by Lana Grayson
But I was the eldest. I was the heir. The Bennetts didn’t skip generations. Father to son. Always. He had no cause to kill me unless he truly believed I’d let Sarah raise the baby as an Atwood and deny his true blood.
I’d be a better father than mine was, but I wasn’t a strong enough man to let her go.
“We can’t do this anymore,” Sarah said. “This is why I have to leave. He knows about the baby, and he’ll murder you all because you defied him. I won’t let my son live a life of fear.” Her voice softened. “And I won’t let Darius hurt any of you because of me.”
I frowned. “We can protect ourselves. Don’t worry about us.”
“I always worry about you!” The admission frustrated her, and she bit a profanity. “He threatened me tonight. He’ll do whatever it takes to steal this baby, even if that means killing his own children to secure his new heir.”
“He’s not taking my son,” I said. “It’s not going to happen.”
“He’s already planning it.”
“And we’re planning for the end as well.”
“He’s going to kill you. I can’t…I won’t survive that. I’ve endured so much, Nicholas Bennett, but I can’t handle the thought—”
“I won’t die. Not if I have you and the baby to live for. I don’t care how many guards I have to hire or where I’ll need to hide you, but you will be safe, and we’ll be together. We’ll be happy, Sarah. I promise you.”
Tears rolled over her cheeks. “You don’t understand. There’s never going to be a happily ever after. Not for us.”
“We love each other. We have a chance to put everything behind us and start completely new. You and me and—”
“Don’t say it!” Sarah stood, pitching the blanket away. “Don’t say it, Nick!”
“Say what?” My jaw clenched. Too hard. It ached in the quick rise of my temper. “Why are you denying me what’s mine? You have a right to hate me, but do not take my son from me.”
“Stop.”
“You can be frightened. You can be angry. You can blame my family for all this madness. But I know you love me. Why are you pushing me away?”
“Don’t you dare insinuate I owe you or your family anything—not after what you put me through. This baby is innocent, like I was before you took everything from me. Don’t tell me you have a right. This baby deserves better than the right to be a Bennett. He won’t be. I won’t let it happen.”
“Why?”
I stood in her path, but she wouldn’t escape. She had nowhere to go. Again, I trapped her within the confines of my territory, my house, my life. She wasn’t leaving this time.
I forced her to look at me. She twisted, but she was no match for my strength. Reed protested, and Max dared to touch my shoulder.
I’d break his arm before he pulled me from her. Not when I was so close.
Not when she finally looked at me—tears in her eyes.
“Let me love you, Sarah. Forgive me. Fight me. Do whatever you need to do, but don’t leave me. Not when I can promise you a family.”
“I can’t.”
“Don’t take my child—”
“Goddamn it, Nick! I don’t know if it’s your baby!”
Silence.
She stepped away, covering her mouth with trembling hands.
She hadn’t meant to say it.
A chill prickled my skin.
Her voice cracked in agony.
And then I knew.
God, I knew.
Why she ran. Why she pulled away. Why she fought so hard to isolate herself.
Why she wanted to be free of us.
I knew.
She kept the secret not to protect herself, but to shield me from the truth.
“He followed you, Nick.” Her words were living nightmare. “He followed you that night.”
The world fell away and my soul with it. It was battered and destroyed before, but what remained shredded against the realization of what I caused.
I left her.
I led him to her.
And I wasn’t there to stop it.
“I begged you to stay,” she whispered. “I thought it was you at the door. I thought you came back for me.”
And I thought I left her in safety.
She stared at me.
I knew what she would say.
“Darius raped me.”
I didn’t flinch. Reed groaned, sinking into the couch, head in his hands. He repeated only a single, heartbreaking word.
“No, no, no.” His breath raged with a sob. “No, no, no.”
Max stormed away before shouting. The crash that followed was only the first of many. The powder room mirror shattered. His fist through the glass.
I didn’t let myself break.
Sarah needed my strength. I stayed still, motionless, a pillar of stability though my heart had long since ceased beating. I stood through sheer force of will with an unresponsive body.
She cried, but her words never stopped. “He said he’d come back for me. So I ran. I just ran. I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t think. And then I realized I was…I got…” She shook her head. “He has to die, Nick. Before anything else happens. Before he hurts me, kills you, or takes…”
She hadn’t cradled her stomach before. Not in front of me, and not just because she was still flat with the secret she carried. She held herself—the baby.
My baby.
Too long she hid in her secret, protecting me from what happened. I didn’t deserve that compassion. And she never, ever should’ve suffered in such a way.
It ended now. She would never fear him again.
I cradled her in my arms, letting her rest against the sofa and pulling her into my lap where I could hold her, touch her, kiss her.
Where I whispered my love to her.
She let me, but I didn’t know how long it’d last. Just having her close eased the horror.
I would never burden her with my pain. I’d hide the black sludge of despair that clawed through my chest and tightened against my heart, my lungs, my life.
I gave it one moment, a dark second of helplessness, before banishing it.
If she was strong enough to survive, to face my father, to plot her revenge, then I would be too.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry.”
I kissed her forehead, speaking with a renewed strength of hope and promise.
“Don’t ever apologize for what happened.” My words stilled her trembling. “Don’t ever apologize. There’s only one thing to discuss, Sarah. And it’s important.”
She nodded, letting me brush the tears from her face. “What is it?”
I kissed her, letting a soft smile chase away her sorrow. “We need to think of a name for our baby.”
Sabotaging the Bennett Corporation’s Board of Directors began too close at home.
First, I had to endanger my own company. Shelling out millions to Darius Bennett was an exercise in humility and patience for me and my board. Generations of hate once prevented my family from thinking beyond the petty rivalry. One night changed that.
Now I understood how to get my revenge and ruin the Bennett Empire.
If it cost me a couple million dollars, so be it.
The Atwood board and the presidents of my divisions weren’t happy, and I switched off the web chat with a fake smile and promises to visit the farms within the month. I had to do the tours soon. I didn’t have much time before I started to show.
When that happened, the questions would begin.
It had to be in motion before the baby revealed himself. Just the whisper of Bennett would complicate everything.
Especially since the baby belonged to my step-brother.
It had to be Nicholas’s child.
He knocked on his own bedroom door. The room was mine, unconditionally. He hadn’t pressured to join me at night, but his sheets smelled of him. Masculine and sharp.
The fireplace in the corner housed a beautiful sitting area for my compute
r and workspace.
A good place for a bassinet, he had said.
“How’d it go?” Nicholas asked.
“The board doesn’t understand why I ordered the change to Bennett products.”
“And you didn’t explain.”
I fiddled with the modem beside my laptop. When I got nauseous, I pretended to have connectivity issues and unplugged the router. It worked twice.
“I can’t afford to explain. I need my fields treated and growing before we make the next move.”
“It’s dangerous.”
I shrugged. “What isn’t dangerous anymore?”
Nicholas didn’t like the thought. He changed the subject.
He did that a lot lately.
“Let me get you something to eat,” he said.
I scrunched my nose. “Reed’s been leaving me salads, slushies, cookies, fruit. Nothing’s staying down.”
And Food was the only connection I had to Reed now. Both he and Max quieted after I revealed the truth. Only Nicholas looked me in the eyes. Held me. Promised me the world.
It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. But it didn’t stop him from trying.
“Trust me, Sarah. You’ll like this.”
Doubtful, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Anything was better than devouring only saltines and the occasional slice of an apple or can of sauerkraut—which would have been weird had I not snacked on it before I was pregnant.
Nicholas guided me to the dining room.
God, this man.
He decorated the table with roses and candlelight. Crystal serving glasses set around china dinnerware, complete with hand-folded napkins—an approximation of some sort of swan. He offered me a glass of cold milk. Milk was still touch-and-go, but he insisted. I waited as he lifted a silver carafe.
“How long was I in that meeting?” I peeked into the bowl. “No way.”
“I have on good authority one of your favorites is homemade cream of mushroom soup with wild rice,” he said. “Think you’re up to trying it?”
My mouth watered just looking at the creamy soup, and in a good way this time. He guided me to my seat and ladled a small bite into the bowl. He waited, eagerly, as I sampled it.
The soup tasted of home, comfort, and everything warm from my memory.
“How?” I asked.
“I have my sources.”
“Nick.”
His smile brightened the room more than the candles. I wished I saw more of it.
“I called your mom. Got the recipe.”
“She remembered?”
“You tell me.”
I swallowed another spoonful. My stomach eased immediately, and, for the first time in days, I kept something down.
“It’s perfect,” I said.
“I thought it would be.”
“You did all this for me?”
Nicholas sipped a glass of white wine. “I only made you dinner, Sarah. I should have known what your favorite meal was. I should have dined with you in candlelight and music—” He pulled his phone from his pocket. Hidden speakers in the room murmured a quiet jazz. “I should have done so much more for you. It starts now.”
“What does?”
“Everything. Us. You. Me.”
“Nick—”
“I want you here, with me,” he said. “Forever.”
So did I, but the need, the wanting was too dangerous. I hadn’t decided where to go or what to do. I thought the decision would be easier without the truth binding me in secret.
It did the opposite.
Nicholas insisted the baby was his. And now I recognized the proud, determined gaze as he offered me all of himself—his imperfections, failures, and the vow of devotion that came from loving Nicholas Bennett.
“Adam,” he said.
It didn’t feel right. I shook my head. “I’ll know it when I hear it.”
“Then let me suggest some. Jonathon?”
But what if it wasn’t a boy? What if the little one were a Juliet or a Piper? Would we talk about those? Or would we keep living in a quiet dread? My intuition said boy, I felt like it was a boy, but I wasn’t ready to face any other possibility.
“Giving him a name is important.” I lowered the spoon. “We have time.”
And so much could go wrong.
“It’ll be sooner than you think,” he said.
“We’re not harvesting yet.” I took another bite of the soup. “Then again, I can’t imagine this yield.”
He smirked. “Bumper crop this year.”
I giggled. “Yeah well, Bumper’s got some time left before he pops out.”
“Bumper Bennett.”
“Oh, great. He’ll inherit two billion dollar companies just to sell used cars for a living.”
I hadn’t laughed in a long time. I also hadn’t finished a full meal. I helped myself to seconds and pushed the bowl away with a victorious grin.
“You did well, Nicholas Bennett.”
“I promised I’d take care of you.”
I believed him. That’s why it was so hard.
I carried my bowl to the kitchen, but Nicholas didn’t let me straighten up. He pulled me to the living room, offering me the couch, a fuzzy blanket, and the remote.
“You should rest,” he said. “You look pale.”
Did I? Then there was a merciful God because what I was feeling wasn’t tired or sick.
Not at all.
A full belly and a clear conscience chased away the dark thoughts, the fear, and the uncertainty. But the hormones fueled something much more dangerous than weepy tears and fatigue.
It had been far too long since I last touched Nicholas, and even longer since I let myself think of our last night together. The few kisses he offered, I denied in self-preservation.
But I had confronted Darius.
I’d revealed the secret.
I’d confided in my step-brothers about the baby.
And yet, that hesitance remained. I hid my weaknesses, but I hadn’t let Nicholas touch me. I flinched away from Reed. I even shielded my tummy when Max raised his arms in a stretch.
Surviving Darius’s hatred meant nothing if I still cowered from the men who promised only safety.
If I still denied my feelings for Nicholas.
The only sane and rational solution was to cut the Bennetts from my life and protect my child.
But he also needed a father.
I deserved to end Darius’s hold over me. I wanted to be loved again. Worshiped. Adored.
Pleasured.
Safe.
And Nicholas tempted me with such beautiful promises.
The curtains were open, revealing the sparkling city, a sunset, and the Santa Cruz mountains shadowed in the distance. I’d never get used to lights and traffic, or a sky without stars and a view without the green sprawl of growing corn. I missed the farm, but the longing to return dulled within Nicholas’s presence. Once I left, I’d endure a different type of homesickness.
I didn’t know when it happened, but Nicholas became my home.
He caught me looking at him, admiring how his dress shirt and dark trousers melded to his body. Whatever he did the night I was kidnapped, whatever he and Reed survived, washed away like the blood that stained his skin.
“Why are you doing all this?” I asked. “The penthouse. The dinner. You hired a guard to protect me, but you still keep Reed and Max here. What do you want?”
“You.”
He said it so easily, unapologetically. I ached for just an ounce of his confidence.
“You don’t understand how hard it is for me,” I said.
Nicholas knelt before me, close enough to touch. He respected the few inches of space separating our bodies. I still felt him, his heat. It warmed me, softening my guarded confusion and loneliness.
“I want to understand,” he said. “I know I can’t, but I’ll try, Sarah.”
I hadn’t whispered the thoughts I tucked deep down, secret and dark. It left me too vulnerable, es
pecially to the man who forced that vulnerability on me. But I couldn’t hide from my own insecurities. I guarded myself so strictly I no longer understood what was right or wrong, strength or weakness. And maybe there wasn’t a clear definition. Maybe it didn’t matter.
Or maybe revealing everything to Nicholas would bind me to his power and trap me in the mire of my desperate feelings for him.
“I’m not broken,” I whispered.
“No one can break you. I learned that long ago.”
“But I still feel fractured,” I said. “You can’t see it, but it’s there. Thousands and thousands of little cracks straining to stay together in one piece. If I let go, I’ll crumble. And I can’t be put back together how I was.” I brushed my stomach. “Especially since there are more pieces now.”
Nicholas leaned close, the gold in his eyes fierce and honest. “You could fall and rebuild yourself an infinite amount of times, and each new you would be stronger than the last.”
“No. Every fall changes me. And as much as I’ve tried to recover from…the attack, there’s still a part of me that isn’t right. A part of me he controls.”
“The baby isn’t his.”
“It isn’t the baby, it’s me.” I took a breath. “I faced him. I told you the truth. But I still don’t understand myself or what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“Control over my own body. What I feel. Who I trust.”
He nodded. “You can trust me.”
“We’ve never trusted each other. Not when there was a collar around my neck and not now that…”
“What’s left to hide?” Nicholas looked away, revealing more of himself than I thought he’d give. “When I first met you, when I stole you, I thought I’d have it all. I thought it was owed to me, that you were something I could take and possess.”
It wasn’t possession if I gave it willingly. I said nothing, letting him speak.
“I knew my father was evil, but I believed I’d take the same path and somehow become a better man. You saved me from myself. You became something so irreplaceable that I wake at night in awe of just having you near again.” He hesitated, as though he’d reach for me. I hated that I pulled away. “You amaze me. I never knew a person could be so resilient.”
“I shouldn’t have to be resilient.”
“But you are.”