasn't often. If I wanted though, I could have my own personal bartender up here mixing drinks for me.
I never did anything too fancy. I mixed myself a quick gin and soda and downed it. I was heading out tonight. London was full of places to go and get into trouble if that was what you were looking for. I preferred New York, but that was just because of the distance mostly. American girls loved the accent and there was so much you could get away with once they knew you were a any kind of titled gentleman. They loved that British aristocracy shit. I never used the title to get girls these days. I wasn’t really on the hunt anymore.
My suite was huge but I still felt strangely closed in. After one more drink, enough to get a little bit of a buzz going, I headed out. Right across the street from the hotel was a casino. There was a fine drizzle coming down as usual. I put a jacket on and went. I was greeted at the entrance by name. This place was exclusive, exclusive and old. The members list featured international businessmen, celebrities and members of various country’s royal families. Hobbyists didn't come here, only people hoping to do some serious damage. All the men in my family were members but as far as I knew, I got the most mileage out of mine.
Admit You Miss Me: A Surrogate Pregnancy Romance (Irresistible Billionaires Book 1) Page 19
