Page 13 of Summoned by the CEO (Curvy for Keeps)

“Sorry, interim what of what?” I mumble.

“Oh, I thought you told her,” says the lawyer, glancing at Archer and then back at me.

“You can tell her. My jaw hurts too much from smiling,” Archer says through a grin that I know he’s paying for with pain.

The lawyer clears his throat and glances at the papers again. “Well, Miss—I mean Mrs. Archer. When you briefly stepped out of the room to freshen up before the um, wedding, Mister Archer told me that once you two were married, you would become an equal owner of Archer Industries. A co-CEO, if you will. And since Mister Archer is currently indisposed, you are in charge of Archer Industries.” He pauses a moment, looks up at me with a gleam in his eye, and then nods with real respect. “You’re the boss now, Angie. You’re the boss.”

10

ONE YEAR LATER

ANGIE

“I guess I’m not the boss when it comes to feeding time,” I say to my hungry twin daughters Abby and Ada as they claw at my milk-laden boobs, latching on to my nipples that have been bitten red and raw—and not just from baby-mouths.

“Chill out a little, big-shot CEO,” drawls Archer from his hammock hanging over the black marble porch of our sleek, modern mansion just outside of town. He’s shirtless, and I sigh when I see the scars and stitches that are faded but will never go away.

Other than that Archer is mostly healed, though, and I thank the heavens every day for that. Among other things, of course—my healthy (and hungry) twin girls topping that list of wonderful things in my life that really is a fairy-tale now.

A modern-day fairy-tale, of course. One in which the secretary is now the boss and the boss is half-naked in a hammock, relaxed and grinning because he hasn’t stepped into the office in three months.

Not since our girls were born.

“Easy for you to say, Stay-at-Home Dad,” I shoot back. “You know, your carefully cultivated reputation as the devil himself is taking a serous hit now that it turns out you’re a father to two perfect angels. Ouch! Hey! Ease up on Mommy’s boobs, Abby! You too, Ada!”

“That’s my girl, Abby! Bite harder, Ada!” Archer yells, clapping his hands and almost falling out of the hammock. Then he lowers his sunglasses and looks at my exposed cleavage, licks his lips at the milk oozing down my heavy breasts. “But leave some for Daddy, all right, girls? Daddy needs some too. Daddy needs a lot.”

“Daddy needs to dial it back before his girls are old enough to realize that he’s a pervert,” I scold, blinking as I see Archer’s cock peak his loose silk pajamas. I know what’s coming after the girls are done feeding.

Yes, I know what’s coming.

I know that even though Archer has diverted his energy and drive into enjoying fatherhood, raising his girls as he rehabs from his accident, he’s still that alpha beast who yearns to dominate, he’s still that arrogant CEO who summoned me to his office and declared I was his, his alone, his always, his forever.

And Iamhis.

I alwayswashis.

And this was always forever, even when I walked away.

?

EPILOGUE

FORTY YEARS LATER

ANGIE

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” comes his voice from the living room, where the entire Archer clan was gathered just an hour earlier before everyone called it a night. All nine of our children, and another twelve oftheirchildren! God, talk about exponential expansion!

Archer’s in the TV-alcove off to the side of the main room, and I can see him fumbling with what looks like an old-fashioned gizmo of some sort. I sigh and walk over to him—slowly, of course. My legs don’t work like they used to. My hips creak a little after birthing all those kids—not to mention handling the incessant sex drive of my man who seems to age everywhere but between his legs. Thank heavens for small mercies.

“Orbigmercies,” I mutter when I see the way his trousers are tented, see the look in his green eyes that haven’t lost that sparkle as we travelled down the twisted path of our fate, followed our destiny through forty years of ups and downs, twists and turns, laughter and sorrow. “What on earth are you doing with the TV, Archer? What is that thing in your hand?”

Archer raises a gray eyebrow and glances down at his erection. “In the old days we called it a cock. And it’s not in my hand. Though itwillbe in your mouth soon, if I have my way.”

I gasp and snort at the same time, looking around to make sure the kids didn’t hear. Of course, they’ve heard worse over the years. Maybe that’s why all our kids are so comfortable with sex, with the simple truth that sex within a loving relationship has no boundaries, can take the lovers to places that love alone can’t, that sex is a healthy part of love, an important part of love.

I shake my head as I think back forty years, to the day I stood outside the CEO’s dark office, shivering like a little girl. I think about how I’d considered myself a non-sexual person until the moment I walked through that door, entered his presence, the presence of the man I was meant to be with, a man who showed me who I was, what I was capable of being.

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