Page 119 of The Perfect Mistake

And I couldn’t handle it if she left me.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t imagine the future if the obstacles didn’t exist. If she was truly mine.

I reach down and grab a hold of my cock. It thickens quickly in my grip. Behind my closed lids, I imagine Isabel in a wedding dress. Peeling it off her and hearing her laugh when I’m stunned by the lacy underwear she’d worn for the occasion. On her finger, a wedding band and a diamond engagement. She’d protested against the large stone but secretly loves it. She giggles when I tug down the cups of her bra, calling me eager, gripping my hair when I suck on her nipples.

In my fantasy, there’s no guilt, no one looking down on us for being together, only pure joy on her face. She’s looking at me like I can give her everything she’s ever wanted. She’s calling me her husband. And when I imagine it’s her left hand around my cock instead of my own, I pretend to feel her wedding band against my sensitive skin.

I orgasm to the vision of coming inside of her in our bridal suite. Isabel whispering my name, her back arching beneath me, and her beautiful body on display in the brilliant sunlight. It’s not a stolen moment in my bedroom at night. It’s slow, and luxurious, and ours. It’s the start of something.

And when I finally fall asleep, it’s with a dream that all of it could be a reality.

I’m in a terrible mood the next morning. The kids must notice it, too, because Sam acts up during breakfast and has a small meltdown at having to wear his rainboots. It’s the weather doesn’t have much sway over a five-year-old.

Isabel and Mac take the kids to school, and I grab a cab to the office for an early meeting. It’s with a firm in Europe that Nate’s trying to acquire, and with the time difference, it’s harder to get the meetings scheduled.

Things move smoothly. As smoothly as they can, at any rate, until there’s a buzz at my desk from my assistant.

“Constance is here to see you.”

Ah.

We don’t have a meeting scheduled, and there’s only one reason she’s here.

“Send her in,” I say.

The door swings open, and my sister walks in. Her auburn hair, the detail that makes her look so much like our mother, is pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her face is set in tense lines.

“Connie,” I say.

“Alec,” she counters. She sits down on the chair across from my desk and crosses her legs, like she’s preparing for a battle.

“I’m sorry you found out like that,” I say.

Her eyes narrow into slits. “Sorry because you wanted to be the one to share the news? Or sorry because no one was ever supposed to know?”

Okay. So it’s going to be one of these conversations.

Conflict with Connie has always been rare. It wasn’t until earlier this year that she started to show me the fire I’ve seen her display elsewhere.

I tap my fingers on the desk. “What did Isabel say to that?”

“No,” she says, and her voice hardens. “I’m asking you.”

“And I’m not going to answer that question.”

“You’re not allowed to go into CEO mode here. This isn’t a business negotiation.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing with me?” I ask her. “You’re doing well, by the way.”

She shakes her head. “Look, I’m the one who recommended her to you. I’m the one who insisted on it, and I did it because I knew, or thought I knew, that you’d be a great employer. Tough, yeah. But not one who would take advantage of her.”

“I’m not taking advantage of her.”

“Yeah, she said the exact same thing,” Connie says.

“What more did she say?”

But Connie just crosses her arms over her chest. “You can’t fire her if it becomes too inconvenient for you.”

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