by Trisha Grace
Helena chuckled. “I don’t want to run.” She licked her lips. “I do wish Judith and Nigel were here.”
Aunt Beth wrapped her arm around her waist. “You have me.”
Helena nodded, just as they heard the quartet start to play.
“And I’m sorry about Judith,” Aunt Beth continued. “Her stepsisters are seriously the worst human beings.”
Liam had sent a ticket to fly Judith out for an all-expensess-paid trip, but her stepsisters found out and had, at the last moment, destroyed her passport. So she was stuck. She’d tried to sound strong when she called, but Helena could hear that she’d been crying.
“Absolute worst.”
Aunt Beth rubbed a hand down the lace material on her back. “But I’m here.”
Killian and Cassian opened the door of the Garden Palace. The usually crowded tourist area had been closed off for their wedding. Beyond the wooden doors, standing on the terrace that overlooked a gorgeous garden, was Liam.
He was in a tailored black suit and a white shirt. A black tie was tucked neatly into his suit jacket. He locked eyes with her, and the wide smile he had for her was brilliant.
“And there’s the most important person.” Aunt Beth took her hand. “Ready?”
She smiled. “I’m ready.” She was more than ready. She wanted to run to Liam. She wanted to say her I-do and start her life with Liam.
She could feel the crunch of small stones under her heels as they walked toward Liam, and she squeezed Aunt Beth’s hand tighter. Behind Liam was a garden blooming with stunning flowers, but all she could see was Liam.
Her heart was thumping so fast, and everything around her faded.
Aunt Beth held her hand firmly and walked in time with the beat of the beautiful tune. At least that was what she assumed.
“I love you, sweetie.” Aunt Beth leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m so happy for you.” She transferred Helena’s hand to Liam. “You take care of her.”
“With my life.”
Aunt Beth nodded and gave him a peck on the cheek. She stepped back after flashing another grin at Helena.
Helena sighed as Liam tightened his grip around her hand. One touch. One touch and it felt like home. They were miles and miles away from the house they were building, but it didn’t matter where they were. All that mattered was that Liam was here with her.
“Last chance to run, Helena,” Elias said.
Liam sighed heavily. “Why did I agree to let him officiate our wedding?”
Helena chuckled. “Not going anywhere. Not without him.”
Elias nodded then. “Then let’s get your happily-ever-after under way.”
“One more.”
Liam’s brothers groaned.
“Just one more photo.” Aunt Beth checked her camera. “I promise.”
Helena looked over at Liam with an apologetic smile, and he drew her close to kiss her.
“Perfect.” Aunt Beth stuck her thumb up. “You’re all dismissed.”
Helena sighed softly and turned, leaning against Liam’s chest. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close. “You all right, Mrs. Black?”
She grinned up at him. “Yes, Mr. Black.”
Cassian cleared his throat. “We have a wedding present for you two.” He tapped on his phone, and Liam’s phone buzzed.
Liam drew his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the link Cassian sent. A webpage loaded, and on it were dozens of videos.
“Killian created the website.” Elias put his arms around Killian and Cassian. “Cassian contacted everyone, and Trevor and I went around to record the videos. Your aunt edited them.”
Liam clicked on one of the videos.
“Congratulations, Liam and Helena! I’m Ellie.” The brunette in the video cocked her head to the side. “And this is my husband, Nick.” The man grinned and waved. “We met and got married in under a month, and we’ve been married for twenty years.”
Helena laughed.
“You wanted proof that whirlwind romances work,” Cassian said.
“This is such a sweet and thoughtful present.” Helena gave his brothers and her aunt each a peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Welcome to the family,” Trevor said.
Elias grinned. “You’re now a member of the illegitimates.”
Liam tugged Helena to him and kissed her hair.
“There’s a video from Edward Eolenfeld, too,” Killian said. “I thought you’d like to have something from him.”
“You went to Thailand to get a video?”
As promised, Liam had helped get Edward out of the mansion and onto a private jet that flew him to a secret location in Thailand. The Eolenfelds had been livid. Lawsuits had been threatened. Curses had been spewed.
But in spite of how loudly they were all barking, no one did anything.
Elias shook his head. “We just emailed him. I know you’re close to him, but we don’t really …”
“It’s okay.” Helena gave Elias’s arm a squeeze. “I understand. Thank you.”
“Champagne?” Their wedding planner strode over with a silver tray holding seven filled flutes.
They each took one.
“Just a sip.” Aunt Beth pointed at her. “You don’t usually drink.”
“Don’t worry.” Liam bent and whispered into her ear, “I got you.”
Midnight, Happily-Ever-After: The Illegitimates Book 2, will be out soon!
For now, if you’d like to read more of Trisha’s books, check out:
Home To You, a sweet small town romance mystery
Alexander is supposed to be dead. Not breaking into Emily's house in the middle of the night.
Get Home To You for FREE on Kindle Unlimited
Or $2.99 on Amazon
Having your motion
sensor alarm triggered at two in the morning is never a good thing—especially if you have a target on your back.
Emily Bennett is tired of traveling around the world and chasing story after story as an investigative journalist. She is tired of living—as her parents have always said—recklessly. Now that she is a successful murder-mystery writer, she thinks it is time to try and lead a normal life.
Time to settle down and live life quietly.
And she is doing just that—in the picturesque beach town of Anchorville, Oregon.
But two weeks after moving into her beautiful new home, a man triggers her motion sensor alarm at two in the morning.
Minutes later, she is in the living room—a gun in hand—facing down the intruder.
An intruder who is supposed to be dead.
Emily wants answers. Unfortunately, Alexander Lewis doesn’t have any. He has lost his memory and is more confused about the situation than she is.
Emily doesn’t know what to do. She is supposed to be done with being reckless. She can’t possibly let Alexander stay, especially not when she suspects his aunt may be a murderer … right?
Get Home To You for FREE on Kindle Unlimited
Or $2.99 on Amazon
Or read on for the excerpt!
Home To You
Chapter 1
Emily Bennett grabbed the gun from her nightstand as she slipped out of bed. Less than a minute ago, her phone had alerted her to the triggering of the motion sensor she’d installed in her front yard.
A man—a hulk of a man—stood staring at her front door.
Even with the high definition night vision camera, he was too far away from the camera installed above her door to get a good view of his face.
For now, all Emily could see was a greenish pale face partially hidden by the cap the man was wearing.
Emily took a deep breath to calm her racing heart while staring at her phone’s screen. Walk away, she willed as she watched the live video feed streaming from the security camera.
She held her breath as the man made his way toward the front door, his cap still shielding his face from the camera. I’ll have to adjust the angle of the camera.
She’d installed the motion sensor and security camera half-heartedly. She wouldn’t let herself get complacent, but that directly contradicted her resolve to stop living in the shadow of what happened over three years ago.
Emily licked her lips as the man strode to her front door. She expected him to try breaking a window or to get down on one knee to pick the lock.
He did neither.
But Emily couldn’t see exactly what he was doing. His large frame took up most of the screen.
I really need to get a better angle. Or she could add another camera once she figured out what was causing the interference with the video feed. She’d spent quite a bit of time getting the security camera into a position that didn’t cause the live video stream to flicker every other second.
Her front door popped open.
Her heart rate ramped up another notch, and she drew a deep breath through her nose. No time to panic.
Emily tightened the grip on her gun. “Who are you?” She squinted at the screen, at the brazen intruder strolling through the door as if he belonged in the house. Another hired killer sent to put a bullet through my head?
But something about the way the intruder moved …
Hesitation? Uncertainty? Those weren’t characteristics of an assassin.
Regardless of who this guy was, Emily would deal with it. She couldn’t wait around and be a sitting duck in her bedroom. It wasn't her style.
Not bothering with her cushioned slippers, she quietly put her phone down on the nightstand, then headed toward the bedroom door.
Emily turned the doorknob slowly.
She had her thumb on the lock button, catching it as it popped back. That minimized the click. Still, she was concerned the softened sound might still give her away.
No time to hesitate.
In one swift move, she pulled the door back and stepped out with her gun leveled.
But only the cool air greeted her. The intruder hadn't made it to her bedroom door.
She turned with her gun, aiming at the hardwood stairs.
No one was there either.
Emily padded down the stairs barefooted.
Halfway down the stairs, she suppressed a shiver. A few seconds with the door open was enough to let in the frigid mid-January air.
But the weather wasn't what concerned her.
She had hoped to confront the intruder somewhere on the stairway so she would have the advantage of higher ground. But he hadn’t come up the stairs. Why? What’s he hoping to do?
Perhaps she’d gotten it wrong. Perhaps this wasn’t someone sent here to take her life. A home burglary? If she were a burglar, she would have chosen this house too. It was the largest house on the street. Since it was set right at the top of a slightly uphill road, the gorgeous beach house with powder-blue sidings and white window frames was also the most prominent.
Emily stepped off the last stair.
There in the middle of the living room was the intruder. He stood staring at the cloud-gray fabric couch. He was so focused he hadn’t noticed her coming down the stairs.
What’s he doing? Pushing her curiosity aside, she quickly moved behind him and leveled her gun. “What are you doing in my house?”
The giant turned to her. He’d appeared large on her phone’s screen, but she’d assumed that the angle of the camera skewed the proportions.
It hadn’t.
The man was easily over six feet tall. Bulging muscles stretched his T-shirt, which appeared too short for him, across his chest and biceps.
Emily couldn’t make out the intruder’s features, not in the darkness.
But his size was enough to make her rethink her decision. Perhaps confronting this guy isn’t the best idea. She should have called the police instead. She wasn’t in Eastern Europe now. The police—mostly—weren’t corrupt in the States. Surely not in the picturesque beach town of Anchorville, Oregon, where crimes were almost nonexistent.
Emily unlocked the safety on her gun. Her innate survival instincts yelled at her to shoot first and ask questions later.
But she couldn’t.
She couldn’t pull the trigger without knowing she didn't have any other choice.
Before Emily could even open her mouth to speak again, the intruder pounced on her.
The gun was knocked out of her hand as the back of her head hit the hardwood floor. The impact pushed all thoughts out of her mind, and the intruder loomed over her.
His shadowed face didn’t help calm her racing heart, and his nearness only reinforced how large he was.
Which was why it wouldn’t do her any good to remain under him.
She shifted and kicked out at one of his legs, then immediately flipped him over.
Emily’s head was still spinning when she got on top of him, but she didn’t have time to deal with that. She pulled her clenched fist back and slammed it down toward the intruder’s face.
But the intruder caught her wrist.
Her other fist was on its way toward the intruder’s nose, but it, too, was intercepted.
Emily struggled. But strength-wise, she was no match for him.
A moment passed between them as their eyes locked.
Neither of them said a word.
Neither of them moved.
Somewhere in his journey to the floor, the intruder had lost his cap. Now on the floor, his face was illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the bay windows.
Emily blinked. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “This can’t be.” Was she dreaming? Hallucinating? Had the impact to her head been more serious than she thought? “Alexander Lewis?”
The man’s brows drew together. “You know me?” His grip on her wrists loosened.
“You’re supposed to be dead.” His death had been reported in the news. The army held a funeral service for him.
“Well, I’m not.”
Emily studied the man under her. The Alexander under her appeared older than the photos she’d seen. Her gaze halted on the burn scars on one side of his neck that stretched up to his jawline.
That wasn’t in any of the photos.
This time, when she locked eyes with him, her gaze softened. Despite the calm facade, she could see the uncertainty and confusion swimming in his brown eyes.
“What are you doing in my parents’ house?” An earnest question. He wasn’t demanding a reason for her presence; he seemed truly uncertain about what was going on.
“Your aunt sold the house to me. I moved in a week ago.”
His eyes widened. “My aunt sold the house?” Again, his statement was infused with disbelief. There wasn't any hint of anger. “I have an aunt.”
“You don’t know you have an aunt?” She studied his face. He didn’t appear to be lying. Had he lost his memory?
Despite the stories she’d chased and written as an investigative journalist, she’d never met one person who had lost his memory. It was something she’d only ever seen on TV.
Alexander sighed, and Emily wanted to tell him that everything would be okay. But was it?
If Alexander had lost his memory, then he didn’t know how much things had changed since his supposed death.
Emily groaned inwardly, and her heart ached for the pain he would have to go through on top of what he was already dealing with. They remained where they were for another moment before Emily realized she was still sitting on top of a pile of muscle and quickly scrambled off him.
Alexander sat up and scanned the place, his gaze landing on the gun.
Emily followed his gaze and realized what he was staring at. They both reached for the gun.
Alexander, with his longer body and arms, got to the weapon first.
Before Emily could back away, Alexander dismantled it and dropped the parts on the floor next to him. She eyed him cautiously when he turned to her. Alexander wouldn’t need a gun to hurt her.
“I won’t hurt you. I just don’t want you waving the gun around.”
Emily didn't know Alex
ander, but she believed him. It didn't make sense, but her gut had never been wrong. “Everyone thought you were dead.” She stood and extended a hand to Alexander. He probably didn’t need any help getting up, but it was her apology for pointing the gun at him.
Alexander took her hand and got to his feet.
Instead of letting go right away, he held on to her hand as if he was afraid she would run from him.
It should have been awkward, but it didn’t feel that way.
It felt … right.
Which didn’t make sense.
They stood looking at each other wordlessly for a moment before he dropped her hand.
Emily drew a deep breath through her nose. “The newspapers said you were dead.” She had done some research before buying the house. She was curious about why Alexander’s aunt seemed so anxious to sell the place. The house was put up for sale two days after Helen Lewis, Alexander’s mother, passed away.
And his aunt was way too eager to offload the place.
Emily had offered to buy the house at thirty percent below the asking price. She didn’t think she would get it, but she thought they could negotiate.
An hour later, her real estate agent called and told Emily that she got the house—along with everything in it. The furniture, electronics, and everything that used to belong to the previous residents.
All Alexander’s aunt wanted was Helen Lewis’s jewelry and whatever cash was in the house.
Emily switched on the lights, and Alexander blinked.
The muscles along his strong jawline were tight with tension, as were the muscles in the rest of his large frame. Though his back was rigidly straight, his shoulders were slightly slumped. His dark brown hair was slightly longer than the crew cut soldiers usually wore, his bangs falling over his forehead.
