Page 108 of The Reluctant Billionaire

We’ve drunk champagne and eaten lobster in the open air, surrounded by potted ancient olive trees and rambling roses. We’ve wished the happy couple well, and laughed with friends, and watched Aide and Theo have a dance-off to Rihanna’sWork,which was apparently played in tribute to Josh and Elle’s scorching hot dance floor meet-cute at the Cannes Film Festival.

It’s impossible to dance like that and not work up a heat, so Aide’s lost his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. His shirt’s open at the neck, showing off his cross, his tie’s hanging loose, his hair’s still oiled except for a couple of escapee strands over his forehead, and he looks so fucking hot that I could ride him here and now, in front of everyone.

He caught a little sun today as he passed out by the hotel pool after breakfast, and he’s bronzed and gorgeous. I may have dubbed him an all-man man when I met him in full Bruce-Willis-meets-Henry-Cavill glory that first day on site, but weirdly the black tie ensemble doesn’t remotely take the edge off his raw masculinity.

If anything, it makes it all the more stark. The perfectly cut shirt showcases those broad shoulders. The massive arms and the tapering waist. He’s still got his leather bracelets on. Those chunky rings still decorate his large workman’s hands. They’re a welcome reminder that the civility of tonight’s dress is a thin veneer.

Underneath, just like he promised me that first time in his office, it’s all the same. It’s allreal.

His blue eyes are fixed on me, and only me, as I cavort with Nora. The expression in them is nothing short of predatory. He hooks a strong arm around my waist and pulls me in towards him. I go willingly, planting my palms flat on his chest and gazing up at him adoringly. His hand slides down to my arse and he kneads it hard.

I’m expecting some veiled threat about what awaits me later in our suite.

What he plans to do to me when he gets me alone.

I’mnotexpecting the words that come out of his mouth when he puts it close to my ear.

‘Just warning you,’ he growls. ‘I want this for us someday, and I’m not planning to wait too long, okay?’ His breath is hot on my skin, but goosebumps erupt all the same.‘Because I’m not letting you go.’

There he is.

My very own caveman.

41

EPILOGUE - AIDE

Anoise from the bathroom has me surfacing from sleep. My knee-jerk reaction is to reach for my phone before I realise it’s Saturday.

Heaven.

My gaze snags on the black-and-white photo on my bedside table: Lotts and me on our wedding day. She’s a vision, obviously. I look like the happiest fucker who ever lived, and behind us, Lake Como sparkles. It never fails to put a smile on my face.

I collapse back on my pillows, folding my arms behind my head, and observe idly that my morning wood game is as strong as ever this morning. I very much hope my wife comes back to bed soon. The mere thought of her is enough for me to harden even more, but when she emerges from a cloud of steam, naked and wet-haired and holding a bottle of body lotion, my interest is instant.

‘Need some help?’ I ask, and she smiles seductively.

‘Definitely.’

Jesus, I am so royally fucked when it comes to this woman. I’m her slave. I am totally fucking useless around her. All I can do is marvel at her and be endlessly grateful that she comes home to me every night.

It seems I’m also good at putting babies in her.

I clamber over the bed towards her as she throws the bottle down onto the sheets and stretches, combing her fingers through her damp hair so she can pull it up into a big, messy bun on the top of her head. Happily, this affords me a fucking excellent view.

If I thought the version of Lotta I met two years ago was hot, this version of her is mind-blowing. Pregnancy has taken those curves that brought me to my knees at the community centre and put them on steroids. At eighteen weeks along, our baby girl has her stomach swollen into a perfect, smooth, bronzed bump.

Yeah. We’re having a girl.

A little baby girl who I just know will look exactly like her mother.

Told you I’m fucked.

And if Lotta’s bump has me obsessed, don’t get me started on her tits. They are a fucking miracle. They’ve grown three cup sizes already, and I cannot keep my hands off them. Her nipples are bigger, too, and slightly darker. They are quite simply the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

This time, we went bra shopping together. Lotts thought it would be hilarious to go to Harrods, given my experience there, so I humoured her.

Yeah, we saw Audrey again.

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