Chapter 12

Damian

"Let's get you to bed," I murmur in Amelia's ear as she nearly falls asleep in the car on the way to my place from the restaurant. It's not a long drive, but she could probably fall asleep standing by the looks of it.

"I'm fine," she mutters, punctuated with a yawn. "It's been a long day."

"And that is exactly why you need to get into a bed, Mila girl. You are four months pregnant, and you're acting as if you should be expected to run a marathon."

I loop my arm around her waist as I open my front door, leading her into the foyer.

"Wrong shoes for that," she sighs. "And I'm not really much of a runner, other than running an entire company."

I laugh at the unexpected humor and lead her to sit on the edge of the bed. I kneel at her feet and slide her shoes off, brushing my fingers against her swollen ankles. "You need to stop wearing heels, you know? You might—"

"I know, I know. Varicose veins."

I frown. "What? I was going to say that you might lose your balance and hurt both yourself and the baby."

She waves her hand at me. "Why do you care anyway? This baby is nothing but a thorn in your side."

"When did I say that?" I hover around her and help her slide her dress over her head.

"You have to think it, though," Amelia says softly when her blonde tendrils fall back down around her face.

I chuckle and smooth her hair down before grabbing an oversized shirt from my closet that I normally use to work out in. "This baby may not be my doing, but I just know how much grief and pain you have already gone through in your life. I imagine losing this baby could…" I trail off, but there's a sudden look of pure heartache that crosses Amelia's features.

I rub my fingers over her forehead to smooth out the hurt there. "I just hope you know the full scale of what you're playing with. I don't want you hurt, and I don't want your baby hurt. It might not be my child, but I still care about them." I pull the shirt over her head before gesturing to her to lie down. "And their mother. Which means rest, and no high heels, and eating good food, and definitely no coffee or wine or fun things until this baby is out and safe, okay?"

She gives me a watery smile. "Okay," she breathes.

I tilt her face up to meet mine, and our lips press together. "Go to sleep, sweetheart."

She eyes me suspiciously. "You bought a very expensive bed for me to just sleep in?"

"No," I murmur. "But you need to sleep before I attempt to do what I did buy the very expensive bed for. You need energy."

Amelia's tired eyes flicker with life before she smirks. "I'd better sleep, then."

I kiss her again and head out to the kitchen. As a precaution, I get her a glass of water and a small box of crackers I find in my pantry, placing them on the nightstand. She's already asleep by the time I get there, her face soft and relaxed, probably for the first time since I met her.

I let her sleep, choosing instead to sit on the sofa with a glass of whisky and think back over the evening. Olivia was still distant with me after her and Amelia's discussion in the restroom. She reminds me too much of Amelia when she's at her most powerful, and I'm terrified of what she is able to do. I already know Amelia's faith in me is shaky at best, but how easily can it be swayed?

I sigh and check my phone before frowning at an email from a lawyer my mother hired for me.Mr. Garrett, Thought you might want to take a look at this. We can use it.Yours, Trevor

I click the attachments, and several collected emails come up, a signed contract of some kind, and a news article.

The news article is about the prospective location of an archeological study on the land Amelia's hotel is set to be on. The writer suggests that there are signs that it was once used for a Native American tribal court but was taken over and used as a burial ground a century later. By white Englishmen.

"Holy shit," I murmur.

There's an email exchange between Jeremy, the guy Amelia just fired, and, of course, Jackson Garrett.To: [emailprotected]From: [emailprotected]Jax,You might get some pushback on that new hotel site. Can you call your wife off of it?-JeremyTo: [emailprotected]From: [emailprotected]No. It has to be there. I'll stall her.To: [emailprotected]From: [emailprotected]Limit her access or something. I'll need to cancel the ecological surveys anyway, so we'll start there. They'll find bones, and we'll need to stop it before it gets that far. I'd suggest convincing her to abandon the site altogether. You can do that, can't you?To: [emailprotected]From: [emailprotected]You underestimate Amelia. We'll skirt around it. Distract Amelia with something else, and we'll figure out how to avoid doing the geological surveys at all. It worked for Thailand, right?

I put the phone down and try to imagine Jackson's tone of voice as he was writing these. He cancelled the surveys, agreed to cut corners in order to undercut the local tribes, authorities, and Amelia. So, who was he helping? It can't be Amelia because why wouldn't he tell her? It wasn't MVM, or the local tribes, or anyone connected to the hotel at all.

I read through the article again, confirming once again that it was only suggested for a burial ground, not a Native American burial ground at all.

I get a number up on my phone and hit call.

"Douglas Bright, at your service," he says, his voice purring over the phone line. "Why is a Garrett calling me close to midnight on a Saturday? You forget that I've had dreams of this."

I exhale a laugh. "I think we might have some similar interests."

"Now we're talking. Your place or mine?"

I laugh and take a sip of my drink. "You think we could have a conversation that might fly under the radar? Or, in particular, any Garrett family radar?"

"Mm… I'm sure we could."

"Good. Next Friday night. I'll come to Palm Springs. I have to be there anyway for my new restaurant opening."

"Saw that. It looks nice. As the only Garrett I can stand, I won't even be mean about the location that was stolen from a Bright property."

"A Bright proposed property."

"Now, now… you're stepping into my territory over here. Favorite Garrett or not, watch your step."

I chuckle. "I'll see you there."

"Fine by me."

He hangs up, and I purse my lips as I think about Amelia lying asleep in my bed. Am I being just as shady as Jackson was?

I put it out of my head, drain my glass, and decide I'll work out what's going on before saying anything to Amelia.

When I wake up the next morning, Amelia is still fast asleep next to me, her hand resting lightly on my arm, as if I might run away at any moment. She stirs as I do, running her hand across my chest and nestling in close before dozing off again.

"Morning, gorgeous," I murmur in her ear, pressing my lips to the side of her temple.

She tilts her lips up to mine, her eyes still closed, blearily trying to escape the clutches of sleep. She's surprisingly the one to deepen the kiss, sliding her tongue between my lips and meeting mine.

She's awake now, I can tell. Her hand trails up my neck and tangles in the hair on the back of my head, feeling the length. She hums at the back of her throat and twists her hips and tugs me closer, so that my morning erection is pressed up against the valley of her ass. Her lips move away from mine, and she spins all the way over, molding her body to fit mine. She reaches behind her to slide her hand into the underwear I wore to bed, and I grin against the skin of her neck. "You want something, baby?" I croon.

"Please," she whimpers softly. She rolls her hips back against me as I assist her with sliding my underwear down my legs. "Damian," she says, and I run my hand up her bare leg. I know she's saying my name purely to let us both know she's aware of who is behind her, but her saying my name this early on a Sunday morning is enough to get desire rolling through my veins.

"Good girl," I murmur as my fingers find her already wet and eager. She gives a little gasp as I slide in, but the feel of her gripping tight around my fingers is too much to bear for too long. "Fuck, sweetheart, you want this, don't you?"

"Mmm," she sighs as I slowly pulse my fingers in and out. Her hand over her hip finds me hard, and she lazily strokes me as I pick up the pace in her.

Amelia only allows it for a couple of minutes before she starts guiding me to replace my fingers with my cock. I shift further down on the bed to line us up better, and with one arm under her head and the other holding tight to her hip, I hold her close as I slide easily inside of her, both of us exhaling with pure need.

"That's so good," I mutter against her shoulder blade, my shirt still draped across her thin frame. I find her skin again, just below the back of her neck, whispering praises against it as I start rocking back and forth, lazily drawing myself to close before retreating. I want to give her a proper slow start to the morning, prioritizing rest, so I pause every now and again to trail my fingers under the shirt, over her small baby bump, up onto her full breasts, knowing they probably ache in preparation for her baby.

When her gasps start getting heavier and her groans louder, I prop myself up on my elbow, hold her at a better angle with her leg bent forward and bring her to an orgasm that is only seconds away from losing control of my own.

"Oh fuck, Mila," I groan as I still, holding her close. I bend down and press a kiss to the rise of her rib cage, now that it's revealed in my explorations.

Her blue eyes stare back at me before a lazy smile crosses her face. "I like the expensive bed," she murmurs.

I narrow my eyes as her grin widens. I settle next to her as she rolls over and kisses me softly.

"I meant because of the man that wakes me up so nicely is in it."

"Mm… sure." I kiss her again, reveling in the feeling of having her so relaxed and comfortable. "Now," I whisper, holding myself up on my hands and knees. "I'm going to go make breakfast. Are you okay at eating in the morning at the moment?"

"Yeah. Nothing too heavy, though."

I pull on a pair of underwear and a pair of old sweatpants before bracing myself on the headboard and smiling down at her. "The benefit of sleeping with a professional chef is that you get all the perks of restaurant quality food, while all you have to do is lie here and doze until it's ready."

Amelia hums and stretches out in bed. "Is that the only benefit?"

"For you? Probably." I chuckle and kiss her lightly. "You know where the bathroom is. You can have a shower if you like, but breakfast won't be long, and I want you to have as long a shower as you like, so you should wait until after."

She smiles and watches me walk to the doorway. "Why are you doing this?" she says so softly I nearly miss it.

"Doing what?"

"Spoiling me."

I exhale a laugh. "Sweetheart, if you think this is spoiling you, you'd hate to see if I was. I don't think you'd appreciate it if I tried to spoil you. You'd call me all sorts of names." I amble back over to her and crawl over the bed to hold myself above her. "But you deserve to be spoiled. You deserve to have everyone completely at your mercy, just the way you already have me." I press my lips to her forehead as she wraps her arms around my waist and tugs me down. "Everything you want, you can have."

She curls herself around me, and I hold her tight, a soft sigh escaping her lungs. "Then, for right now, can you just hold me?"

It's an almost silent request, but it's one that speaks volumes about her marriage. I stroke her hair, whisper gentle nothings in her ear, and let the strong, independent woman in her take a break for a moment.

And, not for the first time, I wonder if there's a universe where it can stay like this.