Page 44 of Kinks of a Billionaire
Byron: For fuck’s sake, Royce. We don’t need to stir shit with the Harris family. Not after what happened with Winston.
A frown touched my face. He was referring to the manner of our father’s death—to the way he died. We needed to keep the media away from the Ashfords, not draw attention. But there was no way it could have been avoided, not with Willow’s engagement to Stuart and his family’s connections.
Byron: When is your honeymoon ending?
My fingers drummed an absentminded rhythm on the desk.
Me: In a few weeks or so.
I was playing it by ear, but for now, I knew it was best to keep away from prying eyes—and any country with loose extradition laws. Stuart knew better than to go to the police, but unfortunately his parents didn’t. And with their connections, they could cause some serious damage. In fact, from the sounds of it, they were doing it already.
Ha, kidnapped.As if I’d ever cause distress to Willow. That was Stuart’s forte, not mine.
So Willow and I would remain off-grid for a bit. We’d try to remain on the boat, at least until Willow’s bruises completely disappeared. To avoid causing Willow additional stress after what she endured, I’d keep her in the dark until this situation was resolved.
When things were back to some version of normal, we’d go back home—wherever that might be. Willow was close to herparents, so Portugal might be it for us, especially since my siblings had relocated to Europe too.
“Yeah, things are great,” I muttered under my breath. Aside from the fact that I was constantly fighting the urge to fuck her. I pushed a hand through my hair, flicking a glance at the clock. It was ten a.m. and Willow was still fast asleep. She needed it, and granted, we’d been staying up late.
Last night we played Monopoly, and it turned out there were things I didn’t know about my new wife after all. She was an extremely sore loser. After I’d taken all her properties, she tried crying, claiming foul play, and thenaccidentallyknocked over the board.
It was an unattractive trait in everyone but Willow. She was cute as fuck when she pouted.
The phone buzzed again.
Byron: Let me know when you figure it out. The press will learn of your marriage today. I still want to know how in the hell you and Willow happened.
I ignored his message. It wasn’t as if the Ashford brothers were known for disclosing our objects of desire.
Anyhow, another few weeks on this boat might work out for the best. The frenzy would settle by the time we disembarked. Hopefully.
I turned my phone off and continued working. I had a business to run, a wife to feed and entertain. My brother and his twenty questions would have to wait.
It wasn’t long before a knock shattered the silence and I flicked my gaze up to find the only other passenger on the catamaran, and fuck was she a sight to behold. Wild hair. Sleepy expression. I dragged my gaze down her tank top to the shortsthat clung to her hips and thighs, exposing her smooth, golden legs. She was barefoot, as per usual, and her nails looked freshly painted.
“Come in.”
Willow entered, stifling a yawn. “I can’t believe I slept in so long.”
“You’re growing a life,” I pointed out. “It’s hard work.”
I watched, mesmerized, as a light blush crept up her neck. I wondered if her skin would turn pink like that when I—no. I wouldn’t be going there again, not unless I wanted to walk around all day sporting a hard-on.
She took a seat in front of me and attempted to comb her fingers through her hair. “Honestly, I still can’t believe it.”
“You have to be a bit more specific. Believe what?”
She leaned back in the chair, her eyes meeting mine as she rubbed her flat stomach. “That I’m pregnant. That we’re married. That we’re in the middle of the ocean. Take your pick.”
I interlocked my fingers behind my head.
“Not a dream come true?” I asked coolly, the thought of her being unhappy sending a surge of irritation through me.
“Uh, well…” Willow ran a hand over her belly, a sheepish look crossing her face. “It’s definitely not the normal way things are done.”
A dark flame kindled in my chest before I smothered it.
“I told you already, fuck normal,” I retorted dryly. She studied me, and I lost myself in wondering whether her eyes would be more green or blue in the throes of an orgasm.
