I’m ready. I’ve never been more ready to have my own family. I want my real life to start.
Zara gets a cuddle with the baby. She claims she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but I think she’s a natural. I love the flush that colours her cheeks when she bends down to kiss his downy head.
Clarissa goes to bed first and James takes Annie and the baby upstairs shortly after. My parents stay up and chat for a while, but they’ve never been night owls. Soon it’s just me and Zara, curled up together on the sofa. I lean across to the record player and put on some old-fashioned jazz.
“They look happy, don’t you think?” says Zara. I catch the wistful hint in her voice and it spurs me onwards.
“I know. I was thinking the same thing.” Frank Sinatra’s crooning on the record, soft and low. She gives me a playful grin and pushes me gently.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”
“I was going to ask you to marry me.” Zara’s mouth drops open. I grin. “But we can dance as well, if you’d like.”
“Are you serious?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring box. Zara lets out a little gasp. Her hands fly to her cheeks.
“I was planning to do this differently,” I explain. She’s staring at me as if I’m completely crazy, and my heart starts hammering nervously. So I talk, to cover up the silence. “Make a grand gesture, you know? But then I thought – I don’t need some grand plan. I want to marry you now. I want you to be my wife, today. I love you, Zara, and I’ve always loved you. There’s never been anyone else for me and there never will. So…marry me. Be my bride. I swear to you I’ll do everything I can to make you happy for the rest of my life.”
She doesn’t say a word. Shit. I’ve never felt worse in my life.
“Zara, say something,” I beg.
“Oh my god! Yes! Yes! Of course I will! Did you think I’d say no? Are you completely mad?” She flings her arms around my neck and covers me in kisses. “Do you really mean it? Me? You want to get married to me?”
I can’t help laughing. “Well, after Scarlett Johansson said no, I thought – who’s the next best option?”
“Oh, very funny! Let me see the ring!”
I open the box and Zara instantly lets out a squeal of delight. “Chance, it can’t be!”
“Your Grandma gave it to me,” I say, sliding it onto her finger. “Do you like it?”
She stares down at her family heirloom ring as if she can’t believe the sight of it sparkling on her finger. “It’s perfect!” She turns her hand this way and that so that we can both get a good look. I have to admit, she’s right. It’s perfect. She’s perfect.
Seeing that ring on her finger is too much for me to resist. I sweep her up in my arms and carry her off towards the staircase. Zara gives a whoop of delight.
“Quietly,” I warn her. She grabs my collar and tugs my face towards her for a long, passionate kiss that leaves my knees trembling and my dick as hard as a rock. That’s what she thinks of quiet. Thank god our room is at the opposite end of the enormous house I bought my parents.
As I kick the bedroom door closed behind me and toss my fiancée onto the bed, there’s one thought filling my mind above all others.
I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted. My life’s back on track. All those years without her – they’re less than nothing now. A memory that fades with every passing second.
My last piece has fallen into place. My King moves to her Queen. I’m exactly where I want to be.
I do my best to stand perfectly still as Sally the dressmaker takes out the last of the pins. When she’s done, I realise that I’ve been squeezing my eyes closed the whole time. I hardly dare open them.
There’s silence in the room around me.
“What do you think?” I ask.
The silence is broken by the sound of loud sobbing. My eyes fly open. “Mum, don’t –”
But it’s Mariam. Mariam! Grandma Christine pats her on the back and hands her a tissue as she sniffles back great gusts of tears.
“There, there,” she tells her soothingly. “Your time will come soon enough.”
“I don’t even want to get married!” Mariam bawls. “But Zara, you look so – so –”
And she’s off again. Sobbing into her hands like a baby. I turn to my Mum, moving a little stiffly in all the unaccustomed finery of my wedding dress. ‘Mum, what do you think? Tell me honestly.’
“You are beautiful,” says Mum. She’s glowing with pride. Wow. I’ve never really felt beautiful before. Well, Chance tells me I’m beautiful all the time, but – that’s different. He’s in love with me. And he’d find me sexy if I was wearing a brown paper bag.
I look in the mirror at the shining white dress which trails out behind me in a waterfall of pearls and lace. It’s a top end, designer, handmade dress. This is the final fitting. I was worried it wouldn’t be perfect and that there wouldn’t be time to fix it before the wedding, but…
This is breathtaking. I’m breathtaking wearing it. I try to imagine Chance’s face, full of pride and love, when he sees me walking down the aisle towards him. My imagination fails. I just know that it’s all going to be impossibly beautiful.
Every day with Chance is like that. Impossibly, wonderfully beautiful.
“I don’t think we need to make any more adjustments,” says Sally, running her eyes over me critically. “This is the ideal fit. You look wonderful.”
“Thank you,” I say, twirling this way and that. I really am a princess now. I wonder if I have to take it off? The wedding’s tomorrow, after all. I could keep it on till then…
There’s a knock at the door. “Ladies! Can I come in?”
“No!” screams Mariam, running to bar Chance’s way. “Don’t open it! Don’t!”
I hear my father’s laughter outside. “Women and their wedding traditions. Hold on.” There’s a brief pause. “Alright, it’s safe now. You can let him in.”
Mariam cautiously opens the door, then lets Chance in with a laugh. He’s got my father’s tie wrapped around his eyes as a blindfold. Mariam takes his hand and leads him to a chair.
“Please tell me you’ve all got clothes on,” says Chance nervously. Peggy gives him a sharp rap on the knuckles.
“Chance! Honestly!”
“Oh – hi, Mum!”
Sally gives me a shrewd look. She’s clearly an expert in the endless bustle and confusion of wedding preparation. “I bet you two haven’t had a moment alone together for days, hmm?”
“No chance.” Since my family arrived from Malaysia and Chance’s international business guests started pouring into Mayhew, life has been an endless whirlwhind of drinks parties and airport pickups and social madness. I’ll almost be glad when this whole wedding is over.
“Alright! Everybody out!” says Sally. “I need to see how the dress looks next to the groom. Out! Out!”
Her request doesn’t make much sense, but her voice is so commanding that nobody questions it. My Mum, my Grandma, and my weeping sister all shuffle out, complaining amiably, and go off to look for more champagne. Peggy hesitates in the doorway. She looks from Chance to me in my dress and a shadow of regret passes over her eyes.
“I wonder sometimes what things might have been like,” she says. “All those years ago, when I answered that phonecall… what if I had listened to you more carefully? Done something differently? You might have been married a long time ago, if it wasn’t for me.”
“Mum, don’t say that,” says Chance. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t any of our faults.”
“The important thing is that it’s happening now,” I say, embracing Peggy warmly. “That’s all that matters.”
“I’m so glad you’re finally going to be part of our family,” she says, kissing me on the cheek.
“Out!” Sally snaps. Not a trace of sympathy for anyone’s emotional moments. As soon as Peggy’s gone, Sally nips out too, closing the door behind her.
I sit down in
Chance’s lap and kiss him. I quite like him in the blindfold. It’s giving me all kinds of ideas.
“Can I look now?” he asks eagerly.
“Absolutely not! You have to wait till tomorrow. It might be bad luck otherwise.”
“I don’t need luck,’ he laughs. ‘I’ve got it all planned out.”
“Do I get to hear these plans?”
“You feature in them heavily.” He kisses me deeply, running his hands up to try the fastenings on the back of my dress. “We’ll start with the baby I’m going to put in your belly tomorrow night and take it from there.”
Something else that seems too unreally perfect to picture. Me, growing round and pregnant, carrying Chance’s child inside me. That’s the dream I know is closest to his heart right now. I’ve never wanted to give anyone something as much as I want to give him this.
Chance tells me it will happen, and I believe him. First the wedding, then our child. Our whole life, planned out perfectly. I’m happy to let him guide me wherever he wants to go.
I sit in his lap and kiss him in my wedding dress. Happy to forget for a few stolen moments that we have guests, obligations, a world of wedding duties to fulfil as soon as we step out of the door.
I’ve got Chance, and he’s got me. Our whole world is right here.
That’s what he’s promised me. It’s a promise I know we can keep. For the rest of our lives.
You are invited to Chance and Zara’s wedding!
Click here to sign up to my mailing list and read all about their special day in the FREE extended epilogue to Taking His Own, as well as the first news of all my upcoming releases.
Get in touch and let me know what you thought of the book! I love chatting to my readers at www.facebook.com/jessicawildbloodwrites.
Alternatively, drop me a line at [email protected] or stop by my website, www.jessicawildblood.wordpress.com.
Now, keep reading to get your preview of The CEO’s Secret…
Prologue - Clarissa
I know this man. I see him every day. Yet somehow, when I look into his face, the mystery there makes me feel like I’m looking at a stranger.
His first request is always the same.
“Take off your dress,” he demands. His eyes are cold and hard, like two chips of crystal. I have no choice but to obey. Under his gaze, I strip until I am standing before him completely naked. Moonlight traces the round curves of my body. Those cold eyes lick me up and down.
“On your knees,” he commands.
I am his to do with as he pleases. I am his toy.
He removes his tie and uses it to fasten my wrists to the bedpost above my head. I shiver, though I am not cold. My whole body is tensed like a spring. I am aching and burning, deep in my core, for the part which comes next.
He is tall and strong. When he stands in front of me, bringing the thick bulge of his dick before my eyes, I am unable to move. I strain forwards to run my red lips over it. He lays a hand on my shoulder.
“So eager,” he comments. I hear the breathy pleasure in his voice. My pussy begins to throb in time to his words. “Not yet, Clarissa. I have another task for you first. There is something you must endure for me.”
Excited and afraid, I look up into his eyes. But they are no longer the cold and clear orbs that sent thrills running up my spine a moment before. Everything about my mysterious man is fading. I can no longer picture his face. The details of our time together are slipping from me.
That’s how it always is, with these dreams I’ve been having. I wake every morning panting, aching with need, but the specifics which intrigued me always vanish as the morning goes on. I’m alone, and I can hardly remember what I dreamed about last night. Or who.
Only that it left me breathless and shaking.
Chapter One - Clarissa
The eyes I’m staring into now are bright orange and lidless, with vertical slits for pupils. They belong to the only male in my life worth mentioning – Harry. And he’s a tree frog. I sigh, shaking the daydream out of my mind, and grab the water spritzer from the sideboard to give his aquarium a little spray down. He’s not the only one who needs cooling off this morning.
It’s eight fifteen. Ten minutes before I have to leave for work if I want to get there bang on time, allowing for traffic. I blow Harry a goodbye kiss and gulp down the last of my coffee. A quick check tells me I’ve got everything I need: keys, purse, lunchbox, extras – it’s my turn to bring in snacks today, and I spent way too long last night making sure the cupcakes were perfect. I nip into the bathroom to check my hair in the mirror, and debate adding on an extra slick of eyeliner. How much is too much? I need to look professional today. It’s an important day at work. The CEO of the company is transferring into my office. Rumour has it he’s a very demanding man to work for. I allow myself a small grin. If my dreams are anything to go by, I doubt I’ll have a problem with that. I’ve not been at Kelsey Technologies long, and I’m desperate to make sure everything is perfect.
But I know, deep down, I’m not the one who’s the problem.
“Frank!” I yell, again, the second or third time that morning. I glance over at the plate of fried eggs that are cooling on the kitchen table. Men need protein in the mornings, right? I’ll have to put them into a sandwich for him. As I rush to grab bread out of the cupboard, I remind myself of my Dad’s old mantra: More haste, less speed. Crap. That reminds me – there’s a missed call from Dad on my phone. I would have called him back already if I wasn’t so nervous about meeting my new boss this morning. Do other people’s parents call them up at six am, or am I the only one so lucky?
I’d dial him hands-free in the car on the way to work, but the thought of getting an earful from Dad at the same time as dealing with Frank’s morning misery is more than I can handle right now. That’s another thing I wonder if anyone else in the world is crazy enough to take on – the stress of giving your lazy roommate a ride to work every morning.
I mean, we work in the same building. We need to arrive at the same time. Technically, it should be no problem.
In reality, with Frank, everything is a problem. And here I am, Clarissa Hart, his good old friend, who somehow managed to owe him the world’s biggest favour. Every morning I fry him up a plateful of eggs and wonder how the hell I got myself into this mess in the first place.
“Frank!” It’s twenty-five past eight and we need to be in the car, like, thirty seconds ago. I’m running down the hallway, sandwich in hand, praying that when I fling open the door I’ll see my good-for-nothing housemate suited up and shaved and ready to go.
Frank’s got his trousers on and one arm stuffed into his shirt. He hasn’t washed his face – there’s a smear of ketchup by his mouth from last night’s dinner. He turns to me with a big teddy-bear smile that once would have been enough to soften my heart. “Plumpkin! You brought me breakfast in bed!”
Bed is what he calls it. Frank’s been crashing on my living room sofa ever since he got kicked out of his own apartment six weeks ago. I owe him, you see. He’s been a technician at Kelsey Technologies almost since they started up, and he put in a good word with the founder to wrangle me into my current job. I’d spent a whole year temping after I graduated. I was desperate. My dreams of landing a position in an accounting firm had been ground into dust – I would have taken a job as a sewage worker, and gladly. Frank helped me out of that hole. I owe him – even though it only took me a couple of days to realise why his previous housemates got sick of him in the first place.
Right now, I’m so upset I can’t even speak. He knows how important today is – we work at the same damn company!
He’s seen how anxious I get every morning as we screech into work in my car, two or three or occasionally as many as ten minutes past nine. He woke up this morning when my alarm went off, half past seven. He listened last night when I told him I’d had enough of risking my career for his morning laziness. He rubbed my shoulders and told me not to worry.
I gues
s I have to accept at this point it isn’t laziness any more. This is just...Frank, and Frank doesn’t care if I’m late to work on the day the CEO of the company comes back from New York.
“We should have left already,” I tell him, and leave the sandwich on the bed, and go before I start another screaming row.
I sit on the edge of the bathtub while I listen to Frank shuffle around downstairs, finally getting his act together. There are tears pooling in my eyes, but I grab a handful of tissues and manage to stem the flow before it wreaks too much havoc on my carefully applied make-up.
He wasn’t always like this. He used to be sweet and thoughtful. Or perhaps I didn’t used to spend so much time with his flaws, so I didn’t mind them so much.
No, I tell myself. Pull yourself together. This is Frank. Your good friend, and not someone you can just ditch over another bitching out from HR. You have to try thinking the best of him. Everyone has their own set of flaws, and god knows you’ve got your own.
I realise I’m smiling. This is exactly the pep talk I’d be getting if I’d called up my Dad this morning. What do you expect from the guy, Clarissa? His voice growls in my head. Mr Perfect? Prince Charming? That’s the kind of crazy thinking that dragged your mother off to Australia. And aren’t we all much better off without her?
When Frank knocks on the door, he’s at least got the grace to look sheepish. It’s quarter to nine and we don’t have a hope in hell of getting to work on time, but at least I haven’t burst into tears and sobbed mascara all over myself before meeting my new boss.
“I’m sorry I was cross,” I say, and give him a hug. Frank looks relieved.
“That’s ok. I forgive you, Plumpkin.”
Taking His Own Page 18