Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
The guilt continues to eat away at me even now, as I check my watch. Petra and I have only spoken a handful of times since that first phone call, mostly to finalize certain details pertaining to our marriage of convenience. Firstly, I assured her that there would be no expectations of intimacy or fidelity between us. If she was to meet another man with whom she felt a strong romantic connection, I would gladly step aside to support their union. As for me, I gave up on finding love a long time ago. Most of my entanglements have never made it beyond the honeymoon phase. Even my marriage to Rochelle, Brittany’s mom, burned out after a couple of years.
Lastly, Petra and I agreed that she and Eden would reside in my penthouse apartment in Chicago after the wedding. I travel so often for work that it’s like I barely live there, which means they’ll pretty much have the place to themselves.
All in all, negotiations with Petra have gone smoother than I could have hoped. The hardest part thus far has been setting a wedding date. Each time we’ve tried to arrange a time to meet at the courthouse, her health would decline. She sounded so tired and run-down the last time we spoke, that I decided to invite her and her daughter on this vacation with Brittany and me.
Brittany wasn’t exactly pleased when I told her my new fiancée and soon-to-be stepdaughter would be joining us. My daughter and I typically only get about two weeks a year together, one week in the spring and one in the fall. Most of the time, I’m busy working and she’s with her mother and stepfather, so our twice-yearly vacations are the only father-daughter bonding time we get.
I love my daughter, but as an only child from not one but two wealthy families, she’s never had to work very hard for what she wanted. In trying to grant her every opportunity, we’ve spoiled her. I’m hoping some exposure to “regular” folk will help bring her back down to Earth.
However, as I hear her scoff and exclaim, “Who’re these plebs? They look like they just came straight from Target.” I think perhaps that goal may be too lofty.
My flight attendant, Liz, ushers Petra into the private jet’s cabin. I haven’t seen Petra since the day she and Dan got married, and I’m saddened to see how her illness has affected her. She’s thin bordering on skeletal, and her once golden hair lays limp and dull on her shoulders. However, her eyes still hold the same kindness I remember.
I cross the plane to help her up the last few steps.
“Christian,” she says in her lightly accented voice, slightly winded. “It’s been a long time.”
“It really has been.” I offer my hand to her. She takes it, her fingers cold and thin against mine.
“It’s good to see you again…despite the circumstances.” Her clear blue eyes become clouded as a distant look crosses her face.
Swallowing, I answer, “I should’ve come out to see you both sooner. I’m sorry, Petra. I can’t imagine how difficult it’s been for you and Eden.”
Petra gives a thin smile and waves her hand. “No, you were busy. I never could’ve asked you to drop everything just to check in on us. But we are thankful that you’re helping us now. Lord knows Eden could use a nice trip.” She turns to try to look back down the steps. “Speaking of Eden, sweetie, are you all right?”
A melodic voice replies, “Yeah, Mom. Just trying to get all of our stuff together.”
Petra starts to head down the stairs. “Here, let me help—”
“Allow me, Petra.” I put a hand on her shoulder. I saw how hard it was for her to walk up the stairs by herself. I can’t imagine her making the extra trip with luggage.
She gives a wry smile and nods. “Thank you, Christian.”
I descend the stairs and then stop in my tracks. A young woman stands at the foot of the steps, fiddling with two rolling suitcases. It seems that one of the handles refuses to collapse. She looks up at me, her honey-colored hair fanning around her face in the wind. Her wide, crystal-blue gaze sears into mine, as if she’s gauging my intentions. The slight flush from her struggles with the suitcase has colored the apples of her cheeks a pleasant shade of pink.
She’s beautiful. I have no reason to be gob smacked by this realization, but I am all the same.
“You must be Eden,” I say when I can find my voice again. I can’t help noticing the way the strap from her duffel bag crosses her chest, emphasizing the striking curves of her body. “Need a hand?”
Her full lips tilt into a polite smile. “No, thank you, Mr. Montgomery. I’ve got it.”