Page 42 of It Happened In Paris

Back in the quiet space of the hotel suite, we settled onto the couch to talk, side by side, our thighs touching.

“Are you nervous about the operation? I’ve never been under. I had Paris naturally—a grueling four-hour labor,” I inquired, and I laced our fingers together, giving his hand a squeeze.

He shifted sideways to me, his other hand caressing the back of my neck. “I regret missing out on so many moments, like watching your baby belly grow and talking to our baby in the womb. I know I might have dreaded seeing you in pain during labor, but when our baby was born, it would have been the proudest time of my life.” He exhaled deeply. “Yes, I’m nervous. Going under anesthesia always carries a risk. Speaking of which…” he trailed off.

“What is it? Tell me.” I gently cupped his face, the worry wearing there. He rarely showed vulnerability like this.

“Vivian, what if something happens to me on the table?” he confided. “The thought of losing you and Paris terrifies me. I want to tell her everything before the surgery, so she understands who her real father is—should anything go wrong.”

“Stop. Nothing bad will happen.” My stomach churned at the very idea of losing him or her, but he was right. Paris needed to be told the truth.

“There’s more. I also need to call Miriam. I’m her son, so she’s bound to want to be there for my surgery. We can’t keep the news that I’m Paris’ father from her, either.”

I chuckled and rolled my eyes at his practicality. “As a mother, I’d expect to be there, no matter what. And I know how much Miriam loves her boys; I saw it throughout the wedding. You’re right. I know we have to tell her.”

“Good. Thank you for understanding.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Now come here.”

I giggled as he lifted me onto his lap. “Big strong man. Showing off how you can handle me?”

“I’ll do more than that. I’ll take care of you in every way. Tell me what bills you have.”

“What?” I asked, shifting myself slightly from him in surprise.

“You and Paris will never have to struggle again. I swear it. Give me all your bills—expenses for the shop, anything you need. Whether it’s a remodel, an expansion, or that project you’ve always dreamed of; consider it done.”

“Richard, I can’t let you do that.”

His eyes studied my face in earnest. Then a smile grew slowly, ear to ear. “Every single time, you pass my test, Vivian.”

“Test? What do you mean?”

With tender fingers, he brushed through my hair. “My ex was only interested in my money. That made me wary of falling for anyone again. But here you are, and here I am, offering you my kidney, my unwavering devotion, all of my money—only for you to fuss about it. I practically have to coax you into accepting anything I want to give you. And that, my sweet little cupcake, means you’ve passed my test.”

He held my hands and squeezed. “Vivian, I’m falling for you.”

My heart melted at his sincerity. “Oh, Richard. I—” I started to echo him, but a deep-seated fear of repeating past mistakes held me back. Not that I thought he could be like Adrien and hurt me; it just wasn’t easy to trust again. Would I ever be able to let him in completely?

“It’s okay if you can’t say it yet, Vivian. I’ll wait for you. But while I do, know that I’m going to pay every bill of yours and spoil both you and Paris every chance I get. And you don’t have to keep thanking me. Just—find a way to fall for me, too. That’s all I want.”

Tears welled up again as the whirlwind of the week overpowered me. “Richard,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I never expected you to come into my life, but I’m so glad you did.”

“Me, too. God bless that beat-up van of yours for breaking down. I should have kept it after all, and gold plated that thing to keep around as a prized symbol of the second time we met.”

He had me in stitches with that.

“Oh, and cupcake? I have one more thing I’d like from you tonight.”

I smiled sweetly. “What could that be?” I teased, even though a playful hint in his demeanor suggested it was something more intimate—and I could feel it growing in his pants.

“I want to kiss you… Want to make love with you… Want to hear you come with my name on your lips…” He nuzzled my neck and softly grazed my earlobe, sending delightful shivers along my skin.

“I’m not stopping you from taking what you want,” I moaned, and probably never would. Talk about spoiled—the billionaire was used to getting his way.

“You’re mine, good girl.” He stood and carried me off to bed, laying me out gently, taking my breath away by the intensity of his eyes gazing deep into mine the entire way. “There my sweet. Did I fulfill my promise, doubling down on the suave moves?” He asked with a smoldering gaze while undressing me.

“Oh yes, Mr. Buchanan. You did very well.” All night long, I surrendered myself to him—believing each thrust of his cock like a fierce vow of loyalty for me, each passionate kiss a plea that we’d never let each other go.

17

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