“Begonia?” Hyacinth asks.
I beam at her. “You’re going to be the most gorgeous diaper-changer in the world.”
“We’re totes getting you the seamstress package so you can have the dress refitted after…” Keisha waves at Hyacinth’s belly. “Well, after.”
I make myself crack up at the look on Keisha’s face.
Hyacinth squints at me.
She knows I’m faking it.
But she doesn’t press.
She will later. But for now, I point to the anemic display of dresses, which I assume is merely a front for the good stuff somewhere else.
That’s how it seems to work in this world. “Let’s go have some fun.”
30
Hayes
The office is so hectic, I miss dinner with Begonia and Hyacinth in Manhattan, and even with their late night, I’m home after they are. Friday morning, I’m up before the sun, headed back to Albany, before Begonia’s awake.
I miss her.
Despite sleeping next to her all night, I feel as though I haven’t seen her in weeks.
It’s only been three days since we slept under the moon and stars, but it seems like an eternity. The text message updates she sent while shopping with Keisha and Hyacinth weren’t enough. I want to see the light in her eyes and watch her glow as she tells me the story of her day, in bed or over coffee, or in bed with coffee, or while sitting under the stars on a picnic blanket in the hills, and then I want to kiss her and strip her and seduce her until she’s screaming my name for all the world to hear.
It’s a sure sign this is more than the fake relationship she’s signed up for, and it’s a sure sign I should cut my losses, tear up our contract, and get out now.
But when I arrive home at six Friday evening, early enough to get ready for the Windsor Charity Gala tonight, there’s no cut your losses at the top of my mind.
Only dear god, she’s beautiful.
She and Hyacinth are both in the sitting room in my quarters—easily fixed this morning from the accident early this week once I gave orders to the designer and contractors to only accept Begonia’s opinion—each in robes that I suspect they picked up at the spa yesterday, both of them having their hair done.
Begonia’s entire face shines like a full moon on a clear night when she spots me. “Hayes! You’re home! Guess what? I made a bowl that looks like a bowl this morning.”
I do not deserve this woman and her sunshine. I know for a fact that packages have begun arriving for her, gifts from companies hoping the world’s last eligible billionaire’s girlfriend will get caught wearing or using their products in public—and yes, I do mean diamonds, pearls, high-end fashion, and more electronics than you can find at a computer show—yet the first thing she squeals about is making a clay bowl.
How anyone could not adore her is utterly beyond me.
I cross the room, and her stylist retreats as I lean down to kiss her.
I miss kissing her.
Those plump lips and that sweet tongue and her soft noises—she’s exquisitely, uniquely perfect.
“Wow,” Hyacinth says. “You should keep this one, B. I’m getting turned on just watching.”
I pull out of our kiss, and Begonia smiles at me while she wipes at my lips, where I presume I’m now wearing her lipstick. “It’s like having two Keishas in the house,” she whispers.
“I have another house in the Hamptons. We can be there alone by eight if we leave now.”
Begonia laughs. “Of course you do.”
“Hello, Mr. Billionaire. You invited me.” Hyacinth sounds so very similar to my Begonia, but there’s no mistaking the difference between them.
“No arguing,” Begonia declares as she loosens my tie for me. She glances at her sister. “Not when you’re abandoning me right before this ball.”
I lift a brow at Hyacinth.
She sighs. “I miss my babies and my husband and my bed and I kinda can’t wait to walk through my front door looking like a fucking queen. Plus, this dress is totes amazeballs, but I’d spend half the night tugging it up and down to pee, and I’ve needed to tell Jerry he’s getting snipped for a while, and what better time than now, when I can walk through my front door and start issuing orders like I’m the love child of Martha Stewart and Cleopatra? Begonia swore you wouldn’t mind if I took the dress and ran.”
I have no idea what my face is doing right now, but I manage to push aside thoughts of Jerry and his impending doom as I nod. “Correct. Enjoy the dress and run.”