Seduced By The British Billionaire (Billionaire BWWM BBW Romance Book 1) (13 page)

Joining her fiancé in bed, he reached an arm around her waist. His hand fell on her womb and she tensed. It felt weird having him touch her there.

“Are you sleeping in here all night?”

“I can if you want,” he said, while nuzzling the back of her neck. He liked to spoon. It was his favorite position to sleep in at night.

“What about your dreams at night?”

“I’m working on it. My therapist told me it’d be better to work through them together with you. So I’m willing to try if you don’t mind.”

Great
, she thought. The one night she wanted to sleep alone he had to be all loving and devoted. But she didn’t tell him that. Instead, she encouraged him, knowing that if she didn’t she would feel bad for it later. “I think you should,” she stroked his hand. “We need to get through this together.”

She would figure out what to do tomorrow.

Chapter14

The next few days were followed by a hideous case of morning sickness. Amber tried to hide it best she could, but pretty soon Sasha and Melanie caught on. When Sasha discovered her pregnancy tests gone, she confronted Amber during a walk down the beach front.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” she demanded.

“Not in particular,” was all she replied. Her body was exhausted with lack of sleep, mostly from the pregnancy, but also since Charles would moan in his sleep. At least he was getting better. The dreams were becoming further apart and less frequent.

She hadn’t wanted to have sex with him in the last few days which she could tell was putting him on edge. He wouldn’t leave her alone, asking if she was okay. Every night it would be the same answer. Yes, she was fine.

Ruffling in her bag, Sasha produced a can of beer. “Good,” she said while popping the lid open. “’Cause I brought you a drink. Figured it was a beautiful hot day and we could use it.”

Amber blinked; staring at the drink offered her. It was over. She had just lost the game over a fucking can of beer. She couldn’t drink it. So she just stared at Sasha, the fear seeping through her eyes as she gave up on keeping it a secret. “I can’t,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. It felt hard to breathe with the lump rising.

She didn’t mean to cry but all of the emotions she kept buried were coming to the surface. She could no longer hold them in. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “What do I do? I feel so lost right now.”

Sasha dropped her bag and took her in arms. “Oh honey, it’ll be okay. I told you it’s not a bad thing. A baby is a blessing. You’ll manage just fine.” Her motherly manner spread over Amber. “Besides, you two are getting married. What is the harm in that? He loves you, is super wealthy, and I’m sure will be happy to hear about this. He seems like a great guy since I’ve been around him.”

Amber grew warm and happy. “You think?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, wiping away her trickling tears. “You’re just hormonal. Everything is new and your life is changing dramatically. It’s okay to get cold feet.”

Sasha downed the beer and tossed it towards the water. “Oh my bad,” she joked.

“Litterbug,” Amber playfully shoved her.

She turned to shove her back, but Amber held her hands up. “You wouldn’t push a pregnant lady now would you?”

“Shut up,” Sasha countered, smoothing out her long tropical orange skirt. It flowed beautifully to the ground.

They laughed and enjoyed the walk as it wound past the bungalows and palm trees of their vacation spot.

“What are you doing out here, anyway,? Sasha asked, not quite knowing where they were headed.

“I’m looking for a good spot for the ceremony,” she replied dreamily. Her eyes sparkled with excitement just thinking about it. “Charles said we could get married here.”

“Damn, you’re one lucky girl,” she said. “Just make sure you tell him soon.”

Her heart sank. She didn’t know how to tell him or how he was going to take it. Would he be happy to hear it? He probably had other plans before they had kids.

Placing her fingertips to her lips, she sighed. “How do I tell him?”

“Must I tell you how to do everything?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she motioned to a nearby log. “Sit down and I will counsel you my dear.”

“Pfft, okay.” Amber sat down, adjusting her booty to fit in the shallow groove of the log. It appeared old and used, but made for a handsome bench. She leaned forward comfortably, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Make it special,” she began, breathing in the salt air and licking her lips. The beer had begun to do its work and she smiled cheerfully. “I guarantee a man like Charles won’t be disappointed. He’s in his thirties, previously married, and so in love with you. Just make it count for him because I’m pretty sure he won’t be upset. But you owe him an apology for being so distant after you tell him. He’s been hounding me nonstop about you. He’s worried, love.”

Guilt plagued her face. “He has? How do I tell him?”

“That, my dear, is up to you. It can be as simple as telling him after you two make love. That’s how I did it, and…” She grew quiet for a second. “He was very happy.” She wasn’t able to bring herself to mention his name out loud.

Amber cocked her brow, seriously hoping that there was more to the counseling than this. “Wow, that’s it?” She faked obvious disappointment with a wry face. “Some counselor you are,” she harassed, again shoving her friend. But this time Sasha fell flat on the floor, too happy from the beer to give a care.

She cringed from the thud that Sasha’s butt made on the hardened ground. Here it was obvious that the tide came in all the way to the log. The sand wasn’t loose. It was compact and dry from the last high tide.

“Charles’ mother thinks I’m pregnant. She thought it from the first moment we met.” She stood up to offer her friend a hand up, but Sasha refused, sticking out a tongue.

“Why would she think that?”

“She doesn’t like me at all. Don’t ask me why. I just wish there was some way to get her to like me.” Sasha stood up, brushing the sand off of her skirt. “Have you tried taking the time to get to know her?”

Amber shook her head, pacing around the log and obsessively stepping in her own footprints. “Why should I? It won’t make a difference. She’s not going to magically like me overnight.”

“You’d be surprised what spending time with your future mother-in-law can do. I wouldn’t rule it out altogether.” Then she glared at her. “Would you stop that please? You’re driving me crazy.”

Coming to a halt, she phased out. A million scenes played themselves out in her head. She needed to get herself put together before the wedding. There wasn’t much time. She had her dress fitting soon; having chosen a Vera Wang dress that Charles agreed to pay for. He told her money was no object. What a most perfect thing to tell a girl just before her wedding.

“I’ll tell him tonight,” she decided aloud. “And then I’ll finish the wedding plans.”

They both headed back home. Sasha needed to feed Abel who had a voracious appetite as of late. She had agreed to stay until the wedding which was in a few weeks but Melanie had to leave on a business meeting. She would be back on the big day.

When all was hush and quiet, Amber busied herself with internet searches. She still had to order the party favors, but she seemed to have found the perfect spot to place the arbor. She liked the place with the log.

Early afternoon she received a text from Charles stating he wouldn’t be home until late that night. She sighed. He would probably want to just go straight to bed.

After growing bored from the wedding plans, she decided to head over to Mrs. Livingston’s bungalow. She had rarely seen his parents since she first got there. The occasional greeting and inquiry of Charles was pretty much all that had passed between them. But today, she was determined for that to change.

Tapping on the door she waited. Mr. Livingston opened the door, greeting her with a friendly smile. Of course the gesture threw her off, but he was smiling at her, which was a good sign.

“Hi Mr. Livingston…sir...” She tripped over her own words and felt her cheeks grow hot. “Is the lady of the house around?”

Could one ask that anymore? Was that a proper way to address her or was that too old fashioned? She wasn’t quite sure, but she found him opening the door for her to come in. “She’s fixing lunch. Please come in, there is plenty.”

Amber stepped through the doorway gingerly, removing her sandals immediately after. The sweet smell of pineapple hit her nose causing her mouth to water. Whatever his mom was making, it smelled amazing.

She tiptoed forward while trailing Mr. Livingston. The kitchen revealed itself a few feet after the doorway, its massive counter space a dream for any aspiring chef.

Mr. Livingston motioned to Amber. “Dear, we have a guest.”

She turned with cooking mitts on her hands to see who it was. “Amber,” she said surprised. “How nice to see you. Please, make yourself at home.” She pointed to a tall bar stool at the edge of the counter. “George and I were just talking about having you over for dinner.”

Amber couldn’t tell whether that was a lie or them being honest. Either way, she was happy to oblige.

Swiftly walking across the spacious living room with its leather couches and cedar coffee table, she sat down at the ordained seat.

Never had she seen a woman busy herself around the kitchen quite so enthusiastically. It was rather intriguing to watch.

“So,” Mrs. Livingston broke the silence. “Perhaps we need to try this again,” she said, motioning to the two of them. “Just don’t take everything too personally dear.”

Amber gracefully inclined, taking care to notice every little detail of the warm home. There were pictures of sail boats and lighthouses all over the walls. Candles were lit even in the daytime, probably to add warmth she assumed. Spices and fruit lined the counter tops of the rather elaborately equipped kitchen. It even had double ovens too.

Mrs. Livingston was preparing a fruit bowl. She was cutting up star fruit and decorating the rims quite skillfully. Without looking up, she continued the conversation. “Charles tells me you paint. I’m sorry for being so rude a while back. I just have a hard time coping with change,” She apologized. “Tell me about your paintings.”

The sudden change in mood threw her for a loop. She didn’t quite know how to answer. She grabbed at a loose napkin nervously and began to fold it. “There isn’t much to tell really,” she breathed, glad that Mrs. Livingston’s gaze was so concentrated on the fruit. “I paint from my heart. Just for fun really. I don’t ever expect to go anywhere with it.”

Mr. Livingston piped up in the conversation. “What do you like to paint?”

She thought about it for a good long second. The smell of paint rushed through her nose and the sturdy feeling of the brush weighed so nicely. She could almost feel them now. Then she looked up. “I paint water scenes. I like the ocean. There’s something so romantic and lonesome about its depths. I know I sound weird,” she added, hoping that she didn’t come across that way.

Mr. Livingston shook his head. “Not at all, my dear.” He proceeded to twirl his new grown mustache. It managed to make him look distinguished in his years. Amber kind of liked it.

Mrs. Livingston looked up from her cutting. “I have a request from you later, but I’ll touch on the subject after dinner.” She licked her fingers before putting the knife in the deep sink. “Tell me about yourself. Were you born in New York? Do you have family?”

At least she was trying instead of shooting out racial slurs from obvious disapproval some time ago.

Amber nodded. “I was born in New York. I was adopted… my parents died when I was young.”

“Ah, I see.” Mrs. Livingston placed the bowl of fresh assorted fruits in front of Amber. “Dig in,” she smiled. “Dinner will be ready in a few hours.”

The hours went by with frivolous chatter. Mrs. Livingston seemed to be keeping an open mind about her, which was making it much easier for conversation.

Mr. Livingston had a hearty laugh. He liked to drink his brandy and relax by the window, but his real passion was food. He kept asking his wife when it would be ready, and as always she would reply that it would be done when it was done. One could tell after being under the roof only a few hours that the Livingston’s had been married for many long years. They exuded that comfortable gentle sensation towards one another, yet neither caved in to the other’s whim. They were like two happy old crows surrounded by an insurmountable amount of wealth. Yet, Mrs. Livingston seemed to believe that servants were for the weak and unable. She refused to let anyone do anything for her, which was rather surprising to Amber.

Amber learned a lot those few hours she sat there. Charles’s parents weren’t the typical rich family. They enjoyed simple things amongst the luxury. And honestly it was refreshing.

She listened as Mrs. Livingston told her about the man she was going to marry. Pride beamed from her despite the fact that she didn’t like to show it. She was the kind of woman to keep her emotions inside. But within her was a love so strong.

“You know,” Mrs. Livingston said as the darkness began to settle in the sky. The sun was on the brink of the horizon, casting orange glows upon everything. “Charles has always been my favorite, but I’ve never wanted to tell him this. I wanted him to be stronger than his sister.” She grew silent as one does in reflection of the past. It seemed to wrap around her, consuming her thoughts for what seemed an eternity.

Amber merely looked at her from the reclining beach chair she sat in. A strawberry daiquiri in one hand and an itch forming in her other, she turned to the water. How she wanted to paint it so badly. She drowned in the feeling as it carried her soul across those perfect waters.

When Mrs. Livingston stirred, she shielded her eyes from the glow. “This is why I love it here. There is no other beauty on the world than watching the sun disappear over the waters, unobstructed by nothing.” She took another sip of her drink before turning to Amber. “I usually open up after a few drinks,” she admitted with a soft giggle. “But when I’m sober I want you to know that I don’t dislike you. I’m just a hard woman. I’ve always had to be. But honestly I wasn’t happy with Charles’ marriage decision. Seeing how nice of a girl you are now, I suppose I can’t judge much past that.”