by Katie Ford
Little One, for you.
I hope this finds you
Wherever you are.
No, it couldn’t be. Dominic had often called me Little One during that sweet, brief interlude at Koh-i-Noor. I’d allowed myself to believe that I was someone special by his use of the endearment, convinced that I was more than a quick fuck, a convenient lay for the big man.
Could Dominic be sending me a message, however unlikely, through his new book? My fingers trembled, and I rushed home, the volume clutched in my hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dominic
Dammit! I was staring at the phone again, willing for her to call. I was a mental and physical mess. Everything I’d done in the past year had been completely fucked up, and I only had myself to blame.
There was simply no excuse for my lunatic behavior. After my younger brother told me he was going to propose to Trina, I’d swung into action, sure that the gold-digger would reveal her true colors when a richer man came along.
I’d accosted the redhead at the catering event, convinced that the luscious, curvy girl had to be the temptress Trina. And she’d been sweet and innocent, her body giving and plush as she spent one memorable, earth-shattering night in my arms, sweetly writhing with pleasure, utterly responsive and giving.
The redhead had been shocked the next morning when I’d accused her of seducing Caleb, explaining that she was actually Becca, Trina’s twin.
But I’d refused to believe it. Because … I wanted to keep her for myself. This has been the hardest admission for me. I was jealous that my twenty-one year old brother had found someone so sweet, so giving and delicious, whereas I was nearing my forties after a string of failed relationships. I wanted this girl … and so I kept her.
I don’t know what bizarre rationalizations ran through my head, but it must have been bad. I kidnapped Becca to my own private island, basically turning her into a sex slave. But it had become something more. I respected the woman, her sweet demeanor, her pleasure in nature and beauty, and her keen, discerning intelligence. She’d helped edit my latest book, and it was only right that I dedicated it to my “Little One.”
But I’d gone and fucked everything up again. Caleb had called from New York, ecstatically declaring that Trina had accepted his proposal. It was then that I knew for sure that Becca was in fact a twin. I’d already known in my heart of hearts that the girl I loved couldn’t be a ruthless gold-digger, but now the real Trina was making her move.
I’d contacted Trina and basically bribed her. If she didn’t marry Caleb, I’d buy her a garish diamond necklace, which was already waiting for her at Tiffany’s. Sure enough, the girl made a trip to the store that very same day, and broke off the engagement.
But I wanted to get the bitch away from Caleb, period, so I flew Trina to Koh-i-Noor, my island paradise. It was a fucking disaster. The blood had immediately drained from Becca’s face when she realized who was deplaning, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears at her sister’s callous comments. I’d overheard everything, though I pretended not to.
And I’d added fuel to the fire, spending my free time with Trina, basically ignoring Becca to cavort about the island with her sister. Nana’s eyes had followed me sadly whenever I returned, saying nothing but also everything at once.
“Becca, she in her room alone again,” she said.
“Oh Becca will be fine,” I’d said carelessly. “Trina’s just here for a while.”
But Nana just shook her head sadly, and sure enough, one day Becca was gone.
I’d gone into a furious rage, racing the ATV like a madman all over the island, scanning the seas for some sign of life.
But Nana had shook her head again and merely said, “She at da Big Island now.”
I knew immediately that Becca had hitched a ride with the delivery boat, and was likely long gone by now. My heart had dropped, my face hot with shame, when I realized the humiliation she must have endured. A man she’d freely given herself to, sweetly and with no reserve, was likely fucking her twin sister now right under her nose. Of course she’d left! I berated myself, sinking into a deep depression.
And Trina was a piece of work. She couldn’t understand why I was devastated over Becca’s departure when she was the more beautiful, glamorous twin.
“Becca’s just an editor, you can find one of those anywhere,” she’d scoffed after my second day of gloom. “Why, I could do her work myself,” she’d said.
“Hands off my manuscript,” I’d snarled. “You’ve barely got enough brains for half a person, much less the wit and intelligence of your sister.”
She’d been shocked, genuinely surprised that any man would pick Becca over herself. But she’d flounced off, not caring what happened so long as her material needs were met.
“You’re not even a man!” she’d screamed shrilly. “You were always too scared to fuck me, fucking asshole!” she cursed.
Because I’d never touched Trina, always rebuffing her physical advances. I don’t know, it just made me sick to share something so special, so sacred with another woman after I’d spent those magical nights with Little One. Everyone else seemed polluted or rotted, especially the garbage that was Trina.
I’d turned away resolutely, my face set in stone. There was nothing Trina could say that would rattle me, I just didn’t care about her. But Becca … oh god, what have I done?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Becca
I stared at the phone, so ordinary and yet threatening. I could easily call Dominic, just as a pretense to congratulate him about the book’s publication. But I knew I was playing with fire because emotions run deep … at least on my part. He was probably still sleeping with my sister, and a pang raced through my heart at the thought.
No, I decided. Not today. I won’t tell him about his son today.
Another year passed, Nate and I enjoying our simple lives, the baby growing fast, healthy and chubby with inquisitive, sparkling eyes. He was really a darling, and looked more like his father each day. His hair was dark brown, starting to wave just like his dad’s, and he had the same crystal clear blue eyes which would widen with mirth at his favorite cartoon characters.
I got dressed in a nice blouse and fitted jeans. Folks at the town had embraced me when they realized I was a single mother with a baby. They invited me to neighborhood picnics, fun, communal activities where everyone brought something to share, and soon I found myself enjoying life a bit more, making friends and even going out occasionally.
Today I was attending a reading at the local book store by an author of some renown. A local children’s chef had hit the big time with his cooking show, and was going to do a reading from his new autobiography, complete with complimentary cupcakes.
“Come on Nate, let’s go sweetie,” I said, strapping my boy into his stroller. Just like his dad, he was going to be at least six four or six five.
“Mama!” he gurgled, waving his favorite stuffed elephant.
“Thank you, sweetie,” I said, as he tried to give it to me. “Mama loves you.”
I wheeled him outside and strolled to the bookstore, enjoying the autumn day. The store wasn’t too crowded, but that was okay, as Nate’s stroller could be cumbersome to manage in a crowd. We’d just stand in the back, maybe nibble at a cupcake, and leave quietly once the reading was done.
I wheeled the carriage into the store, feeling a strange tingle, but shook it off as weird vibes. I was greeted by Greg, a local man who’d shown some interest in me. He was the book store’s manager, a kindly, balding middle-aged guy, with soft, gentle hands.
“Hey Becca,” he said. “Hi little guy,” he said to Nate, my son gurgling with recognition and shaking his rattle. “We’ve got a great crowd here today.”
But something was off. I’d expected a bunch of moms with their kids, but most of the audience was professionals, dressed nicely in tailored clothes, nice work outfits.
“Am I at the right event?” I asked. “It’s Karl
Creeson today, right? The children’s chef?”
“No, not today,” chuckled Greg. “It’s Dominic Patterson, multi-billionaire best-selling author. Green Light Books is lucky to get someone of his stature,” he confided, leaning close. “Seems that he’s been relentlessly touring, hell-bent on promoting this new book.”
The world seemed to close around me. Suddenly, I knew why I’d had that tingling feeling when I walked in. Dominic was here! And sure enough, I turned around to bump into his massive frame.
“Becca,” he rumbled, his hand grasping me tightly on my elbow. He was even more gorgeous than I remembered, his blue eyes just as penetrating, just as divine, although he was deathly pale at the moment, his eyes boring into mine.
“And who’s this?” he ground out.
“Oh Greg, meet Dominic,” I said, trying to hide my consternation. I was flustered, my face hot and my heart going at a million miles an hour, but I didn’t want Dom to know.
But before Greg could get a greeting in, Dominic’s hand tightened painfully on my elbow and he swung me around towards the stroller.
“No, Little One,” he growled threateningly. “I meant, who’s this?” he indicated, jerking his head at Nate, his brows ominously drawn.
My baby had fallen asleep, thankfully, so as not to be disturbed by the dangerous undercurrents passing through the air. His face was as angelic as a cherub in rest, his cheeks sweetly slack, his mouth a baby pout.
“Um …” I stammered. “This is Nate, my son,” I said slowly.
“Little One,” he ground out, by this time his hand a painful vise on my arm. “I’m only going to ask once. Is the baby mine?”
The question hung between us, lingering in the air, all else fading into black.
“Yes Dominic,” I said quietly, looking into his eyes. “Nate is your son too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Dominic
The world blurred around me and I literally thought that I’d faint, right there in the middle of the bookstore. The appearance of Becca had blown me out of the water. I could hardly believe my eyes, but there was no one else with that luscious figure, the masses of strawberry blonde hair. My Little One was right here, in this tiny New Hampshire town!
But I’d almost blacked out with anger when I saw that douchebag approach her. The guy was as dull as dishwater, but I could see possession in him, the way he looked her over, almost smacking his lips at her curves. My vision reddened with rage and I’d charged over, ready to … I don’t know, tear him apart limb by limb?
But that’s when I stopped short. Because I got the biggest surprise of my life. Becca had a stroller with her, with a little boy inside who looked … suspiciously like me. The infant’s features were soft with sleep, but I could see that he had dark hair, and the beginnings of the unmistakable Phillips chin. My breathing hitched and I literally thought I’d collapse.
But I managed to hold it together. Grabbing Becca’s arm, I’d harshly whispered in her ear, “Is the boy mine?”
I saw a faint shadow of fear flit through her eyes and mentally cursed myself for what I’d done to this girl. I promised myself to make it up to her no matter what it took, if she’d just give me a second chance.
She’d straightened proudly, throwing her head back and declared firmly, “Yes, Dominic, he’s yours.”
And that’s when I dragged her outside, to settle this once and for all.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Becca
“What do you think you’re doing?” I gasped as Dominic grabbed my arm with one hand, the stroller with the other, and began hauling us to the door.
The man didn’t reply, just an ominous, dark look in his eyes.
“Dominic,” I said, trying not to look like I was struggling against his grasp. “Stop! You’re due on stage in just a few moments! These people are here to see you.”
He ignored me, not caring about the commotion we were causing and harshly shoved the stroller through the doorframe, the rough bump causing Nate to wake and start squalling. I immediately bent to pick him up, cradling my boy against me, rubbing circles against his back.
“Shush,” I hummed. “Mommy loves you,” I murmured as the infant hiccupped and wept. Thank goodness we were outdoors now, among the trees, with just the occasional passerby.
“Little One,” Dominic ground out slowly. “When were you going to tell me about the child?”
“I … um …” I stammered. My life had been so complicated with Dominic that I decided to stick with the truth. “I don’t know,” I said simply. “You’re in a relationship with my twin sister, and I can’t imagine exposing my baby to that.”
“I’m not with Trina!” he lashed out, before ducking his head sorrowfully, shamefully. “Little One, I’m so sorry … I don’t know what’s wrong with me. After that first night together, I wanted you for myself, and so I made up all these crazy excuses to keep you by my side. I was jealous, jealous that you were going to marry my brother when all I wanted was for you to be mine …” his voice trailed.
“But why would you sleep with my sister, then?” I asked plaintively. “If you wanted a relationship with me, then why take up with Trina?”
“Trina’s a gold-digger, don’t get me wrong,” he growled. “And I wanted Caleb to see the truth. But I never slept with her, and in fact I kicked her out as soon as you left.”
I tried to calm myself, bouncing Nate up and down in my arms. Dominic had never slept with Trina?
“But Dominic,” I continued. “Why invent this elaborate ruse, with the kidnapping, bringing my sister to the island, all that stuff? It got so complicated, and I was so hurt by your actions. Why?”
Dominic looked pensive. “This is hard to believe, Little One, but I’ve been thinking about it non-stop for a year now. I think I did it … because I’m crazy in love with you,” he rushed out. “I was a man so in love that I was willing to kidnap the girl I wanted, hoping my island paradise would give us some space to figure things out.”
“And the whole thing with your sister … I realize now that I should have just let my brother get married and figure out the gold-digging shit on his own. If he needs to learn things the hard way, then so be it.”
But he swept me into his arms, Nate and I both.
“Can you forgive me, Becca?” he said, burying his face in the softness of my curls. “I know I’ve been a dick, but this past year without you has been pure misery,” he ground out. “I want a chance to start again with you … and Nate,” he added, glancing down at his boy. “We don’t have to get married right away, but would you consider it? Letting our boy get to know his dad?”
My heart pounded and happiness flooded my body, so strong, so potent that I almost fainted. I’d made a thousand mistakes in my past, but I knew this wasn’t another one.
“Yes Dominic,” I said softly. “It would be good for Nate to know his father.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Becca
Life changed, incrementally at first so I didn’t notice it, but by the end, we were light years from where we’d started. At first, Dominic rented an apartment in our little New Hampshire town, making the time to see Nate every day after he finished writing. He’d pick up the little boy, who’d gurgle with glee, and take him for walks, or to the park or library. I never saw a father and son bond so well.
Dominic didn’t really interact with me so much at first, although he certainly looked at me a lot. He’d just say things like, “Hey Little One, how’s it going?” when he picked up Nate, not even so much as trying to invite himself in for coffee or dinner.
But one day, when he came back, there were roses in the stroller, for me I suppose, and I’d breathed in their fresh scent, heady with perfume.
“Thank you Dominic, they’re beautiful,” I’d smiled. He’d smiled back, and seemed to loosen up afterwards, more confident in his approach.
The next time he came back from a walk with Nate, there was a hunk of cheese and some olive oil crackers, my fa
vorite. He didn’t say anything as he handed them to me, but the next day, I’d had a cheese spread ready when he came by.
And I guess that’s how we found our way back into each other’s lives, slowly, one step at a time. I couldn’t just leave the door to my heart wide-open again, and he seemed to understand this. He waited patiently … slowly but surely advancing, with meaningful glances from his deep blue eyes, coupled with a brush against my body there, a slight jostle of my breast here.
After a month or so of this, I couldn’t handle it anymore and needed his body in me, craving that hard muscularity against me, between my legs. One day when he came to pick up Nate for their daily walk, I was waiting.
“Where’s Nate?” he said, looking around the apartment futilely. The space was oddly quiet for an apartment with a one-year old.
“Nate’s with his babysitter,” I said boldly. “I thought we’d spend some time together.”