Chapter 8

eight

?. . .?

Ryan

My heart pounds as I adjust the fluffy white beard. The weight of the Santa suit feels oppressive, matching the heaviness in my chest. Children's excited squeals echo through the community center as I take my seat on the oversized red velvet throne.

"Ho ho ho!" I boom, forcing cheer into my voice. But inside, I'm drowning in guilt.

Anastasia appears, radiant in a green sweater that highlights her curves. Her smile outshines the twinkling lights as she directs families into neat lines. God, she's beautiful. And I'm lying to her with every breath.

"You're doing great," she whispers, squeezing my shoulder. The warmth of her touch spreads through me.

I nod, not trusting my voice. A little girl climbs onto my lap, rattling off her Christmas list. I listen attentively, but my eyes keep drifting to Anastasia. The way she laughs with parents, comforts crying toddlers. Her compassion knows no bounds.

She would make a great mother. A mother to our children. And suddenly I can see it so clearlly. A little girl with Anastasia’s eyes, her belly rounded with our second child. She and I cooking together in the kitchen.

My chest tightens. Fuck, I want that.

And then I remember that she could be pregnant with my child even now. A surge of possession rushes through me.

Mine .

Hours pass in a blur of candy canes and childish giggles, and all the while my eyes are glued on my woman.

Finally, we’re taking a short break while the other workers entertain the waiting families.

"Ryan," she says softly. "Can we talk?"

My stomach clenches. "Of course."

She takes a deep breath. "I...I think I'm falling for you."

The words I've longed to hear. And they cut like knives.

"You're kind and funny and so giving," she continues. "I've never met anyone like you."

If only she knew the truth. That I'm not who she thinks I am. That I've been deceiving her from the start.

I open my mouth to confess, but the words die on my tongue. I'm a coward.

Instead, I pull her close, breathing in her cinnamon scent. "Anastasia," I murmur. "I?—"

But I can't finish. Can't bear to shatter this perfect moment with my lies.

She deserves better. She deserves the truth.

And I'm terrified of losing her when she learns it.

So, instead, I grab Anastasia's hand, pulling her into the dimly lit backroom. My heart thunders as I press her against the wall, devouring her mouth. She moans, fingers tangling in my hair.

"God, I’m obsessed with you," I growl, nipping her plump lower lip. My hands roam her lush curves, squeezing her ass.

Anastasia arches into me. "Ryan," she pants. "We shouldn't—the event?—"

I silence her with another searing kiss. "Let me taste you, baby. Just for a minute."

She whimpers as I drop to my knees, pushing up her skirt. The scent of her arousal makes my mouth water. I drag my tongue along her thigh, inching higher.

I bury my face between her trembling thighs, lapping at her sweet nectar. Anastasia gasps, fingers tightening in my hair as I devour her slick folds. Her taste explodes on my tongue, intoxicating and addictive. Fuck, my baby is sweeter than a sugar cookie. I could spend eternity worshipping at this altar.

"Oh god, Ryan," she whimpers, hips undulating against my eager mouth. I grip her thighs, spreading her wider, thrusting my tongue deep inside her quivering channel. Her arousal coats my lips and chin. I groan in bliss.

My cock throbs, straining against my red velvet pants. But this is about her pleasure, not mine. I want to make her come apart, shatter in ecstasy.

I circle her swollen clit with the tip of my tongue before suckling the sensitive nub. Anastasia cries out, back arching off the wall. "Yes, yes! Don't stop!"

Her thighs clamp around my head as I flick my tongue faster, massaging her clit. She grinds against my face, chasing her pleasure. I can feel how close she is, inner muscles fluttering.

"Come for me, baby," I command, voice muffled. "Let go. I've got you."

With a keening moan, Anastasia shatters. Her sweet cream gushes into my mouth as she pulses and spasms. I lap up every drop, groaning at the exquisite taste of her release.

Slowly, her tremors subside. I place a tender kiss to her mound before rising to my feet. Anastasia sags against me, boneless and sated. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.

"That was...incredible," she murmurs dreamily, nuzzling my neck.

Pride surges through me. “I want to give you everything, baby.”

But our blissful moment is shattered by a sharp knock at the door. We spring apart, hastily adjusting rumpled clothing.

"Ryan? It's time for the big finale," one of the event coordinators calls.

"Be right there," I reply, voice gravelly.

Anastasia smooths her hair, cheeks flushed. "We should get back out there."

I nod, stealing one last passionate kiss. Then we exit the backroom, trying to look casual.

But my heart stops when I see who's waiting in the crowd. My assistant, Jenna, stands there, eyes wide with shock. And beside her...

"Ryan Caldwell?" Jenna's sister, a local gossip blogger, gapes at me. "The billionaire? What are you doing here?"

Anastasia stiffens, slowly turning to face me. Confusion and betrayal war in her beautiful green eyes.

"Billionaire?" she whispers, voice trembling. "Ryan, what is she talking about?"

I watch helplessly as Anastasia's warm green eyes dawn with comprehension and then hurt, her inviting smile replaced by a trembling frown. She steps back, her curves no longer pressed against me, leaving me aching with loss.

"You lied to me," she whispers, her voice cracking. "All this time..."

I reach for her, desperate. "Anastasia, please?—"

She jerks away, wrapping her arms around herself. "Don't touch me. How could you?"

My chest tightens. I've fucked up royally. "I wanted you to know the real me, not my name and anything you may have heard about the ruthless businessman."

Anastasia's laugh is bitter. "The real you? I don't even know who that is anymore."

I step closer, my voice low and urgent. "I'm still the same man who helped you hang Christmas lights. Who listened to you talk about your dreams. Who kisses you like you're the only woman in the world."

Her eyes flash. "That man wouldn't have lied to me."

"I love you, Ana," I confess, the words bursting from me. "I've never felt this way about anyone. I was scared?—"

"Scared?" she interrupts. "Try betrayed. That's how I feel right now."

My heart shatters. I've lost the only thing that truly matters—her trust.

Anastasia's auburn hair swings as she turns, each step widening the chasm between us. My body aches to follow, to gather her softness in my arms and never let go. But I'm frozen, shackled by the weight of my deception.

"Anastasia," I rasp, my voice raw. "Please."

She pauses, her shoulders rigid. When she faces me, her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "I need...time, Ryan. Space."

The sound of my name on her lips—once a caress, now a dagger. I swallow hard. "How long?"

"I don't know." Her voice wavers. "But we’ve still got an event to handle. You need to get on stage."

My mind races, desperate for the right words to fix this. But there are none. I've shattered something precious, and no amount of wealth can buy it back.

So I do the only thing I can and head onto stage. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let my fuck-up ruin’s Anastasia’s event.