by Lana Grayson
If she was strong enough to survive, to face my father, to plot her revenge, then I would be too.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry.”
I kissed her forehead, speaking with a renewed strength of hope and promise.
“Don’t ever apologize for what happened.” My words stilled her trembling. “Don’t ever apologize. There’s only one thing to discuss, Sarah. And it’s important.”
She nodded, letting me brush the tears from her face. “What is it?”
I kissed her, letting a soft smile chase away her sorrow. “We need to think of a name for our baby.”
12
Sarah
Sabotaging the Bennett Corporation’s Board of Directors began too close at home.
First, I had to endanger my own company. Shelling out millions to Darius Bennett was an exercise in humility and patience for me and my board. Generations of hate once prevented my family from thinking beyond the petty rivalry. One night changed that.
Now I understood how to get my revenge and ruin the Bennett Empire.
If it cost me a couple million dollars, so be it.
The Atwood board and the presidents of my divisions weren’t happy, and I switched off the web chat with a fake smile and promises to visit the farms within the month. I had to do the tours soon. I didn’t have much time before I started to show.
When that happened, the questions would begin.
It had to be in motion before the baby revealed himself. Just the whisper of Bennett would complicate everything.
Especially since the baby belonged to my step-brother.
It had to be Nicholas’s child.
He knocked on his own bedroom door. The room was mine, unconditionally. He hadn’t pressured to join me at night, but his sheets smelled of him. Masculine and sharp.
The fireplace in the corner housed a beautiful sitting area for my computer and workspace.
A good place for a bassinet, he had said.
“How’d it go?” Nicholas asked.
“The board doesn’t understand why I ordered the change to Bennett products.”
“And you didn’t explain.”
I fiddled with the modem beside my laptop. When I got nauseous, I pretended to have connectivity issues and unplugged the router. It worked twice.
“I can’t afford to explain. I need my fields treated and growing before we make the next move.”
“It’s dangerous.”
I shrugged. “What isn’t dangerous anymore?”
Nicholas didn’t like the thought. He changed the subject.
He did that a lot lately.
“Let me get you something to eat,” he said.
I scrunched my nose. “Reed’s been leaving me salads, slushies, cookies, fruit. Nothing’s staying down.”
And Food was the only connection I had to Reed now. Both he and Max quieted after I revealed the truth. Only Nicholas looked me in the eyes. Held me. Promised me the world.
It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. But it didn’t stop him from trying.
“Trust me, Sarah. You’ll like this.”
Doubtful, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Anything was better than devouring only saltines and the occasional slice of an apple or can of sauerkraut—which would have been weird had I not snacked on it before I was pregnant.
Nicholas guided me to the dining room.
God, this man.
He decorated the table with roses and candlelight. Crystal serving glasses set around china dinnerware, complete with hand-folded napkins—an approximation of some sort of swan. He offered me a glass of cold milk. Milk was still touch-and-go, but he insisted. I waited as he lifted a silver carafe.
“How long was I in that meeting?” I peeked into the bowl. “No way.”
“I have on good authority one of your favorites is homemade cream of mushroom soup with wild rice,” he said. “Think you’re up to trying it?”
My mouth watered just looking at the creamy soup, and in a good way this time. He guided me to my seat and ladled a small bite into the bowl. He waited, eagerly, as I sampled it.
The soup tasted of home, comfort, and everything warm from my memory.
“How?” I asked.
“I have my sources.”
“Nick.”
His smile brightened the room more than the candles. I wished I saw more of it.
“I called your mom. Got the recipe.”
“She remembered?”
“You tell me.”
I swallowed another spoonful. My stomach eased immediately, and, for the first time in days, I kept something down.
“It’s perfect,” I said.
“I thought it would be.”
“You did all this for me?”
Nicholas sipped a glass of white wine. “I only made you dinner, Sarah. I should have known what your favorite meal was. I should have dined with you in candlelight and music—” He pulled his phone from his pocket. Hidden speakers in the room murmured a quiet jazz. “I should have done so much more for you. It starts now.”
“What does?”
“Everything. Us. You. Me.”
“Nick—”
“I want you here, with me,” he said. “Forever.”
So did I, but the need, the wanting was too dangerous. I hadn’t decided where to go or what to do. I thought the decision would be easier without the truth binding me in secret.
It did the opposite.
Nicholas insisted the baby was his. And now I recognized the proud, determined gaze as he offered me all of himself—his imperfections, failures, and the vow of devotion that came from loving Nicholas Bennett.
“Adam,” he said.
It didn’t feel right. I shook my head. “I’ll know it when I hear it.”
“Then let me suggest some. Jonathon?”
But what if it wasn’t a boy? What if the little one were a Juliet or a Piper? Would we talk about those? Or would we keep living in a quiet dread? My intuition said boy, I felt like it was a boy, but I wasn’t ready to face any other possibility.
“Giving him a name is important.” I lowered the spoon. “We have time.”
And so much could go wrong.
“It’ll be sooner than you think,” he said.
“We’re not harvesting yet.” I took another bite of the soup. “Then again, I can’t imagine this yield.”
He smirked. “Bumper crop this year.”
I giggled. “Yeah well, Bumper’s got some time left before he pops out.”
“Bumper Bennett.”
“Oh, great. He’ll inherit two billion dollar companies just to sell used cars for a living.”
I hadn’t laughed in a long time. I also hadn’t finished a full meal. I helped myself to seconds and pushed the bowl away with a victorious grin.
“You did well, Nicholas Bennett.”
“I promised I’d take care of you.”
I believed him. That’s why it was so hard.
I carried my bowl to the kitchen, but Nicholas didn’t let me straighten up. He pulled me to the living room, offering me the couch, a fuzzy blanket, and the remote.
“You should rest,” he said. “You look pale.”
Did I? Then there was a merciful God because what I was feeling wasn’t tired or sick.
Not at all.
A full belly and a clear conscience chased away the dark thoughts, the fear, and the uncertainty. But the hormones fueled something much more dangerous than weepy tears and fatigue.
It had been far too long since I last touched Nicholas, and even longer since I let myself think of our last night together. The few kisses he offered, I denied in self-preservation.
But I had confronted Darius.
I’d revealed the secret.
I’d confided in my step-brothers about the baby.
And yet, that hesitance remained. I hid my weaknesses, but I hadn’t let Nicholas touch me. I flinched away from Reed. I even shielded my tummy when Max raised his arms in a str
etch.
Surviving Darius’s hatred meant nothing if I still cowered from the men who promised only safety.
If I still denied my feelings for Nicholas.
The only sane and rational solution was to cut the Bennetts from my life and protect my child.
But he also needed a father.
I deserved to end Darius’s hold over me. I wanted to be loved again. Worshiped. Adored.
Pleasured.
Safe.
And Nicholas tempted me with such beautiful promises.
The curtains were open, revealing the sparkling city, a sunset, and the Santa Cruz mountains shadowed in the distance. I’d never get used to lights and traffic, or a sky without stars and a view without the green sprawl of growing corn. I missed the farm, but the longing to return dulled within Nicholas’s presence. Once I left, I’d endure a different type of homesickness.
I didn’t know when it happened, but Nicholas became my home.
He caught me looking at him, admiring how his dress shirt and dark trousers melded to his body. Whatever he did the night I was kidnapped, whatever he and Reed survived, washed away like the blood that stained his skin.
“Why are you doing all this?” I asked. “The penthouse. The dinner. You hired a guard to protect me, but you still keep Reed and Max here. What do you want?”
“You.”
He said it so easily, unapologetically. I ached for just an ounce of his confidence.
“You don’t understand how hard it is for me,” I said.
Nicholas knelt before me, close enough to touch. He respected the few inches of space separating our bodies. I still felt him, his heat. It warmed me, softening my guarded confusion and loneliness.
“I want to understand,” he said. “I know I can’t, but I’ll try, Sarah.”
I hadn’t whispered the thoughts I tucked deep down, secret and dark. It left me too vulnerable, especially to the man who forced that vulnerability on me. But I couldn’t hide from my own insecurities. I guarded myself so strictly I no longer understood what was right or wrong, strength or weakness. And maybe there wasn’t a clear definition. Maybe it didn’t matter.
Or maybe revealing everything to Nicholas would bind me to his power and trap me in the mire of my desperate feelings for him.
“I’m not broken,” I whispered.
“No one can break you. I learned that long ago.”
“But I still feel fractured,” I said. “You can’t see it, but it’s there. Thousands and thousands of little cracks straining to stay together in one piece. If I let go, I’ll crumble. And I can’t be put back together how I was.” I brushed my stomach. “Especially since there are more pieces now.”
Nicholas leaned close, the gold in his eyes fierce and honest. “You could fall and rebuild yourself an infinite amount of times, and each new you would be stronger than the last.”
“No. Every fall changes me. And as much as I’ve tried to recover from…the attack, there’s still a part of me that isn’t right. A part of me he controls.”
“The baby isn’t his.”
“It isn’t the baby, it’s me.” I took a breath. “I faced him. I told you the truth. But I still don’t understand myself or what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“Control over my own body. What I feel. Who I trust.”
He nodded. “You can trust me.”
“We’ve never trusted each other. Not when there was a collar around my neck and not now that…”
“What’s left to hide?” Nicholas looked away, revealing more of himself than I thought he’d give. “When I first met you, when I stole you, I thought I’d have it all. I thought it was owed to me, that you were something I could take and possess.”
It wasn’t possession if I gave it willingly. I said nothing, letting him speak.
“I knew my father was evil, but I believed I’d take the same path and somehow become a better man. You saved me from myself. You became something so irreplaceable that I wake at night in awe of just having you near again.” He hesitated, as though he’d reach for me. I hated that I pulled away. “You amaze me. I never knew a person could be so resilient.”
“I shouldn’t have to be resilient.”
“But you are.”
“Nick, it took days after the attack before I looked myself in the mirror. Three weeks before I let something other than scalding water in the shower touch me. Six weeks before I even realized I was pregnant. And then it took another two before I faced you.”
“That doesn’t make you weak. You can’t expect to heal from that so quickly.”
“I have to,” I said. “I don’t have a choice. Not with Darius, not with the companies, not with Bumper. I need that confidence.”
“You have it.”
“I don’t.” I flushed. “I don’t trust what I feel.”
“What do you feel?”
I whispered it. “Desire.”
It was the wrong emotion to admit to a Bennett, but Nicholas understood that forbidden, oppressive feeling more than any.
“That’s natural, Sarah.”
“Is it? Even after the things you’ve done to me. What happened with Darius?” My mouth dried. “I feel something for the first time since he hurt me, but it only reminds me how little control I’ve always had over my own body. You made every decision for me. You took me. You gave me to Max and Reed. And then Darius…had what he wanted.”
Nicholas had no counter. I didn’t expect one.
“Every moment I spent in your arms was wonderful.” I met his gaze. “But I can’t be taken anymore. I need to take that control back. I need to make the choice to be with you.”
“It’s yours.”
“No, it’s not. Not yet.”
And it wasn’t. I wanted him too much for all the wrong reasons. His touch. His comfort. We had been so complete, and now, it wasn’t me fracturing. It was us. Flaking and disintegrating within the truth and fear of how deeply I loved him.
“Tell me what I can do,” he said. “Let me help.”
“You can’t help, Nick. I panic if you even touch me.”
The thought struck me. I hadn’t touched him yet, but I knew what would happen when I fell in his arms. Nicholas Bennett would either catch me or toss me into the dark chasm I only just escaped.
I clawed my way to freedom once. I didn’t want to do it again.
But the only way to recover, to let myself heal was to take that leap and hope I caught myself before I tumbled down, down, down into the hell below.
It only took a small movement. Something simple. Something safe.
I whispered. “I should touch you.”
“What?”
“Just to prove to myself it isn’t something to fear. Just one touch.”
Nicholas held my gaze. “Just one touch?”
I seized a breath.
Then another.
And I reached for him.
He mimicked my motion. Our fingers brushed, palm-to-palm. My hand didn’t fit in his, and the strength from his rough size should have intimidated me.
It didn’t.
The surge of warmth wasn’t just a touch, it was a connection. The same that had always existed, crushed and lost, still beating an endless pulse of promise between us.
The relief burst with my shuddered breath. I touched him. Such an easy motion, but it was my choice, my decision to let him that close. I pressed my hand against his and didn’t brace for a fight or struggle. I prepared to be overwhelmed by his passion, tossed onto the bed with desires I hardly understood. But he let me feel us together. A promise kept.
“Just a touch.” His words soothed, melting wax that warmed but didn’t burn.
So much more. The gold in his eyes stilled me. The familiarity of Darius’s features slowly faded, revealing a man hardened by grief and strengthened by the same touch, the same words, the same feelings that protected me from the memory.
My confidence surged, and I wove my fingers between his. He
moved only when I moved, acted only when I initiated.
My breathing shuddered. Nicholas’s touch usually stirred me too quickly, too fiercely. I couldn’t understand why I so easily surrendered to a man I should have hated and fought with my remaining strength.
But Nicholas gave me strength. He warmed, soothed, and protected, even when he couldn’t save me from all danger. I survived for him.
I touched him.
He touched me.
Our heartbeats pulsed in time, and the heat wrapped me in a layer of comfort that flared more than the feelings I denied.
I came alive. The twisting in my core was no longer a confused and dreadful reaction. I let myself desire.
And I wanted more.
“Just a touch,” I said.
Nicholas nodded. “Whatever you need, Sarah.”
“It’s just a touch.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“For now it does. I can’t separate what I want from what’s right.” I somehow leaned too close, twisting my other hand with his. I braved twice the heat, twice the brush of our skin. “I can’t protect myself if I’m not whole.”
“Tell me where the pieces are, and I’ll fit them together.”
The pieces scattered, but I could collect them all if I regained my confidence. Explored the part of me enthralled by such a simple touch. It empowered me to set my own limits. And Nicholas was willing to let me guide myself through my own recovery.
I couldn’t surrender again to my obsession with him, but I needed one more step.
“Just a kiss.” I hardly recognized the word.
“A kiss.”
I swallowed. I squeezed his hands to hide my trembling.
“Just one kiss.”
I meant it to prove my strength, that I would not fear the overwhelming presence of a man who took and gave, forced and loved.
Nicholas set his jaw. “One kiss.”
I seized and breath as my eyes fluttered closed. I brushed my lips against his, quickly. Only a brief bump.
I shouldn’t have feared it.
The familiarity, the loving nibble, the comfort enthralled me. My delight teased in a freed shudder. His lips guided, but he demanded nothing. The thrill of his gentleness summoned a quiet mew from me.
If he heard it, he didn’t respond, but his hands inadvertently tightened their hold.
