Holt, Her Ruthless Billionaire (Pt. 2 of the Ruthless Second Chance Duet): 50 Loving States, Connecticut Pt. 2 (Ruthless Tycoons) by Theodora Taylor

Author:Theodora Taylor [Taylor, Theodora & Taylor, Theodora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rom Tell That
Published: 2017-12-17T05:00:00+00:00

19

HOLT

I wake the next morning in a position I thought I would never be in again. Next to Sylvie. But not just next to her. My arms encase her as if I am worried she might try to run again if I don’t keep her close.

Doesn’t that sum up our whole relationship? Her running. Me never wanting to let go.

This morning, though, I make a special exception. Leaving her warm, naked body to get up and dress. My board presentation is early this afternoon. But instead of doing a few dry runs yesterday like I should have, I spent most of the evening making curried goat and an “appropriate side” with Sylvie.

I don’t regret a thing. But I do have to play catch up this morning. Which means reviewing the main points of my 45-minute speech with room for Q&A at the end while I clock eight miles on the treadmill in my building’s gym.

When I return to the penthouse, all thoughts of my speech fall away. Sylvie is in the shower. Speaking of things we never did before…

I grab another condom and step inside the enclosed glass space to show her how good I am at standing up on my own in the shower these days. I can stand and hold her, too. I take her against the shower’s gray marble wall. Explaining with my actions just how much I’ve changed.

Sylvie’s screams are my reward, and my yell when I come is my confirmation. It will always be like this with her. As much as I have tried to suppress and kill what I feel, I now know my feelings will not fade as they did with Tish. The thing is, I liked Tish a lot at first. She was pretty and refined and cynical—the perfect wife for a secretly-tortured billionaire. But I never loved Tish. Not in the way I love Sylvie. I never belonged to Tish the way I belong to Sylvie.

As we rinse off after, I wonder how long it will take before Sylvie understands this, too.

I reluctantly part ways with her after we finish with our second soap and rinse off of the morning. I need to change.

I put on the dark blue suit I chose for the meeting. But just as I am about to attach the set of silver cufflinks I inherited from Grandpa Hank, I freeze. A melody floats out of the open bathroom door and into the bedroom.

It’s not the first song I have heard this morning. Sylvie has been playing tracks by some R&B singer I never heard of since we left the shower.

But this song is different. The underlying melody…it reminds me of our summer in New Haven. Dreamy and lovely… before things fell apart.

Moments later, I’m at the open bathroom door, cufflinks in hand. I listen to the song and watch Sylvie work some product through her unbraided hair. Totally entranced.

“What was that song?” I ask when the playlist switches to a more upbeat number.

Sylvie visibly startles, but eventually says, “’Jahraymecofasola.

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