by Lexi Whitlow
I press on. My first millions come to me at twenty-two, the first billion just slightly later.
There are still women. Houses, boats. Beautiful cities, travel, and planes. Leagues of cars.
But absolutely nothing compares to Eliza Carver Lane.
I work hard to keep her from my mind, but she’s always there, like a distant island on the horizon. And the baby too — I think less about him. Or her.
But sometimes there are dreams.
I drink them away, and in the next decade, I almost entirely forget. Almost.
Nine Years Later
The coasts of North and South Carolina are almost as full of women as NC State was, but not quite. I’m older now, so I’m a little bit more discerning.
Okay, not really that discerning. But tonight I’m meeting one of the loveliest women in town — an old friend. Perhaps my only friend. It’s not easy to have casual friendships when you’ve got a few billion dollars spread over several accounts in Switzerland and the Caribbean.
But this one — she’s a gem. She’s the one who could lead me into the actual city, away from the islands and inlets and bays that I call home these days.
Margaux’s is supposed to be one of Charleston’s better grills on this side of town. I don’t eat out a lot anymore, and I haven’t spent any time in Charleston since early high school. Danica recommended it because it’s close to the marina and not too far from the medical practice she’s working with since getting out of school. She’s a doctor. An OBGYN. I don’t know how she did it. That much time spent in school would have killed me. I gave up during Christmas break, middle of my junior year. Nothing there for me and I had better things to do with my time.
Now, I have nothing better to do with my time than schedule late lunches with old friends, buy lovely old houses to save them from the wrecking ball, pour shit loads of money into their restoration, and hang out on my boat.
I look at my watch. Danica is not late — I’m just an impatient asshole.
She and I have kept up sporadically over the years. She was about my only real friend in college, and she was my conduit to maintaining some kind of contact with Eliza. When I think back on how that all happened, the randomness of it, and how it worked out – it just makes my head hurt. The second I saw Eliza, I never gave another girl at school a second look. I moved from coding hook-up apps — I did sell Catcha to Facebook for two million — and moved on to much more serious work. And when I finally accepted that Alex Lane was never going to let me get five minutes alone with Eliza, I gave up on school and went rogue.
The rest, as they say, is history. I’m a success. So everyone tells me.
“Hey handsome,” a sultry voice says.
Danica slips up beside me at the bar, smiling. She leans in for a hug and I give her my best. She’s still as stunning as ever, still with those long legs and flashing dark eyes.
“Dr. Heartly.” I grin at her and then catch the bartender’s attention for drinks. “Where’s your white coat? You don’t look convincing enough.”
She cocks her head at me. “That’s very old school,” she says. “I wear what I want to work. The boy doctors are reporting to me these days. So I set my own damn dress code. Though I do have a very nice lab coat — I just don’t wear it out to eat.”
We make chit-chat for ten minutes. She wants to hear about why I’m in town. I tell her. She wants to hear about my boat, the Sweet Revenge, laying at anchor in the harbor not a half mile from where we’re seated. I tell her. She asks me if I have any new projects. I tell her I don’t, but I will, eventually.
Then she asks me if I’m seeing anyone.
Odd question. “No, Danica, I’m not. Not my wheelhouse. I don’t do… complicated. Life’s already complicated enough.”
This fact about me is fairly well documented in the press.
“Okay,” she says. “Fair enough.”
“So are you seeing anybody?” I ask her. Seems fair.
She shakes her head. “We’re not talking about me. This is the Macon Sands show.”
I have no idea what she’s going on about. There’s a long pause, and Danica bites her lip.
“Tell me,” I say. “What is going on — I don’t like to stay on dry land for this long at a time. I prefer my meals delivered to me on the deck of a ship.”
Danica rolls her eyes, and then she sighs.
“Eliza is in town,” she says. “To stay.”
What?
“And she left Alex.”
What?
“And I really can’t say more than that, but… Macon… she’s short on friends, on people she can count on, trust.”
What? My head is spinning.
“You know, her mom died, and her aunt too. Her sister lives in Columbia, has a couple kids. Not a lot of time to take care of a little sister.”
“She left Alex?” I repeat, uncertain that I heard correctly.
Danica nods. “Macon — before you get excited — she’s changed. Alex wasn’t the person she thought he was. He wasn’t even the person I thought he was. But she’s here and she needs us.”
I feel my entire world perspective tilt slightly to the left.
Gravity shifts.
Holy shit.
One-click it here today: tiny.cc/thebabypact
Other books by Lexi Whitlow:
Ash
Royal Beast
Bad Boy’s Fake Wedding
Long Shot
For a FREE copy of Depraved, click here!
BookHip.com/VAZGGZ
About the Author
Lexi Whitlow is a small-town girl from Virginia. She spent her early years growing up between Virginia and North Carolina, playing in the dark rich dirt of Eastern North Carolina at her granddaddy's farm. She's a mom of a seven-year-old boy and a one-year-old girl. Life is hectic, but it sure is sweet.
She holds a master's degree in English literature from the University of Virginia, and her mom is so proud she's "using her degree."
Lexi harbors a not-so-secret love for bad boys. She loves fighters, tough-as-nails cowboys, bikers, and criminals. Her husband is a scientist... but he has the heart of a bad boy for sure.
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