Chapter 54

54

Eight months later

Zara

"I promise to serve the country with integrity, humility and compassion. I promise to do my best for my country and for you who voted me in. I will deliver on the promises I made to you during my election campaign." The newly elected Prime Minister of the country, who also happens to be my husband, glances about the crowd. "There will be challenges, of course, but I am not daunted. I hope to live up to the demands of my office and deliver on the trust you have placed in me. I stand here before you, ready to lead our country into the future. To put your needs above politics. Together, we can achieve incredible things. We will create a future worthy of the sacrifices so many have made, and fill tomorrow, and every day thereafter, with hope. Thank you."

He moves away from the podium and holds out his hand. I walk over to him, balancing the weight of my swollen belly.

It’s been eight months to the day we got married.

Eight months, during which time, I worked side by side with him, campaigning across the country. I continued on as the Head of his PR strategy, until the day he won the elections. At which point, I sold my PR agency to Kate. It was a difficult decision, but the right one. No one knows more than me how all-consuming taking on the leadership role of this country will be. Being married to the Prime Minister means any client I took on would come under a lot of scrutiny. And while I wouldn’t be doing anything wrong in holding down a separate job, it could present a conflict of interest with the office my husband holds. So, I decided to make a clean break and embrace my role as the First Lady of the country. I also accepted Hunter’s offer of launching a project aimed at looking after the interests of women, the vulnerable, and children with additional needs. That’s my passion, and it feels right to use my energy to help those who are weaker.

And all the time we were on the campaign trail, the child I carry in my belly has grown. By now, I’m massive. I should hate just how big I am, but every time I see my stomach, I feel this huge rush of tenderness. This big gush of love that makes my heart swell until I’m sure it’s bigger than my stomach.

I promised him I’d hold out until after he was sworn in. Now, as we pose for pictures, he has one arm around me, and the other over my belly. Our wedding and my pregnancy raised a lot of media speculation, but the voters embraced us. Many of the journalists lauded my courage for coming forward with my teen pregnancy and subsequent loss. Of course, there were those who called me unfit to be the wife of the future leader of the country, but overall, the feedback was supportive. Most of the media were excited about our child, and from the time I first made my appearance at Hunter’s side, I’ve been inundated with good wishes.

I’d like to think our child has brought in a rush of good fortune for us, one that paved the way for Hunter to take on the responsibility of being the leader of the country. I smile and wave at the journalists calling to us to pose for them. This goes on for too many minutes. I’d managed to squeeze my swollen feet into heels, and now I’m regretting it.

Sensing my discomfort, Hunter gives a final nod toward the news people. Then, he scoops me up in his arms. Instantly, flashlights go off behind us as the journalists rush to capture the moment.

“Whoa, Hunter, what are you doing?” I gasp.

“Carrying my wife over the threshold, of course.” He walks inside 10 Downing Street, and his aides come forward to greet us.

Heat flushes my cheeks and I turn my face into his shoulder. “I think you should put me down now,” I say in a muffled tone.

“When I’m ready.”

“Hunter, please.” I half-laugh, then glance up at him. “Why am I not surprised by your over-the-top gesture?”

“Because you love me?” He smirks.

“That I do, Mr. Prime Minister, so very much.”

His features soften. He bends and captures my lips. The kiss is soft and sweet, and firm, and so very hot. I lean into it, open my mouth, and he nips on my lower lip. He deepens the kiss, and that familiar weakness invades my limbs.

Someone clears their throat, and I stiffen. Hunter kisses me for a few seconds more. By the time he raises his head, I’m flushed and my breathing is erratic.

He surveys my features, then nods. "You going to be okay?"

“I’m more than okay as long as I have you by my side.”

“You have me baby, always and forever. I love you so very much.” He kisses my forehead, then lowers me to my feet.

I take a step back, then nod toward his team. "Go on, your country needs you.”

"You always come first, Fire." He searches my features. "You sure you’re going to be okay?"

A twinge tugs on my lower belly. I resist the urge to rub my stomach, then nod. "You know I am."

"Hmph." He holds my gaze for a second longer, then bends and kisses me on the lips again, before turning to speak to the assembled people.

I fall back to watch as they line up to speak with him. He shakes each person’s hand, giving them his full attention. The full impact of those magnetic blue-green eyes that change with his moods. The country may have his attention now, but I’ll have his attention always. I’ll have to share him with the world for as long as he’s Prime Minister, and probably longer, since he’s going to be in some form of public service for most of his life; but I have no doubt, he’ll always place me and our family first.

Another spasm squeezes my belly, this time, with enough force that I gasp. I glance around, but no one has noticed me. For once, it pays not to be the center of attention. Hunter is probably the only one I wouldn’t begrudge that. After all, I got into PR not only because I like building up the media profile of my clients, but also because I’m an attention whore. The most satisfying time of my life was the last few months, not only because I got to spend so much time with Hunter on the campaign trail, but also because there was a personal connection to the work I was doing. Of course, I gave my best to every client, but with Hunter, I put everything of myself into the PR for his campaign.

I wanted him…needed him to win. I had gotten to know the man behind the public facade, and it was clear to me he would do his best for the country. He has the vision for a future that he will try his best to make happen. More than that, he’s genuine and loyal and wanted to use his intelligence and everything he has at his disposal to create a better future for the newer generation.

Sure, he comes from a moneyed background, but it is precisely that which made him selfless. For so long, I held his money and his privilege against him. I judged him, and by doing so, I was guilty of the same kind of mistake that I’ve berated others for when they’ve tried to pigeonhole me. I can’t be put into a neat category, and neither can Hunter. We’re both complex individuals, with many facets to our personalities. Our backgrounds are only one of them.

Now, I realize I was too quick to form an opinion of him when we first met, but Hunter has completely overthrown any preconceived notions I might have had about him. I know now that he’s the most tender, most possessive, most protective man I’ll ever meet. I also know he’s willing to cross the line between right and wrong to take care of me. Perhaps that should bother me, but somehow, I can’t hold it against him. The shades of grey to his personality only make him so much more interesting. Am I worried that it will spill over into his professional life? No, because it’s only me who brings out that part of his personality.

A third stab of pain cramps the entire lower half of my stomach. The pain is so hard, it’s as if I’ve been buffeted by a wave. I gasp and bend over. Simultaneously, liquid gushes out from between my legs and pools about my feet. I glance down at my now-drenched skirt in horror. I look up to find Hunter has turned toward me. He takes in my stance, and the way I’m gripping my sides. I straighten, draw in a deep breath. In two bounds, he reaches me and sweeps me up in his arms, again.

"Hunter, what are you doing? You’ll dirty your suit."

"Fuck that, I’m taking you to the hospital."

To say the next few hours were dramatic would be putting it mildly. He asked for the Prime Ministerial car—a massive Jaguar Sentinel—to be brought around the rear entrance. He placed me in the back seat, followed me in, and ordered the driver to take us to hospital. The security vehicle in front flipped on its siren, and I knew we were being followed by another vehicle. Two other members of his protection team on bikes flanked us, and we reached the hospital in under ten minutes.

He insisted on carrying me out of the car and into the emergency room, where we were instantly waved through. He held onto me until the doctors insisted he place me on a bed so they could examine me. They pronounced I was six centimeters dilated, and that we had time for the baby to come. That was ten hours ago.

I’ve spent the time alternating between the agony of the labor pains and the times in between when I’ve gathered my energy for the next push. And through it all, he’s held my hand, fed me ice chips, and wiped the sweat from my forehead. He didn’t even blink when I cursed him soundly for putting me in this position.

Karma and Summer, followed by Isla and Abby, popped their heads around to let me know they were waiting with me. I told them to go home—it could be hours still, before the baby was born—but they refused. My brother’s away on another cricket tour, but Abby mentioned she messaged him, and he’s on his way back.

I glance at Hunter’s face as he sprawls back in the chair next to my bed.

"You should go get a coffee."

"Not a chance," he growls.

"It could be some more time before—" I wince.

He leans forward, concern in his eyes. "You okay?"

I breathe through that now familiar pain traveling up my spine. Only this time, it builds and builds until it’s like a wall that’s pushing into me, shoving into me, cutting through me. I gasp, and must scream; perhaps, even black out a little. When I open my eyes, Hunter’s features are pale. The shadows under his eyes are pronounced, and there’s a drop of blood on his lower lip. "You hurt yourself, did you bite down on your lip?"

He opens his mouth, then closes it. "I’m never putting you through this again." His voice is hoarse.

"Famous last words." I laugh, then gasp again when the pain begins to build once more. "Oh, no, no, no, that’s too close."

His gaze widens. He reaches for the switch next to the bed. "I’m calling the midwife."

"He’s gorgeous." Hunter’s warm voice cocoons me like a balm.

After he called the midwife, it took another three hours for the baby to emerge screaming into the world. I was shattered, numb, and shell-shocked. My entire body feels like it was put through a concrete mixer. My insides felt like they were torn out…which, in a way, they were, I suppose. And then, the midwife placed the baby over my chest.

I touch his little nose, take in his eyelashes, the little snub nose, those pink lips, and I fall head-over-heels in love… For the third time in my life. I hold him, and a tsunami of love fills every fiber of my being. I miss Olly so much. He would have loved his younger brother.

I’ve been given a second chance with this little boy, and I’m going to do everything in my power not to screw it up. The tears slide out of the corners of my eyes. I’m unable to stop them as I gaze at my son. Hunter wraps his arm about me and pulls me into his chest, and that only makes me sob more. Then, the baby opens his eyes and looks at me; my breath catches in my chest, and I nearly swoon. Blue-green eyes. Hunter’s eyes look back at me, and I fall for my husband and my son all over again.

When the doctor places my son at my breast for his first feeding, he latches onto my breast with only a little coaxing. The sensation of him suckling at my breast brings forth a fresh round of tears. Hunter holds me until the sobs subside, and my son falls asleep while feeding. I carefully wipe his mouth, pull my hospital gown shut, and both of us stare at the wonder we created.

A buzzing sound fills the room. Hunter ignores it. It stops, then starts again. "I think you should get that," I murmur.

"If I do, it means I’ll have to go back to my responsibilities." His eyebrows draw down.

"You can’t keep putting it off." I shoot him a sideways glance. His hair is mussed, his shirt creased. A day’s growth of stubble shadows his cheeks. He looks crumpled and tired, and so damn delicious.

"You’re beautiful, Mr. Prime Minister."

He chuckles. "You, calling me by that name, in that husky voice of yours, might become my new ki— thing," he corrects himself.

"Glad to see you’re managing to hold back your four-letter words."

The buzzing of his phone fills the room again. "You really need to get that, Hunter."

"I never should have turned on my phone, is what I should have done." He peers into my face. "I’ll never forget what you did for me, for our family. You are the bravest, most courageous person I’ve ever met. I’m honored you became my wife. I thank the powers that be for the day our paths crossed. If I’m born again, Fire, I hope you’ll do the honor of being my wife in that life, and in all our future life’s together."

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. I swallow down the lump of emotion that squeezes my throat. "Stop, you’re going to make me cry again."

"Don’t cry, baby. This is your time to be happy." He leans in and kisses my forehead.

"Oh, hope I’m not interrupting?"

We glance up to find Abby lurking in the doorway of the room. "I could come back." She turns as if to leave.

"You’re not interrupting." Hunter rises to his feet. "Actually, I’d be reassured if you kept Zara company while I make a few calls."

With a last glance at me, he prowls out.

"Come on in." I gesture to the girl. She walks over with a big bunch of flowers that she places on a table already overflowing with bouquets and toys. "Wow, this room smells like a garden," she exclaims.

"All of the Seven and their wives have sent me flowers and toys for the baby," I murmur.

"You mean the Seven who run the 7A company?—"

"Yes, and the Sovranos."

Her gaze widens. "The Sovranos, as in, the Italian Mafia?"

"As in the Cosa Nostra," I nod.

Her eyes grow even bigger. "Aren’t they criminals, of sorts?" she whispers.

"Doesn’t everyone have skeletons in their closet?" I retort.

She flushes a little, glances away, then back at me. Huh? That was a guilty look, if ever there was one.

"You’re not good at hiding your thoughts, are you?"

Her cheeks grow brighter, if that’s possible. "It’s the curse of having such fair skin."

"Or a pure mind." I half-smile. "It’s okay to be innocent. In fact, it’s preferable one retains a core of innocence at heart. Just don’t be naive when it comes to making decisions, okay?"

She nods. "Thanks, Zara, I really appreciate you taking me under your wing."

"You’ve more than pulled your weight over the past few months on the campaign. Without your efforts, my husband couldn’t have been elected Prime Minister."

She hunches her shoulders. "Th-thank you so much."

"Raise your chin."

"Eh?" She blinks.

"Raise your chin, girl, and accept the praise. Own it like a mother—ducking—fitch." I stumble over my words. Guess Hunter’s not the only one who has to watch his language around the little ears.

Abby laughs. Then peeks down at the little bundle in my arms. "He’s sooo small."

"He didn’t feel that small when I pushed him out of my va—a—ah—ina. You know what I mean?"

"Jesus, that’s too much information," a new voice declares.

I glance up to see my brother inside the doorway. His familiar features wear an unfamiliar, uncomfortable expression.

"You’re perfectly aware of how the birthing process takes place," I scold him.

"Yes, but so far, births and anything to do with them have only been a concept. Just like the fact you’re a mother now is something I’m still getting my head around."

He walks over to stand on the side of the bed opposite Abby. In his hands, he’s holding one pink and one blue balloon, which say ‘baby boy’ and ‘baby girl,’ respectively.

"Covering all my bases," he explains to me, then glances down at the baby. "Wow, you really are a mom."

"And you’re an uncle."

Cade’s face lights up. He thrusts out his chest, pulls back his shoulders, and folds his arms across his chest. "I can’t wait to teach him how to play cricket."

"Would you like to hold him first?"

Cade looks alarmed. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Umm. He’s too fragile. Maybe when he’s a little older?" Then he takes a step back to punctuate his words. The balloons flutter above him. "I guess I should tie these somewhere?" He pivots and crosses the room to one of the chairs, then ties them to the back. Apparently, it’s going to take my brother a little longer to be completely comfortable with the idea of holding his nephew.

"Oh, now I realize what’s wrong, the pink says baby boy," Abby explains.

"I’m aware." Cade spins around, then walks back to take his place on the side of the bed opposite her; this time, putting more distance between the bed and himself.

"Shouldn’t it… I mean… Shouldn’t it be the other way around…?" Abby chews on her lower lip, and I notice my brother’s shoulders tense. His gaze is fixed on her mouth, and there’s a look of something I can only define as lust in his eyes. Talk about TMI.

I clear my throat, and my brother seems to snap out of his reverie.

"Who am I coming to visit, hmm?" He addresses his question to Abby.

"You’re coming to visit Zara." She frowns.

"Who is…?"

"Your sister?" she replies hesitantly.

"And?"

"Uh, she’s very much a feminist, a strong woman, ah—" Her brow clears. "I get it now. You were making a statement that you knew she’d approve of."

My brother smirks. "You’re smarter than you look."

Abby’s lips firms. "And you’re not as dumb as you look, either."

My brother blinks. "Dumb? Did you just call me dumb?"

"You know what they say, when you have a good-looking face, chances are good, there’s nothing between the ears."

Cade’s jaw hangs open, then he chuckles. "Very good."

"You talk as if you didn’t think I could hold my own in a conversation." Abby huffs.

"Oh, I’m sure you can. If not, my sister wouldn’t have hired you."

"I took her on because Abby showed a lot of potential. In fact—"I turn to Abby. "I see something of me in you."

Abby’s features light up. "You do?"

I nod. "You have the same hunger, the need to prove yourself. That thirst for success that pushes you to try harder, to go that extra mile?—"

"Which is why I think you’ll be perfect for the role of my new Communications Manager," Cade steps in smoothly.

Abby jerks her chin in his direction. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I need help managing my social media profiles, as well as my PR, and you heard my sister, you’re among the best on her team. So, I’ve decided you can come work for me.”

Abby stiffens. She folds her arms across her chest, mirroring Cade’s earlier body language. "And if I refuse?"

To find out what happens next read Cade and Abby’s story in The Agreement, HERE

Turn the page to read The Pretend Christmas Bride, Edward & Mira’s story in which Edward gets his HEA