by Vivien Vale
I do hope I can open the doors today or tomorrow. I can’t wait to use the new facility.
As I walk along I can’t help but smile to myself.
How great life had worked out for me and Ford. I was able to stay here and help where I feel I’m needed most, and Ford uses this village as his headquarters for his private security firm.
And, of course, he offered Oliver the job of second in charge. To my surprise, Oliver accepted.
When I get to the hospital, I see the door is open.
With a big smile, I walk in. I can’t see anybody.
I walk from room to room until I get to what is labeled as the office of the Dactari.
Hesitantly, I enter.
I almost feel as if I’m intruding, even though it is my space. The desk is a heavy mahogany number. My father insisted on being in charge to furnish my new office.
I sit on the chair and run my hand along the wood. I would never have picked something so expensive, but it does feel nice.
A noise from the window startles me.
And then I smile. Edgar appears in the window.
“Well, hello, stranger,” I greet him.
He comes in and lands in the middle of the new desk with one graceful jump.
“What brings you hear today?” I ask and pat his soft fur.
His beady eyes look at me, and then he holds out his little paw.
I gasp as I see what he’s holding.
“Will you marry me?” Ford asks from the door, and when I look over to him, I see he’s on one knee.
With a shaking hand, I take the ring from Edgar and slip it on my finger. It fits perfectly.
“I will,” I say and walk over to where Ford is.
He stands up and pulls me into his arms.
When our lips meet and we kiss, it’s as if we’ve never kissed before.
Time stands still and all that matters to me is this kiss, Ford, and our happily ever after.
Epilogue
Ford
“Adelaide, we’re now getting to the point where we are beyond fashionably late,” I announce as I pace around the living room.
“Coming!” she yells from her closet.
I look at my watch.
Knowing traffic in London during rush hour, we’re going to need at least 45 minutes to get to the Savoy. Another 15 minutes to go through security and find our places at the table.
Add in 20 minutes for people who will want to wish us well and we’re going to be almost an hour and a half late if we leave right now.
In case you’re wondering.
It’s been another year since everything got sorted. Since I asked Adelaide to marry me.
We still work in Africa.
But fate may have smiled on us more than a few times in between then.
“Is elegant evening dress and maternity wear even a thing?” Adelaide asks me, coming out.
I look upon the most beautiful woman to have ever graced the earth.
She glows. And a lifetime of loving her comes down into two simple words.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.
Adelaide takes a moment to process my words.
She blushes.
And then twirls for me as I circle my fingers, showing her what I want.
“You just say that because you love me,” she says with a smirk, sticking out her tongue.
“So much,” I growl and reach over for her.
I trap her in my arms and hold her close.
God knows we’ve been through hell.
But it’s nice to know that on the other side of it, there is a heaven.
“So whose being the one making us late now?” she teases me.
I don’t reply. Rather I smell her hair.
“You smell like a Ford,” she coos. “I like Ford.”
I hold her closer.
One year we’ve lived in happiness and bliss.
Adelaide has had massive success in her projects. Combined with my private security enterprises, for the first two months all we did was work day and night. Taking brief snatches of time to sleep we were so fixated on getting things started and on the right footing.
This time, we were going to do better.
This time we were going to do things right.
Have you ever had a day where you worked to the point of exhaustion but once the certain time of day came you said fuck all to everything you had so you could spend time with your man or woman that you loved?
That was us.
Almost as if we were starting from scratch.
Which, in many ways we were.
But within a month and half of expanding our efforts, we took in some NGO operatives in the area. They were impressed with Adelaide’s operation after they had contacted me to provide security in the region as they travelled.
They went back to Geneva where they apparently began to talk about us.
The next thing we knew we were getting queries from the Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders, the Peace Corps, and multiple departments within the United Nations.
The UNESCO contract was the last one we secured and it landed us on the cover of Foreign Policy magazine as well on most newspapers stateside.
‘The Couple That’s Changing the World’ they labelled us.
Fox News ran a piece on us and the good work we were doing. CNN invited us to become a CNN Hero.
We received standing passes to visit, speak, and listen to UN proceedings in New York.
And we began to advocate for the causes that we saw needed help.
Whether humanitarian in nature or in regard to private security we became the experts.
So much so, that we have an award ceremony tonight.
United Nations Humanitarians of the Year.
Sounds insane. For a guy like me.
But Adelaide?
She was born for this.
“Darling, we’re getting to the point where we’re going to be beyond fashionably late,” Adelaide whispers in a teasing lilt into my ear.
“I could stand being very unfashionably late right now doing this,” I say. Of course I’m standing there grabbing her ass as I squeeze it.
“Mmmm,” she hums into my ear. “Who needs an award from the UN, anyways?”
When we were informed of the award, Adelaide at first didn’t want to go. She said it would take away from her time doing actual work.
I had to convince her that it was necessary. A lot more good work could be done by meeting people, greeting them, and smiling at their torrid jokes.
The bureaucrats were never going to the heart of Africa. But we could bring the heart of Africa to them.
London was a nice change. While we’ve only been here at the George V Hotel in London for five days, we’ve taken in as much of the city as we were able.
It’s a far cry from the world we spend most of our time in.
The amounts of money we may be awarded or make - Doctors Without Borders awarded us $40 million last month¬¬¬––doesn’t get a chance to get spent when you’re in the middle of a village in Africa. But in the middle of Mayfair or Kings Cross or Kensington that money has come in handy. And I’ve bought for Adelaide the experiences that her work normally prevents her from having.
Who knows? I’ve been thinking about purchasing a small apartment in London the last few days. A place to come and relax to. A place to expand our work.
A home that we can both come back to if we need to.
Because more than anything I want to make a home with this woman.
Raise our child together.
Ensure that they’re happy and protected.
Of course Adelaide has to be given the freedom to do what she thinks is best.
“Let’s go,” I say after a moment of thinking, releasing her. She pecks me on the cheek and then dons her coat. We step out of the room and head to the elevators which take us down to the lobby and we see our car and driver waiting for us out front.
“I am so happy, Ford,” she tells m
e.
I smile.
As am I, my sweet dear love.
As am I.
Burning Hearts
A Second Chance Secret Baby Romance
By Vivien Vale
Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Chapter 1
Boone
The second I see the flames rising, all I can think about is her.
Margot St. James. Daughter of my father’s most hated business rival. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my damn life. And my best friend in the whole fucking world, whether my parents approve or not.
From the moment I first met Margot, I knew I wanted to make her my wife. But Margot’s parents don’t like me any more than my father likes her. So if friendship with her was what I had to settle for, I’d take it.
Yet as my firetruck pulls up to her burning sorority house, I realize I might not even have that for much longer.
Margot’s life is in danger. And there’s not a second to waste.
“Boone, wait!” I hear one of my buddies on the squad call after me as I hop out of the truck and start sprinting for the Omega house’s front door.
The university’s volunteer firefighters are just dumb college kids with hero complexes, and we know it.
My brothers on the squad mean the world to me. We can always count on each other to save the guy that’s making the most dangerous calls for himself, taking the biggest risks.
But as I search the gathered crowd of Omega sorority sisters for Margot’s face and come up empty, I know that nothing’s going to stop me from running into that inferno and getting her out alive.
It didn’t even cross my mind that Margot might not be inside. That maybe she’s studying late at the library or—God forbid—maybe she’s staying the night with some asshole frat boy who won’t appreciate her the way I do.
Sometimes when you know, you just know.
There’s something deep in my most basic instinct—some caveman part of my lizard brain—which senses that the love of my life, my soulmate is in danger. So I don’t even hesitate.
I shoulder through the burning red front door of the house and crash my way in.
I know where Margot’s room is. It’s the same place I always take her when we’re out at a party and she gets so tired. She usually nods off before she even has a chance to finish a beer.
I’ve carried her up these very stairs a dozen times this year alone. I know the length of the hall to her room, just as well as I know the way home after a long shift at the firehouse.
The fact that there are half a dozen burning wooden beams that block Margot’s room doesn’t make a lick of difference. I flip my face mask down, and heft one after another to the side, like they’re no more than fucking toothpicks.
But, with each one I move out of my path, I have to accept the reality of the situation. The roof is already burning. The support beams are already dropping from overhead.
This house is a deathtrap, and the love of my life is still inside.
As I move the last beam, I try not to let the thought cross my mind—what if I’m too late? It’s not an option. Either I save Margot St. James tonight, or I die trying.
My life for hers…That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
The knob on Margot’s bedroom door looks red hot—opening it could cause a backdraft that would make the whole house explode like a powder keg.
I have to be smart. Times like this, the brain can’t process, so the training kicks in.
I need to vent the smoke before I can complete this search and rescue. Luckily, I’m easily six foot four. Four years on the college football team have left my arms thick and powerful with muscle. With my axe in hand, I brutally chop a hole where the wall meets the ceiling and watch as thick, black smoke pours out like rich, bold dark roast in a coffee cup.
Once the room is vented, I charge through the door without a single thought about what might be on the other side…except for her.
My eyes find her immediately. She’s passed out on her bed wearing nothing but my football jersey, surrounded by flames. Even like this, with mortal danger all around her, there’s no denying it—Margot is the most beautiful woman in the entire fucking world.
It only makes my need to save her all the more urgent.
Those long, bare legs. That beautiful blonde hair. The thick curtains of her eyelashes and the little smile that plays on her lips while she sleeps soundly…
She’s too good. Too perfect. Too pure.
Too precious for me to lose.
I brave the flames. I can feel them licking my calves, even through my fire pants. The entire room is hazy with heat and smoke, which makes it hard to breathe, let alone think.
So I don’t think.
I just do.
I scoop Margot up in my arms, careful not to hurt her.
I protect her with my body as I carry her— like a groom carries his bride—over the flames.
In the days that follow, I know I’ll think about what might have happened if I had gotten there just a few seconds later. Just a few seconds—that’s all it would have taken.
I’ll think about what could have happened if I hadn’t been on shift tonight, or if I’d never met Margot to begin with.
But, in the moment, there’s no time to think of these scenarios.
There’s barely even time to catch my breath.
The moment that I stumble back out of Omega house’s front door, the roof caves in. The entire fucking thing deflates like a failed soufflé.
If I had hesitated for just a second… it would have been my life for hers . But, no. I can’t think of that.
I’ve had a good life. I wasted my teenage years being the party boy heir to the Masters’ family fortune. I spent four years of college pounding the football field and the books—usually in that order.
Hell, earlier today I even walked across the stage at graduation. And I didn’t miss the look in my father’s eyes when Margot came over to kiss me on the cheek in congratulations.
I would have given it all up in an instant if it had meant the beautiful woman here in my arms would live.
“Oxygen!” I call out, lumbering towards an ambulance. Its flashing lights turn Margot’s pale face bright red and blue as we approach.
A medic places an oxygen mask over Margot’s mouth and nose as I drop to the pavement, still cradling her in my arms.
It’s then that an awful thought hits me: what if I was too late?
But before I can fall into a cycle of guilt that would have sent me spiraling out of control, Margot’s thick, dark lashes flutter and the corner of her lips twitch.
Her eyes open, looking for something to figure out where she was.
They meet mine and I fall in love with her all over again.
Happens every fucking time.
“Boone?” she rasps, knitting her brows together in confusion.
“Hey,” I say, flipping my helmet off, and cradling her cheek in my hand. “Hey, you. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
She moves against my glove, nuzzling my palm instinctively. It leaves streaks of soot against the perfect paleness of her cheekbone.
“What happened, Boone?”
“Nothing you need to worry about now.”
The medic offers me a blanket, and I wrap it around her as the night sky opens up to make way for soft rain. I position my body over hers, shielding her from the downpour until I’m soaked.
I think it’s then that I finally realize—no matter what happens or where our futures lead, Margot St. James will always be the woman for
me.
Whether she’ll have me or not.
Even if it takes an entire lifetime…I can wait.
Chapter 2
Margot
I’ve known it from the moment I first laid eyes on Boone Masters.
It was always going to be him.
You recover quicker than you think you will.
Sure, my lungs burned for a few days after Boone pulled me from my burning sorority house just moments before it collapsed entirely.
But I’m young—and I’m in college. Ultimately, it was on par with a nasty hangover, the kind you get when you go to a frat party and the boys all decide to light up cigars.
I drank some water.
I let the nurses in the hospital fuss over me for a few days.
I took a shower and washed the last of the soot and ash and smoke from my hair.
After that, the next order of business seemed pretty obvious.
Boone Masters saved my life that night. And with graduation over, I know he’ll be gone in a few days...maybe for good.
I might have grown up with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I wasn’t raised to be ungrateful.
Boone and I come from the same world. So, what do you get someone who has everything?
For his going-away present, Boone gave me my life.
There’s not much that I can give him to match that...but in my defense, at least my thank-you gift is one-of-a-kind.
When he answers the door, he’s in a pair of sweatpants. That’s it. Nothing else.
“Hey...Margot,” he says, blinking in surprise.
Overhead, the moon shines bright. Busy cars zip by on the street outside as our fellow students head home for the summer. The rain on the road reflects the cars’ headlights.
“Hey, Boone. Can I come in?”
“Ah...” He casts a glance over his shoulder to the interior of his apartment.
Most of his things are boxed up behind him. He’s ready to move out in the morning.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I don’t mind.”
Boone shrugs and shifts his massive, broad shoulders aside so I can enter.
“It’s a mess,” he admits. “But if you don’t mind...”
I could care less—but I hope he hasn’t packed up his bed yet.