1152 A.M.
TED
Ted woke to the sound of someone shouting outside his door.
He had been dead to the world and was disoriented in that way one is when they sleep too long during the day.
Instead of getting up to investigate what was going on outside his room, he lay still, blinking for solid minute as he tried to determine if the yelling was real or was part of a dream.
He could hear the faint beat of a familiar rock song but couldn’t quite place it.
The shouting—if it was real—had stopped.
Then he heard the sounds of footsteps pounding in the hallway, stopping somewhere nearby.
And more yelling, but it didn’t sound angry.
It was authoritative. What the hell was going on?
Was it a fight or an emergency? Sniffing, he sat up and grabbed his phone off the night table.
God, he had really overslept. He’d only meant to have a short nap, but here it was nearly noon.
He smiled to himself as the reason he’d needed such a big sleep came to mind.
His night with Char had been incredible.
They’d never made love quite like that before.
It had always been amazing, but last night it was nothing short of magical.
Women seemed to go the extra mile when the word forever was dangled.
Not that he didn’t mean it. Because he did.
Well, sort of. It would be complicated as all hell to make that happen.
But the way she looked at him last night would make it all worth it.
He had set the alarm on his phone so that Charlotte could drift off to sleep in his arms (because she deserved to fall asleep in his arms for once).
His last thoughts were of Antonia somehow evaporating into thin air so he could lie naked with Charlotte every night and wake up next to her, their bodies tangled together every morning.
It was so easy with her. She wasn’t demanding or judgmental.
She made him feel smarter, stronger, wittier.
She looked up to him, which is something Antonia had never done, even in the beginning.
He knew he shouldn’t want a woman to look up to him.
It was unhealthy, even a little perverse, and the therapist in him had once questioned whether his attraction to Charlotte was a reaction to Quinn leaving the nest. Not because he was attracted to his daughter.
That would be sick. But because Quinn looked up to him as if he was the smartest, strongest, bravest man in the world.
It was addictive, that feeling. Being the man who could solve any problem, handle any situation.
He hadn’t realized how addictive it would be when they had children.
But it was. Xavier didn’t look up to his father in that same way.
It was as if their son had somehow clocked that Ted was full of shit a lot of the time.
But not Quinn. Quinn thought her father was the very best man on the planet.
And as soon as she left for Paris, there was a gaping hole in his ego his daughter used to fill.
It was shortly after she moved that Ted had started to pay more attention to Charlotte, who had just been dumped by a total jerkwad.
The young idiot couldn’t see the remarkable woman in front of him.
She was licking her wounds and had all but given up on men when Ted swooped in.
It was all so innocent at first. Ted was a shoulder to cry on—a wise, older man who could offer perspective and wisdom.
He complimented her. Carefully. Nothing about her body (which was incredible).
Only her mind. He told her how smart she was.
How funny and kind. He told her she was the one of the loveliest women he’d ever met.
Only a total ass wouldn’t see what he had before him and know how lucky he was.
He told her she was rare, like a flawless diamond. She especially seemed to love that.
It grew from there, and within a few months, he was doing something he never thought he would do.
Kissing her deeply in the stairwell of the St. Regis, fingertips gripping her hips as he pulled her to him.
And now, here he was, in love, with no way to separate himself from his wife without giving up his career, soiling his reputation, and devastating his children.
The second the alarm had gone off in the middle of the night, he silenced it, not wanting to wake her.
When he pulled his arm out from under her, she let out a pouty little moan and turned over onto her stomach.
God, she was beautiful. It was all he could do not to slide his hand down the length of her naked body and wake her up again for another round.
Although, round two after age fifty-four seemed more like a pipe dream than a reality.
So he dressed quickly and slipped out, smiling at the fact that he could still smell her on his skin.
Then he showered and got into bed with his cold, harpy wife.
His life would be so much easier if she just evaporated, like she had in his dream the night before.
Charlotte was right when she said his kids would hate her if he left Antonia for her.
Especially Quinn. Xavier wouldn’t be happy about it, but he didn’t care enough about his parents to get worked up about what they did.
He’d likely tell Ted he was a dickhead, then he’d change his tune the next time he needed money.
But Quinn, his little girl, would be distraught to learn he wasn’t the flawless man she believed him to be.
If only there was some way to have his cake and eat it too.
By the time he had gotten up and gone pee, all the ruckus had died down. He grabbed his phone and sent Charlotte a quick text.
Was just dreaming of all the things I’d like to do to you. Can’t wait for tonight.
When he didn’t get a response, he decided to go for a stroll around the yacht, hoping he’d run into her before his wife spotted him. But that wasn’t likely, was it? The woman had eyes like a hawk.