Page 88 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
“Time to tuck Ares in,” Byron observed smoothly, his eyes burning with blue flames that promised carnal pleasure to come after we put our son to bed. I should fight him. Keep my distance. But I didn’t have any fight left in me. It was as if the six years of grinding, sacrifices, and pain all caught up to me.
“Did you know Ares is Byron’s middle name too?” Winston addressed me for the first time tonight.
I stiffened, but kept my composure. I did know it. It was part of Byron’s medical chart, but neither Winston nor Byron knew that. And I’d been practicing what I would say if this ever came up. So I was totally prepared.
“No,” I lied. “What a weird coincidence.” When I learned I’d have a son, a part of me had wanted to tie him to Byron regardless of the way we parted. I fell for my one-night stand and letting go was so damn hard that I had to keep part of it alive. It came in the form of his name. “Mythological names became popular, and I jumped on the bandwagon.”
Winston arched an eyebrow, as if to sayyou are so full of shit.
Well, he had nothing on me and no evidence. Byron and I never discussed his middle name.
With a last peck on my sister’s cheek and a terse nod, I joined my son and new husband. Byron led me out of the living room by the small of my back and toward the wing of the house where his private rooms were. Whereourprivate rooms were.
Byron’s lips were curved as Ares kept shaking his head when I offered help. Leaning against the door of the private bathroom, he watched us with an indescribable look in his eyes.
“Thank you for keeping his room close,” I murmured as my heart thumped wildly. Ares was brushing his teeth, insisting on his independence.
“Of course. This is where he belongs.” His cryptic answer didn’t help to ease my anxiety.
After Ares’s teeth were brushed, we changed him into his favorite set of pajamas and read a book. Much to his delight, Byron and I alternated the dialogue pieces and something in my chest cracked hearing Ares’s happy giggles each time we switched voices.
But all the while, my body buzzed in anticipation of what was to come.
* * *
My heart drummed against my ribs as I sat on Byron’s large, comfortable bed, wearing what he had chosen for me. A satin, white babydoll with matching panties. The set was still in the delicately wrapped package when he’d handed it to me.
The sound of the shower running filled my ears. I took one first, hoping it’d settle my nerves. If anything, it kept them teetering on the edge. Byron’s home was luxurious and expensive, nothing I was accustomed to. We grew up comfortable but not rich. But we were happy. This home felt… too big. Too empty.
My jaw clenched, knowing my choices were limited in terms of home and future settings. I’d have preferred to raise Ares on the French Riviera, surrounded by warmth, love, and happy memories. Not in a metropolitan city. Washington, D.C., was never on my list of dream cities to visit, never mind living in.
“What are you thinking about?”
I startled, pulling my knees closer to my chest. Byron stood in the doorway in nothing but a pair of black boxers. Involuntarily, my eyes roamed over his body and my face flushed. Much to my dismay, he had the most magnificent body. I’d hardly had the chance to fully take him in earlier in his office, but now I did, he looked better than I remembered. My eyes settled on his tattoo of the elements, remembering how fascinated I was with it when I first saw him naked. I gulped, letting my gaze travel down his chest, then abs, to where a deep V was clearly visible below his waistband.
I finally tore my gaze away from his body and met his eyes. It was then that I realized he had a new tattoo. Right on his chest. It was done with a light hand, almost as if he didn’t want it noticeable.
“What’s that tattoo on your chest?”
His gaze on me, he walked up to the bed, and I swallowed hard. The look in his eyes told me there’d be little sleeping tonight. There was such a burning desire in those blue depths that I feared it’d consume me alive. What worried me most was knowing the same look was reflected in my own eyes.
“Byron, I asked you a question,” I murmured, my whole body humming in anticipation.
“It’s a date.” Okay, it wasn’t what I expected. “The date we met.”
A soft gasp tore from me as I stared at him, dumbfounded. He had the date we met tattooed on his chest. Why? What did that mean?
As if he didn’t just drop that bomb on me, he got into bed and turned to face me, his back against the headboard, leaving his torso exposed. My desire kicked up a notch, matching his and urging me to touch him. Maybe it was his admission, or maybe it was just the fact it was him. Either way, my fingers trembled with the need to feel him. He looked so ridiculously attractive, I was losing my resolve to keep myself detached. After what felt like the longest day of my life, I could feel the fight leaving my body.
“Come here,” he murmured, looking at me through heavy eyelids. Before I could even process his words, I shifted to my knees, crawling to him over the ridiculously large bed. “You’re as beautiful as I remember.” He took a strand of my hair between his fingers and lifted it to his nose, inhaling deeply. “You smell the same too.”
Byron reached for me, drawing a soft yelp from me when he lifted me into his arms and positioned me so I was straddling him. He placed his hands on my thighs and looked into my eyes, his gaze moving leisurely, as though attempting to memorize every inch of my face.
My heart raced, wild and hard, threatening to crack my ribs.
“My Madeline,” he whispered, his voice husky. I was in his good graces if he was back to calling me by my middle name. “Look at me, wife.” I bit down on my lip, my entire body burning at hearing those words. I did as he asked, my heart hammering in my chest. The tips of his fingers brushed over my temple gently. “Thank you for marrying me.” My eyes widened at those words. I expected anything and everything, but not that. “I’ll be a good husband, I promise. I’ll make you happy.”
The sincerity in his gaze sent a shudder rolling through me. The gentleness of his touch had my skin burning desperately. I felt the wordsyou left me no choiceon my lips but couldn’t bring myself to say them. Gone was the cold man who stood in front of me with an offer I had no choice but to accept, given the situation. Gone was the man with such fierceness in his eyes, such bitterness. It was as though signing that marriage certificate had softened him and reminded him of the way we’d been that first night together.
