HIS: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (Part One) by Glenna Sinclair Page A
Authors: Glenna Sinclair
Ads: Link
Nicolas.
I slid out of the car the moment it came to a stop in the circle drive. Nicolas rushed around to my side, taking my arm and pulling me hard against his side.
“Don’t go wandering off without me, please.”
“I’m just walking to the door.”
“The paparazzi are everywhere,” he said, gesturing with his chin toward a low section of the wrought iron fence along the side of the property. I could just barely see the flash of a camera’s flash. “I don’t want them getting a clear picture of your face. Then your name will be all over the tabloids first thing in the morning and you’ll never be able to go anywhere on your own again.”
I glanced at him, but I didn’t say anything. The thing was, I was pretty sure he was right. And that was a little frightening.
He guided me up to the front door, careful to stand between me and the paparazzi in the bushes. Once inside, he let go of me like I was a hot potato or something.
“Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing toward the living room at the back of the house. “Constance should have made up a room for you. I told her to put you in the front guest room.” He gestured toward the stairs. “It’s the second door on the left at the top of the stairs. Right next to the master.”
“Afraid I’ll sneak out in the middle of the night?” I asked, only half serious.
“Yes.”
And then he disappeared, walking down the hallway that shot off from the entry way and around the side of the grand staircase.
I went into the living room and took a water bottle from the mini-fridge in the bar. As I stood there, sipping from the bottle, I remembered how Nicolas had stood here that night months ago, drinking a huge slug of brandy from a thick crystal glass. And then I looked at the long, white couch and remembered how Aurora sat beside me the day she told me that she wanted me to be her surrogate. This wasn’t even my house, yet I had so many memories here. It was a little surreal.
I wandered to the back doors—gorgeous French doors that looked out on a huge, well-tended garden. There were low bushes, beautiful trees, and roses everywhere. I found myself imagining a little girl running around out there, her father lifting her in the air and spinning her around as she laughed down into his face. This was the kind of place where a child would have an idyllic childhood. I touched my belly lightly.
“You are a lucky one,” I said to the baby nestled inside.
“ Mija ?”
I turned and cried out at the sight of Constance. I ran to her and threw my arms around her neck, so grateful to see someone I knew, someone I loved and whom I knew loved me back, that I was overwhelmed with emotion. I pressed my face to her neck and sobbed almost like I had on Nicolas’ shoulder the day before. The difference was, I knew Constance wouldn’t judge me and she wouldn’t play on my vulnerabilities to get me to do something I shouldn’t.
“How are you, nina ?”
I shrugged. “I miss mi madre .”
“I know, mija , I know. I miss her, too.”
She pulled me close and kissed my forehead. “But she’s okay. You know that. She’s looking down on us, and she’s so proud.”
I shook my head, more tears falling from my eyes. “She would be ashamed of me. Of what I’ve done.”
“No.” Constance touched my belly lightly. “She would be happy to see you bringing life into the world. And this child is even more special because she comes from you.”
“You don’t know.”
“Don’t tell me no sabe , nina ,” Constance said. “You may not believe it, but ya se. ”
If I’d learned anything growing up with a single mom and a woman like Constance, it was that you didn’t argue with a woman who said she knew what she was talking about. So I just nodded, trying in vain to stall the flow of tears.
“ Te amo ,” she whispered against my ear. “Everything will be okay.”
I wanted to believe her, but then I saw Nicolas watching us from the hallway. I
I slid out of the car the moment it came to a stop in the circle drive. Nicolas rushed around to my side, taking my arm and pulling me hard against his side.
“Don’t go wandering off without me, please.”
“I’m just walking to the door.”
“The paparazzi are everywhere,” he said, gesturing with his chin toward a low section of the wrought iron fence along the side of the property. I could just barely see the flash of a camera’s flash. “I don’t want them getting a clear picture of your face. Then your name will be all over the tabloids first thing in the morning and you’ll never be able to go anywhere on your own again.”
I glanced at him, but I didn’t say anything. The thing was, I was pretty sure he was right. And that was a little frightening.
He guided me up to the front door, careful to stand between me and the paparazzi in the bushes. Once inside, he let go of me like I was a hot potato or something.
“Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing toward the living room at the back of the house. “Constance should have made up a room for you. I told her to put you in the front guest room.” He gestured toward the stairs. “It’s the second door on the left at the top of the stairs. Right next to the master.”
“Afraid I’ll sneak out in the middle of the night?” I asked, only half serious.
“Yes.”
And then he disappeared, walking down the hallway that shot off from the entry way and around the side of the grand staircase.
I went into the living room and took a water bottle from the mini-fridge in the bar. As I stood there, sipping from the bottle, I remembered how Nicolas had stood here that night months ago, drinking a huge slug of brandy from a thick crystal glass. And then I looked at the long, white couch and remembered how Aurora sat beside me the day she told me that she wanted me to be her surrogate. This wasn’t even my house, yet I had so many memories here. It was a little surreal.
I wandered to the back doors—gorgeous French doors that looked out on a huge, well-tended garden. There were low bushes, beautiful trees, and roses everywhere. I found myself imagining a little girl running around out there, her father lifting her in the air and spinning her around as she laughed down into his face. This was the kind of place where a child would have an idyllic childhood. I touched my belly lightly.
“You are a lucky one,” I said to the baby nestled inside.
“ Mija ?”
I turned and cried out at the sight of Constance. I ran to her and threw my arms around her neck, so grateful to see someone I knew, someone I loved and whom I knew loved me back, that I was overwhelmed with emotion. I pressed my face to her neck and sobbed almost like I had on Nicolas’ shoulder the day before. The difference was, I knew Constance wouldn’t judge me and she wouldn’t play on my vulnerabilities to get me to do something I shouldn’t.
“How are you, nina ?”
I shrugged. “I miss mi madre .”
“I know, mija , I know. I miss her, too.”
She pulled me close and kissed my forehead. “But she’s okay. You know that. She’s looking down on us, and she’s so proud.”
I shook my head, more tears falling from my eyes. “She would be ashamed of me. Of what I’ve done.”
“No.” Constance touched my belly lightly. “She would be happy to see you bringing life into the world. And this child is even more special because she comes from you.”
“You don’t know.”
“Don’t tell me no sabe , nina ,” Constance said. “You may not believe it, but ya se. ”
If I’d learned anything growing up with a single mom and a woman like Constance, it was that you didn’t argue with a woman who said she knew what she was talking about. So I just nodded, trying in vain to stall the flow of tears.
“ Te amo ,” she whispered against my ear. “Everything will be okay.”
I wanted to believe her, but then I saw Nicolas watching us from the hallway. I
Similar Books
