Page 126 of Black Sheep

I can plan a nursery.

I still have my interior design degree. I can apply for an internship once the baby is old enough. Or I can find a job I can do from home.

The world is my oyster. But I only want one thing.

Axel.

I step out into the fall sunshine, lift my face up to it. The chill that shrouds my heart doesn’t dissipate.

Axel.

I thought him a cold-blooded murderer even when my soul screamed otherwise and craved him anyway. My head made excuses to not love him while my heart flew every time he touched me. I miss that touch. That touch he promised me would always be mine, whether I wanted it or not.

My steps slow, my thoughts whirling. When my heart skips a beat, I breathe through it. I find a coffee shop, order a decaf pumpkin spice latte. And I plot my course of action.

Half an hour later, I dig out my phone, and I dial. A short conversation and I have the information I need. I take a cab to XYNYC and ask the driver to wait.

Getting out, I walk up the black carpet to where the familiar-looking bouncer is vetting the early comers. He spots me and walks over to lift the velvet rope.

“You wanna come in, miss?” he says deferentially. “The boss is inside.”

I look toward the silver steel doors, every cell in my body yearning to fling myself through them. But for what I’m planning, I need a quiet haven. Hopefully one he’ll never want to leave.

I smile. “No, thanks. But could you give him something from me? But not right this minute. In about half an hour?”

He looks puzzled, but he nods. “Sure thing, miss.”

I hand over the envelope, and I leave.

My hotel suite isn’t as sumptuous as his penthouse but it’s fit for this purpose. I figure I have forty-five minutes to an hour tops before he turns up. I jump in the shower, slathering myself in the expensive gel I treated myself to yesterday.

My dress is already laid out. I slip it on, tug on my heels, and gather my hair in a topknot that leaves my neck bare. I’m slipping on silver chandelier earrings when I hear the firm knock.

Butterflies surge into my midriff. I slide a soothing hand over my belly. Leaving the bedroom, I open the door.

He fills my doorway. My world. Tall. Primitive. Proud. Fierce.

His eyes probe, consume me from head to belly to toe and back up again.

I clasp my hands behind my back. “Hi, Axel. You got my note?”

He walks into the suite and shuts the door behind him. “I got your note. And the picture. Please tell me that fucking tattoo isn’t real?”

“What if it is?”

His nostrils flare with barely controlled fury. “Then you’ll be heading to a laser doctor to have it removed pretty fucking quick.”

“Why?”

“Because that word has no fucking place on your beautiful body, that’s why.”

“You wear it on your skin.”

He shoves a hand through his hair. “We’re not doing this again.”

“Why? Am I not worth your time, Axel?” I inquire softly.

He stops, his piercing eyes incredulous. “Not worth… What the fuck are you talking about? You’re worth every—” His eyes narrow. “Why am I really here, Cleo?”

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