Page 54 of The Sculptor

But did she really conspire with Congressman Ford and Harrison Potter?

Did they really decide for us?

Did they sell our son for the sake of a predestined future?

I wouldn’t put anything past them.

But hope is a dangerous thing, and the last thing I want to do is put Ramsey through more than she’s already endured.

“Oh, Duke.” Ramsey’s voice pulls my gaze up to hers. “In no world will I ever not love you.” She leans down and kisses my mouth. “Whether we find Jude or not, my heart will always belong to you.”

Leaning over, she grabs the hotel pen from the nightstand and pushes me back against the pillow. “Is forever still enough for you, Dr. Potter?”

I nod, carefully watching her hand descend to my chest. I don’t need to see what she’s drawing. I know it’s my heart as soon as she finishes and places the pen in my hand, guiding it back to her chest.

“Claim our future,” she demands, “no matter what it is.”

And I do, drawing the same shitty heart I painted onto her chest years ago before throwing the pen to the floor and flipping her beneath me.

“Promise me,” I tell her, settling between her hips, “that you will not see Langston without me.”

I cut her a stern look—one that says I have no reservations about tying her ass up if need be. “You can stay in this fight, but you’re sitting this round out.”

She glares at me under her long lashes. “And if I don’t?”

Really, she doesn’t have a choice, but being the gentleman I am, I sheath my cock inside her for added clarification. “Then you better get used to my company.” I thrust forward so she knows I plan to keep her very busy.

“Are you threatening me with sex?” She laughs. “Spoiler alert, that’s more like a consolation prize.”

I grin, leaning down and sucking one deliciously pert nipple into my mouth. “Not sex, sweetheart—a honeymoon.”

Because I already set off the shitstorm of the century.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

Duke

Dear Congressman Albrecht,

You have something of ours, and if you want to keep his mother’s heartbreaking Christmas plea off the national news, I suggest you provide us with the documents sooner rather than later.

As you know, my wife and I love nothing more than a juicy scandal.

Merry Christmas,

Dr. and Mrs. Duke Potter

It is a straightforward email—one that I hope Langston will take seriously, considering he was likely standing at the altar, awkward and alone, while Ray and I were on a flight back to Texas, settling her into her new home. But since I’m not dealing with the most moral of men, I doubt embarrassment and threats will make much of an impact. Still, I hit send on the email all the same. Hopefully, with only a few days until Christmas, Langston will have plenty of time to catch up on his emails and figure out where the hell his fiancée is hiding.

It’s his move now.

And my move, apart from buying out the paint store and threatening Ray an obscene number of times to stay in the house, is to go to the office on the week we are closed for the holidays and ruin my brother’s Christmas.

Vance and most of the staff are here, catching up on filing and inventory before we close for the Christmas holidays. Vance might be a workaholic, but even he has a small amount of holiday spirit, which I’m hoping is more abundant today.

Because telling him I’m a married man will undoubtedly bring out the grinch.

Fortunately, I’ve been here for two hours and have yet to cross paths with Vance. He’s been suspiciously tied up in the operating room, counting “inventory” with Halle, per his unhelpful assistant, Remington.

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