Bleeding Hearts: The Complete Duet

by A. Zavarelli

  “What kind of scholarship?” I asked. “They’re little girls, so I don’t know how that would work.”

  “Well, I know,” Nicole said thoughtfully. “But maybe we could expand into older age brackets too. We could even do a scholarship for a ballet school every couple of years if it fits into the budget.”

  I mulled over her words carefully before I realized how much they made sense. When I started all of this, I was only thinking of girls around Sophia’s age who would have been nine or younger. But it wasn’t fair to exclude the older kids who didn’t have access to these kinds of programs.

  “I think you’re right,” I agreed. “It sounds like a good idea.”

  “I’ll do some poking around,” she said. “And tell you what I come up with.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “So what do you need from me for the charity gala?”

  “Well, we’re meeting with Alex Burton next week. He’s interested in the foundation, and I have a really good feeling about this.”

  “Why does that name sound familiar?” I asked.

  “Because…” Nicole glanced at Matt and then back to me. “It’s one of Ryland’s competitors. He’s probably not going to like it, but this isn’t about him.”

  “Oh.”

  I really didn’t want to start poking the bear again already, but Nicole was right. This was about the charity and not about Ryland’s business.

  “I’m sure he’ll understand,” I said. “As long as we keep business out of it. This is just for Sophia’s Shoes.”

  “Absolutely.” Nicole grinned. “This guy is a big fish, and I want to reel him in while I’ve got a chance.”

  “How did you even get him to agree to a meeting?” I asked.

  So far we’d been struggling to find big donors for such a small charity.

  “Brighton, you underestimate me.” She laughed. “I still have plenty of contacts in the industry.”

  I smiled too because I remembered the last time she’d said those words. It was because she was helping Ryland plan his revenge. We’d come a long way since then, and I trusted Nicole with all my heart now.

  “Anything else?” I asked. “Do you need help with the planning?”

  “Nope.” She shook her head. “Got it all covered. I just need you to show up and smile while you mix with the wealthy and convince them to sign over some hard earned money to our cause.”

  “I’m sure with Ryland beside me it won’t be an issue.” I grinned. “He’ll do all the work just by showing up.”

  “I think you’re right,” she agreed. “I’ve got a really good feeling about this.”

  “Me too. So now that we’ve got all of that settled…” I folded my hands across the counter and took on a serious expression. “It’s onto the second order of business.”

  Nicole wiggled around in her seat and clasped her hands together in eager anticipation. I’d made her wait for the news because I knew she’d be dragging me to every shopping center in a fifty-mile radius once I told her.

  “Oh my God,” she squeaked. “It’s a boy, isn’t it? I just know it’s a boy.”

  I kept my expression flat, giving nothing away. How the hell did she know that?

  “I read online that if you’re carrying low, it’s a boy.”

  I knew that was an old wives’ tale. Still, I looked down at my belly and frowned. “How can you tell?”

  “I don’t really know,” Nicole admitted. “But once I read it I thought it looked that way to me. Or maybe I just really want it to be a boy.”

  “Well, then I guess you’ll be happy to know you’ve gotten your way?”

  She clapped her hands over her mouth and then smacked Matt in the chest. He grinned.

  “Seriously?” she gasped. “It’s a boy. Oh my God. We have to go shopping.”

  Point made.

  “Yes, Nicole.” I rolled my eyes. “We’ll have to go shopping. Maybe next week.”

  “Tomorrow,” she insisted. “I can’t wait any longer.”

  Matt gave me a shrug that said everything I needed to know. Just like Ryland, Nicole was used to getting her way.

  “Alright,” I relented. “Tomorrow it is then.”

  ***

  During the course of our time apart, I realized that I’d missed Ryland’s birthday. I felt horrible about it, especially when I learned that it was the night he came over to my apartment. The night he discovered I’d hidden the baby from him.

  When I brought it up with Nicole, she told me he hadn’t done anything for his birthday for the last six years. It broke my heart. Ryland gave me anything I wanted without blinking an eye, and he never made me feel guilty for it. He insisted that his money was mine, and I shouldn’t have any qualms about spending it.

  It still felt weird though, and I didn’t like to go overboard on things. In a way, I was grateful that he was so involved in the whole process. We didn’t buy anything- whether it was car seats or baby toys- until he’d looked at all the safety specs first. Again, it was just another one of his freakishly adorable traits.

  But when it came to his birthday present, I had no idea what to get him. Buying something at a store- with his money no less- felt cheap. So over the last two weeks, I’d worked on something else. Something that came from the heart. I had no idea if he was going to like it or not, but I’d compiled everything I could think of into a scrapbook of our time together. There were quotes and lyrics that reminded me of him or things he’d said to me during our time together that I wanted to remember. I’d written him little notes about some of the good memories I had and told him about the first pregnancy moments I’d experienced without him. I wanted him to be a part of it, all of it, and to know how much I loved him.

  I’d been sneaking photos of him at every opportunity I got, and even some photos of us together. He was surprisingly okay with that, and it usually led to him sneaking photos of me for his own private stash. When I’d found that he actually printed off a candid photo of me and placed it on his desk beside his growing collection, we had another memory to add to his office that afternoon.

  Now I was at the apartment, prepared to finally give him the present I’d worked so hard on. I’d spent the entire afternoon attempting to cook him a nice dinner, and nothing was going to plan. By the time he came in, I was covered in flour and frustration. My roast had burnt, and my chocolate cake was under cooked.

  I was going to be a terrible mother.

  “Brighton?” he shot me a questioning glance when he saw the mess around me.

  Suddenly, it wasn’t just his birthday that I’d ruined, it was a whole lot of other things. I was a big fat failure, and I was terrified for my poor baby. Tears welled in my eyes, and I tried to shoo him away. He didn’t leave of course. He strode right over and pulled me against his chest, no concern whatsoever that I was getting his clothes dirty.

  He gripped my chin and tilted, his blue eyes searching mine.

  “What’s the matter, baby girl?”

  “I don’t know how I’m going to do this,” I blurted. “Moms are supposed to be able to cook for their children. I can’t even do it for you.”

  He laughed and gave me a little squeeze, pressing a tender kiss against my temple. Then he grabbed my hand and led me to the sofa, gesturing for me to sit. I watched him unbutton his collar and roll up his sleeves before he sat down beside me and pulled me into his lap.

  “We’ll order out tonight.” His fingers massaged my neck, making me forget my epic failure as his warmth seeped into me. He had such a calming effect on me when he wanted to.

  “You don’t have to know how to cook to be a good mother, Brighton,” he continued. “And besides, I’m sure you’ll learn if you really want to.”

  “It isn’t fair, though,” I protested.

  “What isn’t?” he asked, brushing my hair back over my shoulders.

  “You’re smart and beautiful and perfect, and you’ll be able to teach him everything,” I complained. “You don’t even have to try to be a
good father. But what do I have to offer?”

  Ryland stiffened beneath me, his palm pulling my gaze back to his.

  “You really think that?” he asked. “You think I’m going to be a good father?”

  I couldn’t believe he even had to ask. I knew he was. But there was a hint of worry in his eyes, and I realized I wasn’t the only one who was afraid. I gave him a soft smile and stroked his cheek, enjoying the way he closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. “An overprotective one, sure. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  His lips found mine, and he kissed me long and hard before pulling back with a lazy smile.

  “Brighton, you’re going to be great, I promise you. You already have everything you need.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll be like Norma,” I admitted. “I’m afraid I won’t know how to show affection or say the right things.”

  “Baby.” He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. “You have nothing to worry about. You aren’t anything like Norma.”

  He didn’t say it with anger or hatred, but just like he was stating a fact. And it reassured me for some reason.

  “What was your mom like?” I whispered.

  Ryland frowned and buried his face in my neck, holding me close while the silence stretched between us. I knew he didn’t like to talk about these things, but I wanted him to. I wanted him to remember the good things about his family, and I wanted to know them in the only way that I could.

  “She was incredible,” he finally murmured against my skin. “Everything a kid could ask for. The whole cookie-baking, soccer mom, white picket fence Americana. A genius too.”

  “Wow,” I remarked. “So that’s where you get it.”

  “She was a senior analyst for Selvek Communications back in Chicago when my father met her. But once she had me, she gave it all up to be a stay at home mom. I asked her once if she ever regretted it, but she said it was the best decision she ever made.”

  “I’m sure she meant it, Ryland.” I threaded my fingers through his and gave him a shaky smile. “I’m sure they both loved you very much.”

  “She didn’t know how critical my father’s finances were,” he said quietly. “I certainly didn’t. He kept up pretenses that everything was okay. He’d sent me to business school and groomed me to take over his company even though he was on the brink of self-destruction.”

  It was difficult to imagine why a father would ever turn to men like Frankie’s boss for money. But when I thought about the position he was in, there was a small part of me that tried to understand. He had a family to take care of, one that he didn’t want to let down. I never wanted Ryland to feel that way.

  “You know that even if you lost everything, and we had to live in a cardboard box, I’d still be by your side.”

  He looked down at me with fiercely possessive eyes and a lazy grin. “I know you would, Brighton. But I’m always going to take care of you.”

  His hands started to roam, and I knew we wouldn’t get anything accomplished if I let it go on. So I stood up and walked to the breakfast bar to grab his present.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I have something for you,” I told him as I took my place back in his lap.

  He stared down at the package in my hands with an odd expression before lifting his gaze to mine.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a very belated birthday gift.” I smiled.

  He reached towards it tentatively, but there was a hint of impatience on his face. My stomach fluttered as I handed it off to him, and now I had no idea if he was going to like it.

  “It’s nothing big,” I said. “So don’t get too excited… I just…”

  He reached down and kissed me hard and quick to shut me up. “Shh… don’t do that thing.”

  “What thing?” I asked.

  “That thing where you try to make it seem like it’s nothing.”

  I pouted, and he ripped off the paper, flipping open the book. When he saw the first page and my inscription, the smile slipped from his face and turned to something else. I couldn’t quite make it out, but I knew it wasn’t disappointment.

  He was quiet for a long time as he flipped through each page meticulously, taking it all in while I held my breath. When he finally got to the last page and shut the book, I was already about to do the thing again.

  “Brighton…” his voice was rough as he stared at me with cloudy eyes. “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me.”

  My chest swelled with pride and relief as I ran my fingers through his hair, my eyes roaming over his face for what must have been the millionth time since I’d met him. He only became more handsome with each passing day. The blue of his irises were tinted with small fractals of shattered crystal. How easily they could change, and yet even at their darkest, they were a terrifyingly beautiful sight. Long black lashes fluttered closed as I traced the lines of his perfect jaw and nose with my fingertips.

  How could someone so striking ever want to be with me? I still didn’t know. He was the embodiment of refinement, intelligence… he exuded confidence in spades. His body was a work of art in the nude or in his favored Brioni suits. Sometimes when I looked at him, I couldn’t comprehend that his beauty was real. That by his own admission, he existed solely for me and no one else.

  A small part of me still feared that he would outgrow this attachment. That at some point, he would realize the girl sitting in front of him was less than he deserved. He’d done awful things, it was true. But it didn’t place us on an even playing field. I wasn’t and never would be in a league with him. The intensity of my fears and insecurities threatened to snuff out everything good between us as I reached up and gripped his collar.

  “Don’t ever leave me,” I implored. “Don’t ever grow tired of me, Ryland. I won’t be able to handle it.”

  “Fuck me,” he muttered as he gripped my face painfully. “That is never going to happen, baby girl. Never.”

  He reached down and ripped my blouse at the seams, sending buttons scattering everywhere. Solid, warm fingers slipped over my lace clad breasts, making my head fall back as I gripped his biceps. I was so sensitive there that the slightest touch had me drunk with lust.

  His head dipped and burrowed between them for a moment before he slipped my bra straps off my shoulders and down. His hot, wet mouth latched onto me, and a feral groan escaped my chest as I cradled his head against me.

  He sucked me long and hard, flicking my nipple with his tongue while he murmured reverent words into my skin. He repeated the same process on my other breast, and I thought I might explode from this act alone. It was so intimate the way he sucked on them now like he couldn’t get enough of them. Like he’d love to stay there for days on end.

  I would gladly let him.

  I massaged his neck and shoulders and watched with hooded eyes as he took long deep pulls with his mouth. Finally, he released me with a pop and brought his hungry mouth to mine.

  My lips parted for him, and he swept his tongue inside, drinking me in like he couldn’t get enough. At some point during the ravenous kiss, he lifted me up and bent me over the sofa.

  My skirt came down and pooled around my ankles before his hands slipped inside of my panties and fondled my ass. And then he kneeled behind me, quickly dispensing with the panties altogether. His lips trailed over me, kissing every inch of my bottom while he squeezed the flesh with his palms.

  His gentleness was replaced with the scrape of his teeth, and my breath began to quicken as I gripped the sofa with white knuckles. This was what I loved. What I needed from him.

  His possession. His obsession. His need to claim me. I hoped he would never stop claiming me.

  I moaned when he sank his teeth into the fleshy part of my ass and then soothed it with his tongue and a tender kiss. Gentle and rough at the same time. That was my lover in a nutshell.

  He stood up and spanked my ass right over the bite mark, shocking me. And then his cock was rubbing against me, so
aking wet with my arousal.

  “You like that, baby girl?” he asked gruffly.

  “Yes,” I panted.

  “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

  “Fuck me,” I begged.

  He laughed and ground his hardness against my ass. “Such a filthy mouth. I should punish you for that.”

  A whimper escaped me as his hands gripped my hips, pulling me back against the engorged head of his cock. He slid partially inside without any resistance from my body and then held impossibly still. Pure torture. Hot fingers grazed the length of my spine, stroking all the places he’d marked me with his initials. I wondered if he was thinking of them now.

  “Do you miss your trophies?” I asked.

  His hand trailed up the curve of my back and over my neck. A tug on my hair and my gaze met his.

  “You’re my trophy,” he declared as he thrust deep inside of me.

  I whimpered, and his fingers clamped down on my shoulders, an unconscious and unnecessary reminder that he was in absolute control of me. I loved that. I never wanted him to stop.

  He pressed his body against me, the warmth of his chest radiating into my back. Somewhere along the way, he’d managed to discard his shirt without me even realizing it. This was how I preferred him. Skin on skin. Nothing between us. I knew he loved it too.

  His fingers brushed over the pulse in my throat, letting me know he was there without any pressure. It excited me nonetheless.

  “Tell me I’m the only one who will ever have you,” he whispered in my ear.

  “You’re the only one,” I mewled. “You’ve been the only one. You always will.”

  “You look so fucking hot like this,” he declared. “Bent over and stuffed full of my cock. Swollen with my baby. Christ, Brighton, it does me in just looking at you.”

  His hips smacked against my ass and my moans vibrated all the way down my spine. I was so close, and his words were forcing me over the edge. His fingers reached around and played with my clit roughly while his other clamped over my mouth. I nearly buckled from the pressure building inside me and Ryland had to hold me up as I finally exploded around him.