Chapter 3
TAYLOR
Present Day – Theo she’s earned every glittering second.
But me?
I want the kind of love that curls against your chest and trusts you implicitly. The kind that stays. That doesn’t lie. Doesn’t cheat. Doesn’t make you sorry that you cared.
I want a baby.
Not someday.
Not maybe.
Now.
Thirty-eight, and the clock isn’t ticking; it’s screaming.
I could adopt.
But I want to feel it all: pregnancy, birth, the biological bond from the very beginning.
I could go to a clinic. Pick a profile.
I can see it now. Tall. Dark. Educated. Good teeth. Good health. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Efficient. Unemotional.
Done.
But even as I think it, I know it’s not for me.
I want more than a checklist.
I want to know the man.
What truly makes him him.
And just like that, my gaze jerks to the villa behind me – to the man stepping out of the shadows and onto the lantern-lit path. My mouth instantly kicks up. The light hits everything except his face, but I’d know that body anywhere. All towering muscle and brutal strength.
Axel.
My other best friend.
Best man to my maid of honour status.
Now the formalities are over, he’s traded the suit for worn-in jeans and slackened off his shirt. Collar open, sleeves shoved back, white cotton skimming over muscle and ink like a tease I should absolutely ignore… Mmmm.
Yeah, I shouldn’t be looking, not like this.
Yet…
There’s always been something about Axel. Something that makes the air hold still whenever he shows up. And it’s not just me; everyone takes an extra breath the second he appears.
Whether it’s fear, desire, or pure OMG-ness…
I see it now in the perky, blonde bartender as he approaches the beach-hut bar, leaning in to speak to her.
Her eyes widen with her smile, her shoulders hitch with her breath.
But my eyes are already drifting back to him, his profile edging into the light as another smile touches my lips.
His dark hair’s too tame, his beard trimmed to stubble: both groomed to fit the occasion, not the man.
But the dark, mesmerising eyes. The nose with its faint bump from one too many breaks. The cocksure tilt of his full mouth… all Axel.
And no matter how much I tell myself I shouldn’t, I can’t look away. Doesn’t matter that I’ve known him most of my life, that I should be used to his pull by now. I’m not.
I’m as awestruck as I was twenty-five years ago, the night he stepped between me, Theo, and a knife-wielding gang. He was two years older, but it might as well have been ten for his power and his presence.
From that moment on, it’s been the three of us.
Theo, the brains.
Axel, the brawn.
Me, the beauty: the media’s words, not mine.
Because who can resist a rags-to-riches tale like us?
We built our empires from scratch: late nights, cheap beer, stubborn dreams. I ran the escort agency. Axel ran protection. Theo ran the money.
And we made it.
Millionaires by thirty. Billionaires before forty.
Now? I own Royal HQ, a chain of elite clubs. Theo plays monopoly with the world’s markets. And Axel heads a global security force with more influence than Interpol.
On paper, we shouldn’t mix.
In practice, we’re perfect.
And in every version of my life that’s mattered, these guys have stood beside me.
Now Theo has Sadie.
And Axel… he’s still here. Guarded. Loyal. Allergic to love, like me. Yet always here.
Through it all, none of us have ever crossed that line. Not once. But with Axel… the thought of it?
It’s lived beneath my skin for years. A current you’re not supposed to touch. Buzzing. Low. Dangerous as fuck.
He glances over and I fight the crazy urge to look away. Since when have I ever avoided his eye?
Since you saw him through your baby-making spectacles, perhaps?
Because suddenly, the question isn’t, how do I do this alone?
It’s, do I even have to?
The bartender draws his gaze away and I release a trapped breath, the thought stretching with it…
Of all the men in the world, could he be the answer?
Not as a partner, or a father in the traditional sense. But a donor.
He knows me: every mess, every layer of armour, every story I’ll never say out loud.
He wouldn’t overstep.
Wouldn’t complicate it.
Wouldn’t try to claim what I never offered.
He could give me what I need, and a clinic could do the rest.
Clean. Controlled. Contained.
Exactly how I like it.
The bartender passes him two drinks: one a cocktail the colour of Sicilian blood oranges, the other dark and still. A neat rum, if I had to guess.
Then his eyes lock on mine, the smallest hint of a smile curving his mouth as he heads my way, and my pulse starts to race. Like he can read what I’m thinking, what I’m plotting, what I’m daring to dream… and how he could play a part.
His scent hits me first. Clean, masculine, freshly showered. It drifts on the breeze and makes my heart flutter harder. A crazy, irrational reaction, courtesy of my crazy, irrational thoughts.
Though… is it really that crazy, that irrational, when I trust him so completely?
‘You looked like you could use a drink,’ he says as he nears, his voice extra low so he doesn’t disturb Lottie.
‘You’re a mind reader,’ I say, almost wincing as my words collide with my panicked thoughts, and I hurry on, ‘Which one’s for me?’
‘You really need to ask?’
His mouth lifts into that trademark half-smile: the one that never quite reaches his rich, brown eyes but always teases like it might.
Not that his eyes look brown right now. They’re more black, and they glitter like obsidian in the fairy lights, making it hard to hold his gaze.
‘Thank you.’
I take the obvious choice, careful not to brush his fingers, which is ridiculous in itself.
I’ve never been afraid of touching Axel, even when it puts him on edge.
Which it does. A lot. Any touch, from anyone.
It’s not personal. But I’ve always figured that the more I touch him with kindness, the less the beatings of his past get a say.
‘Is it bad I don’t care what it is?’ I ask.
‘Only if you start whining later.’
My laugh comes out far too breathy and I pray he doesn’t notice. ‘Consider me warned.’
He clinks his glass to mine and takes a swig, but I don’t move. I’m too caught up in him. With the styled hair and designer stubble, he’s him, but not. Familiar, yet… charged in a way that makes my pulse race even faster.
‘You mention my hair again, Stone,’ he grumbles without looking at me, ‘and we’ll be having words.’