by Lia Lee
“Michelle said—”
“She was covering for me. She knew I didn’t want you to know. It’s why I...” Anne balled her hands into fists. “That’s why I broke things off when you went to prison. It’s why I’ve had such a hard time accepting what you’re offering me. I should’ve told you. I just didn’t want Evie to have to wonder where her father was, if you were arrested again, or worse…”
“I wonder if you expect me to disagree. I am who I am, Anne, but having had not one but two terrible fathers in my life, I wouldn’t wish that on her for the world,” William admitted. He reached for her, and she drew nearer. “If you don’t want me—”
“I want you!” Anne cried. “I can’t live knowing I took her away from you and kept our family apart because of all these stupid fears I’ve never dealt with.”
William rested his head back. He looked so tired and overwhelmed. Anne rubbed her hand up and down his arm.
“Then…” William took a deep breath and pushed himself up again. “Then, marry me, Anne.”
“Marry you!”
“That’s what folks do, isn’t it? Usually before the children, but I wouldn’t go forcing normality on us now.” William smiled slowly and a little uncertainly. “Marry me. We’ll move someplace wonderful, and I can try to be a good father to Evie. You can keep your job, or not. Whatever you want. And we’ll all still be together.”
Anne wiped her eyes and stood to give William a kiss. “Yes.” She kissed him again and again. “Yes! Let’s try it. If anyone could figure out a way to make this work, it would be you, you criminal mastermind!”
“Masterminds don’t find themselves pawns in police investigations or lying flat in a hospital bed.”
“Oh, the things the infamous William Spencer does, all because he loves me,” Anne teased.
Epilogue
William and Anne had their wedding in Vegas, of course, in a lovely, mid-sized ballroom with lots of dancing and delicious cuisine that had Evie and Michelle both over the moon. Anything with jalapenos would make Michelle happy, but the mac and cheese cupcakes were probably Evie’s new favorite food.
By the time this wedding happened, though, they had all relocated to southern California (save Michelle as she finished her degree). Two years had passed, and Anne was still a detective, first class for the time being, while William’s business had mutated rather drastically. It was all above board… for the most part.
As it turned out, taking bullets for a cop, even your girlfriend, tended to result in two things: cops at your wedding, and former contacts who wouldn’t answer your calls. William didn’t mind the shift though. He was more than willing to put the family business behind him and continue carving his own path.
That it kept him mostly on the right side of the law was a bonus, in Anne’s eyes.
After the wedding, they’d all taken off to Nice, France to enjoy the beach and the sun. Michelle didn’t even mind that she was a de facto babysitter on this trip, as it was an excuse to get away from her senioritis and flirt with cute French people on the beach when she didn’t have Evie.
“I am unworthy of this vision of loveliness before me,” Will declared, gesturing to Anne in her bikini, as well as Michelle and Evie, who were both wearing sundresses. Evie’s was fluffy and rainbow colored, and William had picked it out himself.
“You definitely are.” Anne raised onto her toes to give him a kiss. “But this trip might tip things in your favor.”
“I’m glad you lot like it.” William picked up Evie.
“Bonjour!” she chimed. She’d memorized their entire phrasebook and was saying each phrase seemingly at random.
William shook her little hand, and said, “Bonjour, mademoiselle!”
“Let’s go.” Anne fought a smile.
But it wasn’t a fight she could win. The last two years, well, they had started with a bit of a struggle, with William recovering from his wounds, and then gradually bringing him into Evie’s life more and more. It was harder on Anne and William than Evie, to be fair. The two of them had so much that they had to work out. In the end, though, when they’d committed to being a real couple, it had been easy. They knew practically everything about one another anyway, so the momentum of the events surrounding the arrest of William’s sister and father had given them a good shove in the right direction.
Anne couldn’t pretend she really understood why William wrote to his sister in prison. He’d explained that with parents as awful as theirs, he could only blame her so much for trying to kill him, especially when the first attempt had been at Anthony’s request. In a way, Anne had to see the effort as a positive step. Anything Anne and William could do to resolve the pain of the past would make it easier for them to handle their lives in the here and now. And at least he talked to her about his family now, when he’d once been so closed off about his past.
William, holding Evie on his hip, took Anne’s hand, and together, with Michelle trailing, they walked out onto the beach. Whatever choice they made from this point forward, they made them together. Not only that, Anne thought as she looked up at her willful, impetuous, crafty, and handsome husband, but she hadn’t been forced to choose between her great love, her happiness, and her family at all. They were all one and the same, and she would step forward into her future with confidence, security, and whatever her heart chose.
THE END
CLICK HERE
to subscribe to my newsletter & get EXCLUSIVE updates on all offers, secret previews, and new releases!
ANOTHER STORY YOU MAY ENJOY
Royal’s Arranged Love
By: Sophia Lynn, Ana Adams
CLICK HERE
to subscribe to my newsletter & get EXCLUSIVE updates on all offers, secret previews, and new releases!
Royal’s Arranged Love
By: Sophia Lynn, Ana Adams
All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2015-2016 Sophia Lynn
CLICK HERE
to subscribe to my newsletter & get EXCLUSIVE updates on all offers, secret previews, and new releases!
Chapter One
Clara surveyed the ballroom through a slit in the doorway, struggling to make sense of who was who from inside the server’s pantry. She unbuttoned her pressed white top, eagle-eying the well-dressed guests gliding through the event.
“Do you see Headmaster Ging?” Her best friend Katy sounded just as anxious as Clara had felt the entire day.
She’d been politely and silently serving them hors d’oeuvre for an hour now, and through the slit in the door, everyone looked like a confusing blur. Ging was her ticket into the biology teacher position at the private school that she’d been eying for months. But she was also on the lookout for the tall, sexy guest who’d just breezed into the event like a gust of summer air—hot, tantalizing, and unexpected.
“I can’t tell.” She slid her top off, dropping it onto the floor as she concentrated. Unbuttoning her pressed black serving pants, she shimmied out of them. “He got a good look at me in the face, so I can’t sneak out this way anymore.”
“This pantry connects to the kitchen, and you can slip back into the ballroom through the side entrance.” Katy’s voice came out as a forceful whisper. This was about the same as a black-ops mission, as far as Clara was concerned.
“Good idea.” She stepped away from the door to focus on dressing. The formal black gown on loan from a friend was folded neatly in the duffel bag she’d deposited in the pantry hours earlier. “Thank god you’re the boss, or else I’d really be worried about how this stunt affects my job performance.”
“Well, with any luck, this won’t even be your job anymore,” Katy said. “So go out there and wow the pants off Ging so he hires you on the spot!”
“I love you for setting this up.” Clara slipped the gown over her head, tugging it into place over her hips. “If I were a better friend, I’d take you out to dinner or something.”
Katy snorted. “You can’t afford that and we both know it.”
“Thanks for remi
nding me.” Clara smiled wryly as she pushed pearl earrings into place, another loaned item from Katy. “I’ll make it up to you someday, I swear. Once I’m employed and wiping my ass with twenties.”
“Biology teachers make that kind of money?”
Clara sighed, slipping her feet into simple wedge heels. “No, they don’t. But it’s what I need with how many bills I have. Now, give me a half hour and I’ll be back on the clock, shoveling drinks down these people’s gullets. Deal?”
“Deal and done.” Katy gave her friend a final once-over, sealing it with a thumbs-up. “Now go, Cinderella!”
Clara scoffed. “The modern Cinderella, maybe. Instead of Prince Charming, I’m looking for the headmaster. And once the clock strikes midnight, I turn back into the lowly middle-class servant that I am.”
Katy grinned, pushing her toward the door. “Go.”
Clara glided out of the pantry and through the kitchen, snagging looks from a few uniformed cooks as she beelined for the far hallway. In the cool, quiet air of the hall, the guests’ voices in the ballroom were a low hum. She smoothed the front of her dress, drawing a shaky breath of confidence, touching the simple chignon bun she’d pulled her brown hair into.
On the job hunt for close to a year now, Clara was sick and tired of always coming up short. She’d been struggling to land a job in her profession since graduation; but at this rate, any job that paid the bills would do. Loans, credit card debt, and her mother’s emergency medical bills were like a knife at her throat. The most she could do was scrounge for side jobs in her free time just to tread water.
But even treading water wasn’t cutting it. Her rent was months behind, and if she didn’t snag this job tonight, she didn’t know what she’d do.
She breezed into the ballroom, looking confident. She scanned the room, grabbing a champagne flute from a tray nearby. Would anyone notice the transformation of their former server? Most didn’t take the time to even look her in the eyes.
As she sipped at her champagne, the low murmur of voices and laughter soothed her. For a moment, she was able to forget about her own sordid reality. Maybe this was as close to a vacation as she’d get.
“Pardon me.”
Clara stiffened, turning to acknowledge the speaker. A mysterious puff of summer air was at her side, all six-foot something of his glory. Dark eyes trained on her as a smile tugged at his lips.
“Hello?”
“Hello.” He offered his hand, a grin blossoming on his face. “Pleasure to meet you. It looks like we had the same idea.”
She knitted a brow, struggling to focus as his warm, rough hand took hers in a shake. “And what’s that?”
“Staying near the champagne.” He nodded toward the platter of flutes being replaced at her side. “Not a bad game plan for events like these.”
She laughed curtly, gaze traveling to the champagne flutes as a way to test the reality of this moment. When she turned to reply, he was still there. Not a hallucination after all. “You come to a lot of these?”
“Too many. I’m Adrien.” His name came out in the full flourish of perfected French. “What’s your name?”
“Clara.” She bit back a grin, questions sparking about this man. Most of all, where was he from, and why was he so damn sexy? “You say your name like you passed all your French classes in school.”
“I should hope so. I’m from Luxembourg, after all.”
The information thrummed through her. Wasn’t that a tiny country in Central Europe somewhere? Heat prickled the back of her neck. It had been a long time since she’d reviewed European geography, and even longer since she’d been around a good-looking man. Adrien was the ultimate test. Something in his energy made her want to tear her dress off and drag him to the nearest utility closet.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone from that country.”
“We tend to be forgotten between Belgium and Germany.” Adrien sipped at his champagne. “Nobody cares about our beer and waffles when those guys are our neighbors.”
She giggled. “If your waffle can compete on the Belgian level, I think it’s worth a try.”
“You want to try?” He sized her up, his eyes intense. “Don’t kid around. I win waffle-making competitions.”
“Now this I have to see. Do you have a special recipe, or is the art form more in the shaping of the waffle?”
He grinned, sipping at his drink. “A little of both. But the ratios I can never share. A man doesn’t give up his waffle secrets.”
Laughter burst out of her. Those words coming from that man…a combination she’d never dreamt possible. “That is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”
He nodded again, a grin spreading across his face. “But enough about that. So are you here for the charity chatter, or some secret political aspirations?”
His question made her freeze, reminding her of the big event beyond the narrow scope of her mission. Admitting the truth—that she was stalking the headmaster of her dream job—sounded suddenly ridiculous. “A little of both.”
Adrien nodded tersely. “Well played. The best way to trudge through.”
Clara snuck a glance at the refined man at her side. He was all cut lines and sternness, a profile that inspired adoration as much as fear. “So what do you do?”
“Technology.” He took a sip at the flute, jaw flexing. “And you?”
“That’s certainly vague,” she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Technology like the telephone, or technology like futuristic stuff used to spy on other countries?”
“I think that would be intel,” he said, a dimple flashing. “And neither, actually. I’m less of an inventor and more of a manager.”
He didn’t look like any sort of middle-management guy, that was for sure. Curiosity licked through her veins. But time was ticking away. She had thirty minutes to schmooze Ging and land a job, not investigate a peripheral guest. Even though he looked like secret royalty.
Focus.
“You haven’t told me what you do.” He lifted his brows.
“Ah. Sorry.” She laughed, sipping at her champagne to buy time. The truth would make him cough and slink away. In this dress, with this flute in her hand, boldness coursed through her. “I work in…television.”
“Goodness.” His eyes widened. “A celebrity.”
Her rational mind scrambled to figure out what the hell she was doing. Lying was not her strong suit—but then again, neither was courting mysterious sex gods in the middle of swanky soirées.
“Hardly,” she said, batting her hand at him. Her heart thrummed behind her rib cage, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the stress of wooing Ging, or the dizziness of beholding Adrien. It was probably both. “I’m not even sure why they invited me.”
“Then why did you come?” His smile glittered.
Because catering is my only source of income right now. She swallowed a knot in her throat. “I thought I might run into you.”
Adrien’s eyes flashed. He seemed both taken aback and deeply intrigued. She couldn’t even say where that smooth comment had some from; it had just sidled out, unbidden, like a snake emerging from grass.
“So you’ve heard of me?”
She laughed, intending to play it off, then realized he might actually be someone she could have heard about. “Hasn’t the entire free world heard about your waffle skills? I’m just kidding. I was trying to be coy. Which, obviously, I am not.”
He relaxed, a smile overtaking his face. “I find you quite coy. In an unassuming way. Which is perhaps even more coy than you’d intended.”
Her cheeks lit up. Being near this man was like inhaling drugs. “Then my game plan is successful.” What are you saying?
“What a man would give to divine the game plans of women like you.” His eyes sparkled as he brought his flute up to his lips.
“Trust me. They’re quite simple. Maybe even more simple than men’s game plans.”
“There couldn’t be anything simpler than that.”
/>
They shared a private smile; electricity crackled between them. For a split second, Clara felt like they’d been together for years. Like instead of two strangers, they were husband and wife finding each other after a long day apart.
Across the room, Ging moved. Clara snapped to attention. “It was lovely talking to you. You must excuse me—”
“Leaving already?” His eyes flashed with something unknown. “Give me your card, at least. So I can follow you on TV. Send fan mail. Things like that.”
She tried to laugh daintily, but it came out more like a hiccup. “I didn’t even bring them with me.”
“Clara.” He held out his hand, his gaze darting to the deep neckline of her dress. Desire swarmed her, made her thighs clench. “Such a pretty name, for such a pretty lady.”
She placed her hand in his, awestruck as he brought the back of her hand to his lips. His breath came out hot against her skin. His mere touch begged her to stay. She brought her hand back, jittery from the unexpected contact.
“It was very nice to meet you, Adrien.” Her attempt at his name sounded a bit strangled. “Maybe we’ll run into each other some other time.”
“I can only hope.” His jaw flexed and his look left a doorway open. The exact type of doorway she’d like to run through if her entire career weren’t dependent on the man across the room. She tossed him a smile and slunk away. Each step away from him felt like a mistake, but the bigger mistake would be letting Ging slip away before she completed her mission.
Breezing up to Ging, she shoved the conversation with Adrien from her mind, no matter how much she wanted to replay it in her head. She tossed a cheeky, confident smile. The tall, lanky man appraised her quietly, nodding to her. She offered her hand.
“Professor Ging, my name is Clara Gables. You don’t know me, but I know you. Can I steal a few moments of your time?”
Over the rim of his glasses, he watched her curiously. They shook hands. “You have my attention.”
“I’ve been following your career for quite some time.” Her voice was strong, but her heart raced. Don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up. “Your work at the Manchester School for Advancement is commendable. I must admit, the ways in which you’ve revamped and revitalized the science programs are simply amazing.”
