Ignite: a Billionaire Second Chance romance (5 page)

C
yn returned
to the dining room and picked at her plate. She was glad when Jo came and cleared the table. She could focus on the winter formal with Mrs. King and try to forget Max mouthing “I love you” before he left.

Amelia King patted her hand as they discussed the designs for invitations and flyers.

“Carrie, down at the floral shop, has some wonderful flowers on order for us. They should be delivered the day of the formal. And did you know she’s donating them? All we pay is the delivery cost.”

Cyn smiled at Mrs. King, her enthusiasm for their project failing to ease the thoughts swirling madly inside her head. The winter formal was no match for the fears and doubts fighting to consume her.

“Lou has offered to do the same with the catering, you know. We are fortunate to have such great support in this town.”

Mrs. King nodded at her own words and wiped a tear from one eye.

“Excuse me dear, I need to speak to Jo. I’ll be right back.”

Cyn watched her go, knowing she needed a moment to pull herself together without prying eyes. The love and support of the people of Belleport was something she could always depend on. Her husband had left that legacy and Cyn hoped Max would step into his shoes and back into her life.

Rhys returned to the dining room after seeing his brother off and glanced around.

“Where’s mama?”

Cyn gathered her long hair in one hand and pulled it over her shoulder.

“She’s in the kitchen at the moment.”

Rhys sat across from Cyn and admired the woman his brother had spent the night with. She was beautiful and exotic with all that long, dark hair and her soft dark eyes.

“You seemed surprised when Max and Brooke left. Didn’t he mention it to you last night?”

Cyn glared at Rhys.

“Would you like for your mother to know about that? I don’t think Max would. And you want what’s best for him, right?”

Cyn stopped speaking when Rhys held up a finger.

“I won’t be the one to tell her. Not my business. Just thought you should know Brooke and I figured it out. It wasn’t difficult. You two have a chemistry that lights up a room. Always have.”

Cyn shook her head at Rhys.

“You know, it puzzles me that Brooke knows I spent last night having the best sex of my life with her
fiancee
but seemed not the least bit concerned this morning, other than that small outburst at the table.”

Rhys felt a twinge in his heart for Cyn. She didn’t know there was a baby. He knew his brother’s high school sweetheart could’ve walked away with first prize if it weren’t for that baby. Brooke knew it too.

“A woman like Brooke feels secure when she holds all the cards, Cyn. And she’s holding the beginning of a full house, if you get my drift.”

Cyn stared at Rhys, her heart quickening its pace in her chest. She felt nauseous and the room began spinning slowly. She placed her hands on the table for support. She sought Rhys King’s eyes again before the world went black.

“Spit it out Rhys. No more word games.”

Rhys stood and walked slowly to her side. He placed her head between her legs and pushed her hair aside as he knelt by her chair. His whispered words seeped like poison into her brain.

“Brooke is pregnant, Cyn. She told Max yesterday. I overheard them talking about it. But they haven’t told anyone else, not even mama.”

Mrs. King and Jo walked into the dining room then and gasped. Jo ran to Cyn and knelt down.

“What’s happened? Are you well Cynthia?”

Cyn drew in deep, calming breaths while her heart broke into a thousand jagged pieces. The room stopped spinning and she slowly sat up. She held onto Jo’s strong hand as she spoke.

“Amelia, I’m sorry but I think we’ll have to continue our planning another day. I’m not feeling well at the moment.”

Mrs. King ordered Rhys to drive Cyn home. She placed an arm around the young woman as she stood.

“That’s fine, my dear. I do hope you aren’t coming down with some terrible cold.”

Cyn took Rhys’s arm and slowly left the dining room. How could she ever come here again without breaking down?

I just lost the love of my life for the second time and this time it’s for good. I can’t break up a child’s home. I won’t.

Her mind clawed at her that Max had only been using her to get through his loss. And she had fallen for it because she’d never stopped loving him, hoping he might one day be hers.

The passenger seat was cool against her fevered cheek and she curled into a ball, trying to find something to hold onto before she tumbled over the edge of the world.

Rhys remained silent, sorry for dropping the bomb on her like that once his brother had gone. It was a case of being cruel to be kind he told himself. Cyn didn’t need to be waiting in Belleport for a life with his brother that wouldn’t pan out.

T
he next title
in
a Billionaire Second Chance romance

T
he King
private jet touched down in New York and Brooke glared at Max. She’d tried to tempt him into making love in every possible way she could imagine but he’d pushed her away time and again.

She was beginning to worry about her chances of becoming pregnant soon enough to hide the fact that she’d lied to him to get what she wanted.

He’d been distant since she’d told him she was pregnant. The coldness he radiated during the flight set her nerves on edge and she bit her lip on the accusations and insults that sat unspoken in her mouth.

Max held the door while she stepped into the limo and quickly joined her. She placed a hand on his knee and gazed into his perfect blue eyes.

“Now that we’re home, I hope we can talk and get past this distance between us.”

Max shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, we’ve plenty to discuss, Brooke. Like who is your doctor, when is your next appointment, and how far along are you?”

Brooke lowered her lashes. She’d known this was coming. Of course he’d want to know the answers to all those questions. There wasn’t anything she could say until she’d had time to think. In Belleport, he’d been distracted by Cyn but now he’d focus on her answers.

Before she could speak, his cell phone rang and she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d tell him to take her home and they could talk later in the privacy, and comfort, of familiar surroundings. She’d have the afternoon to think things through and plot the answers he demanded.

Max hung up the phone and turned to her.

“Where were we? Oh yes, you were about to tell me all about baby King. Didn’t you think I’d be interested, Brooke? A child is a lifetime commitment.”

Brooke sighed and placed a hand on her forehead.

“I really need to lie down, Max. I didn’t sleep well last night without you by my side. Ever since I told you about our baby you seem distant, cold even. I don’t see how all these questions will change that. Perhaps you need to focus on what I need right now instead of what you need.”

Brooke turned away and stared out the tinted window onto the streets of her beloved home. The situation between them was deteriorating quickly and she needed more time than he was willing to give.

C
yn paced
her living room feeling as though she might climb out of her skin. She breathed deeply and took the pillow she’d retrieved from her bed, the one he’d slept on, and breathed its fragrance deeply.

She sat on the couch and pulled her knees under her chin. He’d promised they would be together. He’d said he had to go back to New York and settle things. But he never mentioned a baby.

She knew why. He had to know she wouldn’t have let him through her door and definitely not into her bed last night. Why hadn’t Brooke taken the opportunity to rub her face in such important news? And if she knew they spent the night together as Rhys had said, why hadn’t she delivered some parting shot, some hint of anger beyond her little outburst about the winter formal?

None of it made any sense. Max was a lot of things, cocky, self-assured, and certain of her weakness for his body unfortunately, but she’d never known him to be a liar.

She had to face facts. The Max of today wasn’t a man she knew. He wasn’t the boy she fell in love with under the stars ten years ago. And she wasn’t that girl. Except that she still loved him.

She got up and walked into her kitchen. There was a vase full of wildflowers on the table with a folded piece of paper. She stood for what seemed an eternity eyeing the display as if it were a snake ready to strike.

Her cell phone buzzed in the other room and she ignored it. She walked slowly to the table and smiled at the haphazard arrangement. He must have gotten them from her garden before she woke this morning.

Cyn fingered the note, trying to decide if she should read it now or later. Would there be some explanation that would make the last few hours disappear or would there be an apology for the big lie between them?

She turned as her cell phone buzzed again. She left the kitchen, tears threatening once more.

The phone registered his name. Had he put his number in after he gathered the flowers? She held the still buzzing phone close to her heart and let the tears fall. She couldn’t speak to him now. Not until she read his note. And maybe not afterwards either.

Cyn placed the cell phone on silent and walked back into her kitchen. The sun highlighted the impromptu bouquet and a chilly breeze from the open kitchen window caught his note and it tumbled to the floor.

She stepped forward and picked it up, marking the moment before she opened it and read. What could he say that would change the unexpected news Rhys had casually delivered?

The note burned like a coal in her hands. She unfolded the paper and her tears began again. The words swam before her eyes and she pressed the note to her heart and sat at the kitchen table, her legs shaking.

Our love is real. It’s the only thing in my life at the moment that feels right. I’m coming back as soon as things are settled in New York. Last night in your arms I came home for good.

Love,

Max

Cyn knew now the things that needed settling in New York included a child. Why would Max keep that secret and claim to love her? Lying wasn’t on her list of the most desired traits in a man.

S
erena Sinclair is
the pen name of a published author who dreams of hot romance and sexy billionaires. Her guilty pleasure is people-watching and imagining their stories as far more exciting than they likely are.

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