I close my eyes. The smell of Jonas is familiar, too. So many questions swirl around in my mind. How close had we been? Why did I wake up alone? Did I hate this man and run from him? I try and fight the questions off.

The reality of them is scary. Sometimes I wonder if my mind made me forget things to protect me. I read about that many times when I was trying to figure out why I couldn't remember.

“Promise it. I want your word. You’ll never keep me from him.”

“I’d never do that.”

I can hear the anger in his words. I relax a little. I know he thinks I’ve been keeping Jax from him. How is this possible? It is too much of a coincidence that Jax is his son and I work for the Wards. A family that he seems to be familiar with.

His hands move up and down my back. Even in his anger he is trying to soothe me. I keep my eyes closed, my body starting to feel heavy. I can’t be tired. Too much is going on. But as he holds me close, I feel sleep try to take me. I jerk awake when I feel my body move.

“Jax.” I open my eyes to see where my son is.

“He’s still asleep.”

I pull my head back to see Jonas has me in his arms as he makes his way down the stairs of the plane. I see a man in a suit has Jax in his car seat. He’s still out as the man carries him gently down the stairs behind us, doing his best to not wake him.

How long have I been asleep? I wonder.

“It was a short flight,” Jonas answers, making me realize I’ve spoken the words. It’s still night out.

“I can walk.” I try and put my feet down but he’s got them hooked over his arm.

“We’re here.” He stops walking and slowly puts me on my feet. “Take Jax around.” He motions to the man that’s holding Jax. “In.” He nods at the open door to the SUV, where another man in a suit is standing. They are everywhere.

I climb in as the other door opens, allowing the man to put Jax’s car seat inside. In record time he has it strapped in. It’s faster than I ever could have done it. I sit down next to Jax and put my hand on him, needing to touch my son. Jonas gets in beside me.

“Seat belt.” He reaches over me before I can move to grab it, pulling it over me and clipping it into place.

“Where are we?” I ask again. I don’t even know what state we’re in. His eyes lock with mine. My heart flutters, catching me off-guard. His eyes search my face, looking for something. An answer maybe? I don’t have those.

“Home,” he says again, putting his hand on my thigh in a possessive hold as the SUV pulls out of the empty airport.

Chapter 9

Jonas

I want to interrogate her, get an hour-by-hour report of exactly what happened since the accident. It seems like she’s surprised—not just that I’ve found her but my actual existence. Her eyes nearly fell out of her head when I mentioned I had the pink lemonade she liked stocked on the plane.

“How did you find the Wards?” I ask as the SUV rolls down the highway toward Darby’s luxurious prison.

“I needed a job.”

My fingers clench around her thigh. “What was it about the life you had with me that made you decide that working at a horse farm owned by strangers was better for you?”

She rubs her lips together, the pink appearing and disappearing in a way that shouldn’t be erotic but is. My hand nearly clamps against her pussy in an automatic reflex. Back before she left me, if she’d done that, I would have had her under me with her skirt up and my cock inside of her within five seconds flat. I pull my hand off her thigh and lace my fingers together so I don’t do something dumb. I want her to give me a reason to overlook this. I don’t want to be mad. I have a son. This is a time I should be celebrating, but underlying my newfound joy at seeing Darby alive and discovering I have a son is the ugly reminder that she’s been hiding from me for almost three years. I can forgive it, though, if she’s honest with me.

“I had an accident and when I woke up, I didn’t remember anything.”

I hang my head in disappointment. “Amnesia? You’re going to claim amnesia as the excuse for running away and hiding my son? We’re not in a soap opera, Darby. You had my five-carat diamond ring on your finger. That meant something.”

Her fingers fly to her empty ring finger. “I...I never had any ring. My purse had a driver’s license and forty dollars. I had a credit card with no purchase history and a bank account that was overdrawn. I guess the hospital staff or the emergency crews must have taken it.”

She’s convincing but she should’ve picked anything else but a made-up illness. If she was frightened of having a baby or she hated the Willits’ life, that would have been understandable. I hate the Willits’ life and being pregnant for the first time would probably scare the shit out of me, but faking some kind of memory loss?

“That’s easy enough to check out.”

“You don’t believe me.” It’s a statement, not a question, and for some reason, I’m starting to feel bad. Like should I believe her?

“Did you know you were pregnant when you left me?”

“I don’t remember.”

I have a feeling all of my questions are going to result in that kind of answer.

“Where were you?”

My head pops up at her accusatory tone. “Where was I what?”

“Where were you when I got hurt? Why didn’t I see you at the hospital? If I was so important to you, if you wanted a baby with me so badly, why was I in a car alone with your child in my tummy?”

A pang of something like guilt tickles the back of my neck. I swat it away because I’m not the one who hid for nearly three years. “I was in Singapore when I got the news you were in an accident. Your car had stuck a tree and you were nowhere to be found. There was a cliff.” I swallow hard thinking about it. “It was thought you got out of the car disoriented and maybe fell over.” They never found a body. “How far along were you?” I change the subject not wanting to think about her dying on me. I lived that nightmare for three years.

“I was eight weeks. I was transferred to a different hospital after I woke up and couldn’t remember anything. I stayed in the new hospital for two weeks. While they tried to help me remember. I have the bill to prove it. The Wards paid it off for me.”

The guilt creeps back in. I fold my arms over my chest and pretend like all of this isn’t bothering the hell out of me. “The records will speak for themselves.”

“Fine, but remember you promised me that you would not separate me from Jax. No matter what.” Her pretty lips are set in a tight, unhappy line.

“I’m not the one who doesn’t keep their promises.”

“If I had a five carat diamond, I would take it off and throw it in your stupid face.” She turns to face the window.

That feeling of guilt grows. I never treated her like this before. My entire focus in life was to make sure she was happy, but I’m angry and hurt and frustrated. I don’t know when those feelings are going to go away—probably not until I’m inside of her again. My dick swells to uncomfortable proportions. I haven’t had sex in nearly three years. The last time I had my hands on her was the night before I left for Singapore. She made me shepherd's pie. I fucked her on the kitchen table after she put the leftovers in the refrigerator. I fucked her again in our bedroom with the lights on so I could see her gorgeous face full of lust. The encounter—our last one—is so clearly etched in my memory. She was on her back with her hair spread out like a fan. I was on my knees. I had her legs hooked over my shoulders and her ass in my hand. I ate her out first. I had her writhing, clawing at the mattress and when she was coming, I jacked my steel-hard shaft inside of her so hard I sent her skittering across the bed. The sheets pulled off the mattress; the pillows fell on the floor. When I came, it felt like I was unloading a gallon of cum into her hot pussy. We didn’t even have the energy to remake the bed. I dragged a comforter over us and we passed out. The next morning, I crept out of bed, showered and sped to the airport. We were negotiating a big shipping deal and I was out of contact for a day. When I came up for air, I got the call. She’d been in an accident. I left immediately and the deal cratered, but I didn’t care. I had to be back.