Sin’s already mentioned making the appointment with a fertility specialist. We agreed we’d see one as soon as possible but it feels like another thing we’re jumping into. I understand it’s just a consult—not the actual procedure itself—but I’m a little worried it’s something he’ll want to pursue soon because it’s what The Fellowship will want, rather than what we want.
He’s so hopeful when he talks about it. I guess I might be too if I hadn’t already been counseled—by more than one doctor—concerning my poor prognosis. Granted¸ they weren’t the best doctors money could buy like the ones Sin plans on seeing.
I wait for Sin to unlock the door of his flat—I mean, our flat—and shiver against the cold. He uses his foot to push open the door and scoops me from the ground. “Welcome home, Mrs. Breckenridge.”
He carries me over the threshold and kisses me hard before returning my feet to the floor.
Mrs. Breckenridge. I’ve only heard him say it a few times. “I like hearing you call me that.”
“Then I shall do it more often if it pleases you, Mrs. Breckenridge.” He kisses the top of my head.
I put my arms around his midsection and squeeze tightly. “It does indeed, Mr. Breckenridge.”
“Welcome home.”
Entering his building still reminds me of traveling through a time warp. An old exterior. A modern interior.
I glance around the flat. Nothing has changed from four months ago. Off-white walls. Warm-toned wood flooring. Streamlined. Neat. Classy in a boring sort of way. Lacks color, with the exception of the television when it’s on. It’s a man’s defined space. The enormous flat screen says it all.
“Is it as you remember?”
I stand over the cocktail table. I lift copies of Women’s Health and Advanced Photographer, looking at their dates. July editions. Four months old. “Exceedingly so.”
“I didn’t know if you were finished looking at them.”
“So you kept them?”
“I knew you’d be back.”
The lack of human presence in the flat for the last six weeks means it’s chilly. “I should’ve sent someone to turn on the heat.”
“The cold is a good reason to snuggle until the furnace can heat the place up.”
“Right.”
Sterling appears at the door with our luggage. “Where would you like your bags?”
“There will be fine.” Sterling pushes our bags up next to the sofa out of the way. “Thank you. That will be all for now.”
“Of course, sir.”
Sin turns on the heat. “It shouldn’t take long to warm up. Are you tired?”
I’m beyond tired. Two flights and one layover. A sixteen-hour journey from beginning to end. “I feel like I could sleep for a week and the jet lag hasn’t even had time to kick in yet.”
“Let’s go to bed for a little while.”
I’m not sure that’s a good idea. “It’s nine in the morning. Our days and nights will for sure be messed up.”
“They’re already messed up, Bonny. It’s three in the morning to us.” He pulls on my wrists. “Come on. It won’t hurt if we rest a little.”
I’m not sure he has resting on his mind. “I will, but only to sleep and get warm.”
“We haven’t been here together in months. All I want is to lie next to you and sleep in our bed, in our home.”
Sounds like heaven.
* * *
I wake because I’m freezing. I’ve never shared a bed with Sin in weather like this but I’m learning that he’s a cover hog.
I’m a girl from the South. I’m not used to this degree of cold. It’s going to become bone chilling when December arrives in a few weeks so I need to make note of my husband’s linen-stealing tendencies.
He looks warm and toasty beneath our platinum bedding so I slide over to spoon him from behind. I place my ice-cold hand over his stomach and give the comforter a yank, but to no avail as it’s tucked snuggly around him.
“Cold?” he groans.
I wrap my leg around his body. “Mmm … hmm. Very.”
He rolls to face me and brings the bedding with him, spreading it over me. “I can’t have my sweet Bonny catching a chill.”
He’s holding me close, his chin resting on the top of my head. “Better?”
“Much. The climate change is a bit of a shock.”
“You were here during the long summer days. Winter is much different. Not only is it cold, but the days are very short. Don’t worry. You’ll adjust fine. After all, you are a chameleon.” He’s laughing at me again.
Chameleon. It’s true. I was taught from an early age to adapt to my surroundings but my husband doesn’t know the true extent.
I studied Sin for years. I stalked him with the purpose of using him for all I could get and then I’d toss him aside. I’m not sure he’s sorted out the depth of my plans, but it’s something I feel obligated to admit. “I watched and studied you for years.”
He’s rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “I know.”
He only thinks he knows. “No. I don’t believe you really do.”
He pulls away and looks at me. “What does that mean?”
Here goes. “I had to learn everything about the infamous Sinclair Breckenridge if I was going to infiltrate the brotherhood through you—your habits, your likes, your dislikes. I needed to understand your role within The Fellowship and how you functioned outside of it. I knew as soon as we met that I was up to my ass in alligators with the way you made me feel. I tried to tell myself you were a monster. I wanted to hate you so badly. I tried my damnedest but I couldn’t. That’s when I realized that pursuing you came easy because I wanted you desperately.”
The wrinkle between his brows forms a tight V. “You knew my habits with women before we met? And you used that knowledge to your benefit?”
I nibble my bottom lip and squint. “Yes.”
“What exactly was your objective?”
“To make you fall in love with me.” It sounds so much worse when I say it aloud.
“Because getting close to me meant getting close to my father?”
“That was the plan.” I can’t read his expression. “I’m sorry.”
“So the whole ‘want me, wait for me, can’t have me until you are dying to please me’ thing was all an act?”