Just carrying a million dollars around is exhausting. Paying my mother's ransom was a relief but I had too much time to think about Tristan on that ferry ride. He was more than I had dared hope for and less than I deserved.
I underestimated his power and didn't give him nearly enough credit for determination. He had me on his jet again, flying high and wanting him. Consequences be damned.
Who could be prepared for what he had to say? I wasn't going to hold him to the promise he intended to keep. When he opened the heavy door to his heart we both knew it would change what we had. Trouble is, I still didn't have a word for what it is we had.
Our bodies tended to do all the talking. Sometimes, it seemed to me there wasn't much left to say.
This final part of the Year of the Billionaire is meant to be read following part 1, "Knowing His Secret" and part 2 "Taking His Risk". Both are available on Amazon. This work is a novella of approximately 33,000 words. It is an adult romance with a five chili heat rating and intended only for readers over 18.Genre: FICTION / Romance / General
Currently under 20K in Amazon ranking.
My shoes felt like they were made of lead as I climbed the steps to our front door. I was suddenly utterly drained. Dazed by the ordeal of pushing a million dollars under a ferry seat, I numbly recognized that it wasn't over yet. Still, I wanted to go up to my childhood room and pull the covers over my head like I used to do when I was eight years old. Everyone knows nothing can harm you when the covers are pulled up all the way.
Tristan was waiting for me when I reached the top of the flight. He gathered me into his arms and I wept quietly onto his strong chest. In spite of everything, the warmth and the scent of him was as much of a homecoming as standing at my parents' door.
"It's okay, now. It's done. We won't have to wait long, I know it." His words sounded so sure. As he enveloped me in his embrace, I wanted to believe him. More than anything I wanted to accept that if he said it, it must be so. He kissed my throbbing temples and pressed his lips to my forehead before we joined my father and the entourage of cops, plainclothes agents, bodyguards and private eyes all waiting for the safe return of my mother, Marjorie Harding, beloved wife and cherished mother.
Tristan was right, again and as usual. Mom trundled up the steps a few short minutes after I got home. I think everyone was a little surprised. They must have held her somewhere close to the house. I watched her fall into my father's arms to cry and be cradled much as I had done with Tristan just moments before. The similarity made me inexplicably sad.
Already translated. Translated by Alejandra Atala
Excited to have my series in Spanish and would love to work with Alejandra again.