The Affair

“Forever,” she mouthed, smiling. His fingertip brushed across her lips, and she felt that familiar tug at her core.

“I love you,” he said simply. “I never thought I’d tell another person that. I thought I knew what that word meant. But I’ve never known this.”

She stared at him, unable to draw breath.

“What? Don’t you believe me?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

“Yes,” she said emphatically. “I love you, too.”

He cupped her jaw before he leaned down to kiss her. She’d been wrong to think they’d left behind that golden, unfurling sweetness on the sun-drenched beach at La Mer. It spread inside her now in the unlikely setting of a hospital room, all because he was here next to her, taking a risk.

He lifted his head and plucked softly at her lips with his.

“Now. Tell me,” he urged.

And with his breath mingling with hers, and that golden sweetness ru

She couldn’t read his expression as the truth spilled out of her, no matter how desperately she tried.

“. . . and Vera showed me the birth certificates, Va

“That bitch,” he bit out. Emma started at the venom in his tone. “I can’t believe she did that!”

“I told you, she hated herself for not being capable of being a good mother. Cristina suffered more than you’ll ever know with the knowledge of her lack—”

“I don’t mean Cristina,” he interrupted. “I mean Vera. She spewed all that at you, and then told you that if you saw me again, she’d tell me about Cristina and . . . what? I’d go into a tailspin? The truth would ruin me forever? And you believed her?”

Emma’s face went slack. “I believed her, but with good reason. She had the proof. Are you telling me you think she was making it all up? Cristina wasn’t really your biological mother? I was being gullible?”

An expression of pure frustration and fury tightened his face. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. You didn’t do anything wrong. Vera was telling the truth. Cristina was . . . is Adrian’s and my blood mother. My father told me before he died. That’s not why I’m in shock. I can’t believe that Vera has known all these years, and that she used the information to blackmail you. What a fucked-up bitch.”

He shook his head distractedly, obviously lost in thought. His gaze eventually landed on Emma’s face. He blanched.

“Jesus,” he muttered heatedly under his breath. He stood and poured her more ice water. “Here. Drink this. You’ve gone white as a sheet,” he said grimly, handing her the water and sitting back on the bed next to her. He waited until she’d taken a swallow. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking the cup and setting it back on the bedside table.

“You knew? You knew all along Cristina was your biological mother?” she asked, shock ringing in her voice.

He sighed and shut his eyes briefly. “Just since my father died five years ago.” His gaze sharpened on her. “It wasn’t the most welcome of news, and I can’t say I took it well. Still . . . it didn’t ruin me, even if it did confuse my feelings for Cristina all that much more,” he admitted bitterly. “But that’s not the point. You were willing to keep this from me because you thought it’d hurt me that much? You were willing to sacrifice what’s happening between us because you thought that would hurt me more than losing you?” Stark pain flashed in his eyes. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

Emma shook her head, clobbered by the turn of events. Relief swept through her, escalating her emotional state even more.

He shook his head, clearly as incredulous as she was. “And the worst of it all?” he asked. “It almost worked, what Vera did.”

“No. Don’t think about that,” Emma said firmly, finding her voice. She reached for him. “It didn’t work. We’re here together.” He held her fast and she squeezed him back. “You know what I’m thinking?” she asked him with a bark of hysterical laughter after a moment, her voice thick with emotion.

“What?” he asked as he pressed his lips against her neck with feverish intensity.

“Maybe that car wreck today wasn’t such a random accident, after all.”

He stilled. His hand rose to cup the back of her head. He pulled her back slowly. Before his face lowered next to hers, she saw the fierce light in his eyes.

“It wouldn’t surprise me. I may have said I doubted you at first, but I was kidding myself. It couldn’t be more clear to me now that you can make miracles, Emma,” he said with grim finality before his mouth claimed hers.

Epilogue

ONE MONTH LATER

Emma curled up on her side on the cushioned lounger and looked out at paradise. Va

“I think I’m becoming extremely selfish,” she murmured, her voice pitched just above the silken, rhythmic cadence of the waves hitting the beach.

“I’m trying to imagine how and coming up short,” he replied dryly, moving aside the tray and remnants of the delicious lunch Mrs. Denis had made them. He rolled onto his side facing her, his head perched in his hand. She reached out and traced her finger along his ridged, taut abdomen with languorous sensuality.

“Really?” she murmured, turning her hand and brushing the stu

“I think you spoil me rotten,” Emma told him pointedly.

His lips tilted in amusement as he reached out and delved his fingers into her hair. “Most women would think I was selling them short by not giving them a huge wedding at the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild or the Château de la Napoule.”

“You showed me those places, and several besides,” she reminded him, ru

“Certainly none as special to us,” he said, sobering.

“Va

“Yes?”

“Do you think that maybe we could live here most of the time?” she asked in a hushed voice.

She thought he’d be surprised or nonplussed, but instead, a small smile tilted his mouth, as if he’d been expecting her to say it. He pushed slightly on the back of her head and she leaned forward, meeting his kiss.