Contents

Title

Copyright

Books by Cassie Cole

1 - Melinda

2 - Andrew

3 - Melinda

4 - Melinda

5 - Melinda

6 - Tristan

7 - Melinda

8 - Melinda

9 - Melinda

10 - Pierce

11 - Melinda

12 - Melinda

13 - Melinda

14 - Melinda

15 - Melinda

16 - Pierce

17 - Melinda

18 - Melinda

19 - Melinda

20 - Melinda

21 - Andrew

22 - Melinda

23 - Melinda

24 - Melinda

25 - Melinda

26 - Melinda

27 - Pierce

28 - Tristan

29 - Melinda

30 - Melinda

31 - Pierce

32 - Melinda

33 - Melinda

34 - Melinda

35 - Melinda

36 - Andrew

37 - Melinda

38 - Pierce

39 - Melinda

40 - Melinda

41 - Melinda

42 - Melinda

Epilogue

Bonus Chapter

Sneak Peek - Nanny for the Athletes

About the Author

Baby for the Billionaire

Copyright © 2024 Juicy Gems Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.

Edited by Gail Gentry

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www.cassiecoleromance.com

Books by Cassie Cole

Standalone Novels

Baby for the Billionaire

Shared by the Firemen

Nanny for the Athletes

Shared by the Pilots

Match Point

Roommates With Benefits

The Inheritance

Bosses With Benefits

Nanny for the Mercenaries

Shared by the Billionaires

Nanny for the Santas

Nanny for the Firemen

Nanny for the SEALs

Shared by the Cowboys

Nanny for the Billionaire

Her Lucky Charm

Naughty Resolution

Unwrapped

Frostbitten

Snowbound

Hail Mary

Extra Credit

Nanny With Benefits

Triple Play

Tiger Queen

The Study Group

Undercover Action

Trained At The Gym

Christmas Package

The Naughty List

Smolder

Sealed With A Kiss

Full Contact

The Proposition

Saved by the SEALs

Shared by her Bodyguards

Triple Team

All In

Five Alarm Christmas

Drilled

Broken In

Pyromancer’s Path

Warrior’s Wrath

Mage’s Mercy

Tinker’s Trial

Ranger’s Risk

Shadow’s Savior

1

Melinda

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this,” my mother said on the phone.

“I told you,” I replied, barely suppressing my sigh as I drove across Providence, Rhode Island. “I need the money.”

“If you need money that badly, you should go back and beg for your old job. They would probably take you back.”

“It’s not that simple, Mom.”

“Why not? Have you even tried?”

I felt a pain in my jaw as I clenched my teeth. My mom didn’t understand the situation. I still barely believed it myself. After nearly a year helping get New England Digital Marketing off the ground, the two founding partners—Robert Ethier and Robert Beschloss, who I referred to as the Bobs—fired me. They did it in spite of me doing the lion’s share of the work while they sat back and had expensive luncheons every day that they expensed.

And they did it one week before my shares in the company vested.

It was my own damn fault for not reading the contract more carefully. I should have hired a lawyer. That was a mistake I would never make again.

“I’m not going back to the Bobs,” I said bitterly. “Even if it was my last option on earth.”

“You can always ask us for money,” Mom insisted. “Your father and I have a nest egg tucked away. We can help.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“It would be better than selling your body…”

“I want to do this, Mom.”

Her voice rose on the line. “You’re basically a prostitute! And what if you want to keep the baby at the end? You don’t know how you’re going to feel, then.”

“Surrogacy is a totally normal process that lots of people go through,” I said calmly. “It’s done. I’ve signed up. I’m actually meeting with a potential couple today. I’m driving there right now.”

“Really? Who are they? Do they work in Boston? I’m always hearing about rich Boston couples coming down and buying up real estate here in town. It figures they would start buying babies next.”

“I’ll tell you about it if it works out,” I promised. “I’ve got to go. I’m almost there.”

“Make sure they’re on the up-and-up!” Mom quickly said. “I don’t want you getting sex-trafficked like that girl on the news. Have you heard about her?”

“Love you too, Mom,” I said, then hung up.

I let out a long exhale. Talking to my mom was always exhausting. But I knew it came from a place of love; she only wanted the best for me. I was lucky to have people who genuinely cared about me.

I used to think that my business partners cared about me, I thought with a grimace. Just goes to show: the only people you can rely on are family.

Despite my protests to my mom, she wasn’t completely wrong. I was still kind of skeptical about doing this. Pregnancy was a big deal, even if it was a pregnancy for another couple. Hell, that made it an even bigger deal. I had to grip the steering wheel tightly to keep my hands from shaking, that’s how nervous I was.

But I had plans, and those plans required cash. Surrogacy paid a lot of money, and I was young and fertile. At least, that’s what my tests showed. Once I had that money in my bank account, I could start my own digital marketing company.

And put those asshole Bobs out of business.

“It’s just a simple surrogacy,” I said out loud. “Women get pregnant all the time. It’s, like, the most common thing a woman can do. Literally billions of women have been pregnant before. If they can do it, so can I.”

I didn’t know much about the couple I was meeting. The offer had come at the last minute, so I had jumped in the car without much thought. All I knew was that they also wanted to use my eggs. That meant more money than if I was the surrogate for another woman’s fertilized egg. And money aside, it meant I would be helping some poor woman who couldn’t conceive on her own. There was a lot of joy in that.

It was the best case scenario. The biggest bang for my buck. But I couldn’t shake this nervousness.

Nervousness is natural, I reminded myself. It means I’m pushing my boundaries, which is always a good thing in life.

I was three miles from the address when I got a phone call. Bob Ethier. The name made me want to throw my phone out the window, but I took three deep breaths and answered it.

“Are you calling to beg me to come back?” I demanded. “Because I’m not helping you figure out anything unless you give me what you owe me.”

Bob snorted on the line. “We are doing quite fine on our own, thank you very much. I’m calling to remind you that you need to come down to the office to pick up your belongings.”

I had been fired over the phone without notice. I hadn’t been in the office since then. “Bob said he would ship everything to my home address.”

“Yes, well, we have not gotten around to that. We have been busy, of course. Your replacement begins tomorrow, so we need you to collect your things. Today.”

I felt my jaw tighten again. “You know what, Bob? I don’t think men get called cunts enough. Because right now, you’re being a real cunt, you know that?”

“Let’s not get emotional—”

“Firing me a week before my company equity vested? Cunty,” I said. “Telling me you’ll ship my belongings home and then changing your mind two weeks later? Cunty, to a lesser degree. But cunty nonetheless.”

“You have until the end of the day,” Bob said curtly, “or we’ll place your box out on the street for someone else to collect.”

“Throwing my stuff on the street? SUPER ULTRA MEGA CUNTY!” I shouted into my phone.

He had already hung up.

By then, I was nearing my destination. I looked around; I was on the south side of Providence, in an industrial park alongside the Providence River. Did I have the right address? It was deserted here.

No, not deserted. There was a black sedan parked in the middle of an empty lot. A man in a suit was standing outside the car with his hands clasped in front of him. I parked a few spaces over, turned off the car, and waited.

I had been told this was an introductory meeting, but I had pictured it at a nice couple’s house. I expected there to be a white picket fence and a Golden Retriever with a chewed up tennis ball in its mouth. This felt more like…

Like a sex trafficking operation, my mother’s voice reiterated in my head.

Next to the black sedan, the suited man raised his hand in greeting.

“I’m too fucking adult to be afraid of this sort of thing,” I said to myself. “Put on your big-girl pants and get out of the car, Melinda.”

I did just that.

“Melinda,” the man said, as if he knew me already. “I’m Andrew, Mr. Benning’s valet.”

He was American, but pronounced valet with a hard T sound, like the word mallet.

“Don’t you mean valet?” I asked, pronouncing it like ballet.

Andrew chuckled. “Uh, no. Our ride is this way.” He gestured toward the river.

Do they live on a houseboat? I wondered. And what the hell is a valet?

I followed Andrew, but there was a tingle of concern at the back of my neck. Like something wasn’t normal about all of this.

He must have sensed my worry, because he smiled and said, “I know this feels unusual, but I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s what serial killers say before shoving their victims into windowless vans,” I muttered.

Andrew chuckled some more. He seemed like an easy-going guy, and I wanted to like him despite the strange circumstances.

“The surrogacy agency verifies all clients thoroughly,” he explained. “I’m sure they explained this at great length.”

“Maybe you’re not with the agency. Maybe you got my number, pretended to be the agency, and sent me here.”

Andrew stopped and turned to face me directly. The wind off the river blew his wavy chestnut hair across his face. “You signed up with the agency eleven days ago. You’re surrogate number 36423, and Pierce Benning is client number 1442. You’re welcome to call the agency and verify all of this information before we proceed any further.” He held out his phone.

“Pierce Benning?” I asked.

Andrew frowned. “Did you not read the client brochure?”

“I skimmed it,” I said. “Why? You’re saying his name like I should recognize it.”

“Honestly,” Andrew said, turning around and looking up to the sky, “I’m surprised you don’t recognize his name.”

A helicopter appeared from behind a distant building, descending toward us. Andrew put an arm across me to keep me back, although the helicopter landed a good hundred feet away.

“This is our ride,” Andrew said. He cocked his head at me. “You really don’t know who I work for, do you?”

No, I thought while the whine of the helicopter rotors died down. But I think I’m about to find out.

2

Andrew

Melinda Norris hesitated only a moment before climbing up into the helicopter. I politely waited until she was seated before following her inside. The roar of the rotors rose an octave, and then the helicopter lurched into the sky.

I tried not to eye Melinda sitting across from me. It was hard not to. We had waited years for the right surrogate. Tristan and I had spent much of the past two weeks researching this woman. I had only met her five minutes ago, yet it felt like I knew her as well as I knew anyone.

I pulled out my phone and started a group text.

Me: We’re airborne. ETA ten minutes.

Tristan: I’ll be waiting. How is she?

Me: You’ll like her. She’s perfect.

Tristan: There’s no such thing as perfect. Everyone has their flaws. Sometimes they aren’t apparent until you look closely.

Me: Fine, Mr. Negative. Maybe she’s not perfect, but she’s about as perfect a candidate as we ever could have hoped for.

Tristan: Very good.

Me: She’s a little skittish. I can tell we caught her off guard. I don’t think she knows who Pierce is.

Tristan: Excellent. She will make an objective decision without allowing herself to be persuaded by Pierce’s… details.

Me: Something tells me she’ll figure out those details when we land on the Bellerophon.

Tristan: True indeed.

Me: Regardless, she’s an ideal candidate. You’ll like her. I hope she agrees to our second offer.

Pierce: We shall see. Don’t get your hopes up until the contract is signed.

Tristan: Understood.

Me: Yep.

I put my phone away and tried to study Melinda Norris without seeming too obvious. Everything in her file, all the research we had done, indicated she was the perfect surrogate. But the things that weren’t in the file…

She was a tight little thing, compact and fit. There was an alluring curve to her chest, and a sexy way that those jeans clung to her athletic legs. Although she had remained quiet on the journey so far, I could tell she had a fighting spirit. The kind of woman who wouldn’t take shit from anyone without a fight.

Yeah, I thought to myself. As long as she buys into the crazy offer we’re about to make, she’s perfect.

3

Melinda

This is perfectly insane.

I got on the helicopter. Andrew opened the door, and I just climbed inside. With someone who was essentially a stranger I had met in an industrial park.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I used to be smart. I didn’t rush into things; I carefully considered situations before making decisions. My time at New England Digital Marketing had made me impulsive. My two weeks since being fired there had made me desperate.

What if my mom was right? What if I’m being sex trafficked?

A flurry of intrusive thoughts bombarded me. I could punch Andrew and demand that the pilot take me back. I could scream. I could call the police. I could throw open the door and jump to safety. Was there a parachute in here? Probably not. That was some action movie bullshit. My adrenaline-fueled imagination was running wild.

“Never been on a helicopter before?” Andrew asked cordially.

I turned away from the window. “Why?”

He smiled. “You seem… jumpy.”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

Andrew shrugged and looked at his phone.

I’d been in a helicopter before. During a family vacation to Hawaii five years ago, we booked a helicopter tour around the big island. I remembered that experience being extremely loud.

This helicopter wasn’t loud. It was quiet, like the inside of a luxury car. I could hear the soft hum of the engine, and a faint vibration in the seat, but that was it.

This Pierce Benning guy and his wife must be very wealthy. Or maybe they were making a show of their wealth to get me to agree to be their surrogate. The agency claimed that some couples waited years before finding the right surrogate. They might be desperate. The entire surrogacy process would cost forty or fifty grand, so what was a few extra thousand in order to seal the deal?

No, the helicopter probably wasn’t just for show. Andrew said he worked for Pierce Benning. A valet, with a hard T. That sounded like some rich people shit. Andrew seemed like a nice guy. He had a calming demeanor that made me relax. My immediate instinct was that I liked him.

Which made me even more suspicious.

Although I didn’t think that I was being kidnapped, I decided to text my mom. Just in case.

Me: Hey, FYI I’m meeting with the surrogate shortly. They sent a helicopter to pick me up. I’m sharing my location with you as a precaution. Don’t freak out, all right?

Mom: A helicopter? And you just got on it like a kid that was offered free candy?

Me: It’s a helicopter, Mom! Not a windowless van!

Mom: IT MIGHT AS WELL BE! Where are they taking you?

Me: I actually don’t know. I didn’t ask.

Mom: What if they take you to Canada? The US government won’t have jurisdiction! They can do whatever they want with you!

Me: I don’t think that’s how that works, Mom. I told you not to freak out. I’m only sharing my location with you just in case.

Mom: I’m calling the police. Your father plays poker with a detective in Pawtucket. I’m going to make sure he’s on the case.

Me: MOM, STOP.

Me: You’re overreacting.

Me: Everything is fine.

Me: Ok?

Mom: If everything were fine, you wouldn’t be sharing your iPhone location like a hostage!

Me: I’ll check-in with you in an hour. If you don’t hear from me, you have my permission to talk to dad’s poker detective friend.

Mom: What if they take you out to international waters? What if they’re pirates?

Me: Love you, Mom.

I set a reminder to text her in 45 minutes. Knowing her, she wouldn’t wait the full hour before freaking out.

When I looked out the window again, I didn’t see the roads and buildings of the greater Providence area. There was only the endless blue of the ocean. I oriented myself; the sun was to our left, which meant we were flying south.

I hope my mom isn’t right. If I’m kidnapped and taken to international waters, she’ll never let me hear the end of it.

“Where are we going?” I asked calmly. At least, I hoped I sounded calm.

Andrew ran a hand through his wavy chestnut hair. “To the Bellerophon.”

“The what?”

“The Bellerophon is Mr. Benning’s ship.” He cocked his head at me curiously. “You still haven’t Googled him, have you?”

I stared at him for five long seconds, then pulled out my phone. By the time I had typed Pierce Benning into the search engine, it gave me a blank page. I no longer had cell signal.

“There’s Wi-Fi on the boat,” Andrew said, sensing why I was frowning. “We’re actually about to land.”

Sure enough, the sound of the engine changed pitch as the helicopter began descending. It turned, wheeling around in a circle, and I got a glimpse of the boat Andrew had referred to.

Except it wasn’t a boat.

It was a fucking mega-yacht.

The scale didn’t seem real until we drew closer. There was a helipad at one end of the yacht, but that circular space took up only a pinprick of the length of the ship. There were five floors—decks?—above the water line, and a huge swimming pool on the opposite end as the helipad. The name Bellerophon was written in cursive script on the side of the ship.

What kind of a name is that, anyway? I wondered. I started to pull out my phone to Google it, but then remembered that I had no signal.

The landing was so calm that I didn’t realize we had touched down until Andrew opened the door. I climbed out, ducking my head instinctively. Up ahead, next to a doorway leading into the interior of the ship, was another well-dressed man flanked by white-clad servants. He had short blond hair, perfectly combed, and his suit was slate-gray. Everything about him—from the brown dress shoes and matching belt, to the perfectly-arranged tie clip, to the gold cufflinks—spoke of a man who preferred everything proper and orderly.

Is this him? I wondered. Is this Pierce Benning?

Over to the right, there was another man standing on the edge of the yacht wearing nothing but tight board shorts. He was tan and had an array of tattoos down one arm, and was holding a wooden spear with a shiny bladed tip. He glanced over at the commotion on the helipad, but didn’t seem to care very much. Abruptly, he dove headfirst into the water, disappearing under the surface. I shuddered; I knew that the water off the coast of Rhode Island was frigid this time of year, and the swimmer wasn’t wearing a wet suit.

Back on the boat, the well-dressed man cleared his throat and said in a crisp English accent: “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Norris.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Benning,” I said, extending my hand.

The man chuckled softly as he shook my hand.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“The whole world,” he replied. “But especially what you just said.”

“This is Tristan Lowe, Mr. Benning’s personal assistant,” Andrew explained. The two of them embraced briefly, and then Andrew added, “Didn’t realize you were back so soon.”

“I finished up that nasty affair in London sooner than expected.” Tristan glanced at me with eyes so blue they were almost gray. “Besides, I would not miss today for all the tea in Boston harbor.”

Is he talking about me? Why would this be such a big deal to Mr. Benning’s personal assistant? Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Benning had been searching for a surrogate for longer than I thought.

Out on the water, fifty feet from the yacht, the man with the arm tattoos resurfaced with a splash. He raised the spear out of the water; three plump lobsters were skewered on the blade.

Must be nice to have servants to fish for your lunch on a whim, I thought.

“Come,” Tristan told me, gesturing with his palm in a precise manner. “Mr. Benning is waiting.”

Still wondering if this was a good idea or not, I allowed myself to be guided inside the yacht.

4

Melinda

From the helipad, we entered into an airy lounge with armchairs and small tables meant to hold drinks. A full bar occupied the entire wall ahead of us, complete with a white-clad bartender who was currently washing glasses with a rag.

“Welcome aboard the Bellerophon,” he said warmly. “Care for a drink?”

Although I could have used a stiff drink for courage, I replied, “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Right this way,” Tristan said, taking the lead down a hallway behind the bar. Andrew peeled off, leaving me alone with Tristan. Except as we navigated deeper into the yacht, we were never really alone. Servants in crisp white uniforms were everywhere: dusting oil paintings on the walls, restocking trays of candies, carrying crates of food. That helped defuse my anxiety a little bit. Nothing bad could happen to me with so many witnesses around.

Witnesses who work for Mr. and Mrs. Benning. If something happened, would they really cross someone who owned a fucking yacht?

“Andrew will give you a proper tour of the Bellerophon upon the conclusion of your business with Mr. Benning,” Tristan said in that posh English accent.

“This is just supposed to be a meet-and-greet,” I felt the need to point out. “I haven’t actually signed anything yet.”

“But you will,” Tristan said.

I hated the way he said it, like it was a foregone conclusion. As if I had no say in the matter.

“In fact, the parade of documents you must sign begins now,” Tristan said as we came to a small office room with a large window showing the ocean. He swept a piece of paper off the desk and handed it to me along with an expensive-looking Mont Blanc pen.

“What is it?” I asked.

“This is a standard non-disclosure agreement. I am certain you will find it quite straightforward. You may not disclose any of the specifics of your meeting with Mr. Benning, nor the details of the contracts you will be given.”

I stared skeptically at the page.

“The meeting cannot begin until this is signed,” Tristan said dryly, narrowing those blue-gray eyes. “If you are uncomfortable doing so, I will have Andrew return you to Providence.”

I skimmed the NDA. I wasn’t an expert in contract law, but it did seem straightforward. I placed the paper on the desk and signed it.

“Very good,” Tristan said. “Mr. Benning will see you now.”

The door he opened was dark wood carved with designs around the border. It was heavy, and thick, and as it opened I noticed several circular deadbolts set inside the lock. The interior appeared to be steel, like the door to a bank vault.

Inside was a large room that was part work space, part library. It took up the width of the yacht, with floor-to-ceiling windows on either side, although the curtains were currently drawn. Warm lamplight lit the room from recessed alcoves in the ceiling and floor. It reminded me of a cozy book store where I used to study when I was a student at Brown.

The drawn curtains concerned me. Once again, I wondered if I was about to be kidnapped and sold into the sex trade. I hoped my GPS location was still transmitting, despite the lack of cell signal.

At one end of the room was a large hearth with a gas fireplace, the flames flickering quietly. In front of that was a broad teak desk with a massive curved computer monitor. There was a man seated in a leather chair behind the monitor. When he saw me, he pressed a button and the huge computer screen descended into the desk out of sight, like a theater performer disappearing below stage. The man stood, a thoughtful expression on his face as he regarded me.

Pierce Benning.

The man I had come to meet wore slacks and a button-down, but no tie. His shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a little bit of his tan chest, and his sleeves were rolled up. After seeing Andrew and Tristan both wearing full suits, Pierce looked downright casual by comparison.

And there’s something familiar about him…

He was young—younger than I expected. Maybe late twenties, a few years older than me. And he was incredibly handsome. Alarmingly so. Sharp green eyes regarded me from above a prominent nose, and he had the jawline of a cologne model. Yet his broad shoulders spoke of an athletic upbringing. I wasn’t sure what I expected from someone who owned a yacht. He wasn’t scrawny like Mark Zuckerberg, or doughy like Elon Musk. This looked like a man who could throw on a uniform and play ninety minutes for Manchester United.

“Melinda Norris,” Pierce said in a smooth, deep voice. “I’ve waited quite some time to meet you.”

He was an American. I hadn’t realized it until that moment, but I expected him to be English, like Tristan.

“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk.

Despite his attractiveness and charm, there was something about his smile that rubbed me the wrong way. I realized what it was a second later: it reminded me of the Bobs at New England Digital Marketing. Wealthy men who were used to giving instructions and having them carried out without hesitation. I sat and tried to ignore the pang of anger that I felt.

“It hasn’t been very long,” I said.

Pierce Benning sat in his chair and cocked his head. “Pardon?”

“You and your wife couldn’t have waited a long time to meet me,” I said pointedly. “I was only added to the surrogacy database yesterday.”

He smiled as if that were funny. “You sent in your application to the agency two weeks ago.”

I felt another pang of annoyance. The agency sent him my information before I was officially approved and added as a potential surrogate? That felt like an intrusion of privacy.

Tristan appeared over my shoulder and placed two manila folders on the desk side-by-side. Why two?

“How was your trip here?” Pierce asked politely. “I trust Andrew took good care of you?”

“It was fine,” I replied, looking around. Where was his wife? Every surrogacy experience I had read about involved meeting the couple who I would be a surrogate for, not just the husband.

Pierce studied me from across the desk. There was an intense intelligence in his gaze. A calculating, methodical man.

Why does he look familiar?

“I don’t want to waste your time,” Pierce finally said, “so I’ll get right down to it. The folder on the left contains the standard commercial surrogacy contract from the agency. I’m sure you’re familiar with in-vitro fertilization. Your eggs will be harvested, inseminated with my sperm, and then the resulting embryos will be implanted in your uterus.”

I opened the folder and skimmed the first page of the document. My eyes automatically locked onto the dollar signs halfway down the page:

$15,000 upon implantation of embryos.

$30,000 upon successful pregnancy.

$60,000 upon birth of child.

I re-read the numbers two more times. I had expected to earn around $50,000 for the entire surrogacy, but this was more than twice that amount! Maybe the higher payment had to do with the NDA I signed, and the secrecy that this yacht-owning couple desired.

Suddenly, I stopped caring about how Pierce had access to my information before I was in the database. My instincts told me to sign the contract as quickly as possible before he and his wife changed their minds.

“This sounds good to me,” I said, reaching for a pen on the desk.

Pierce put his hand over mine to stop me. His fingers were strangely frigid. “Before you sign this contract, we have a second offer. If you’re willing to hear it.”

A second offer? Probably related to multiple pregnancies. It wasn’t uncommon for couples to use the same surrogate again after the first pregnancy.

“Okay,” I said slowly.

Tristan leaned over my shoulder and pulled the second folder closer to me. The scent of his cologne hung in the air, subtle yet alluring.

“This contract is…” Pierce crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands over his knee, searching around for the right word. “Unorthodox,” he finally said.

Only then, with his hands clasped over his knee, did I realize two things. Firstly: he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. I hadn’t imagined unmarried couples trying surrogacy, but then again, someone with this much money could do whatever they wanted.

Secondly, I noticed the tattoos running up his forearm.

“You’re the fishing guy!” I blurted out.

“Fishing guy?” Tristan asked, as if he had never heard either word spoken before.

“When we landed on the boat. You were the guy diving into the ocean with a spear. You caught three lobsters.”

“Four,” Pierce replied with a small smile. “I caught a live one with my bare hand.”

“You own this yacht, but you catch your own meals?”

Pierce’s emerald gaze narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

Tristan cleared his throat. “May I suggest we return to the subject at hand? The second contract.”

I looked back down at the contract, though I wanted to continue examining the strange billionaire across the desk. “You said this contract is unorthodox. What’s unorthodox about it?” I asked. The stack of papers inside looked thicker than the first, so I didn’t bother opening the folder. “Is it the payout structure?”

Pierce exchanged a look with Tristan, who was still standing next to the desk, watching passively.

“Not exactly,” Pierce said slowly. He maintained an intense amount of eye-contact, but I refused to look away. I wouldn’t be intimidated by someone just because they had money. “I know quite a few people who have tried, and failed, at surrogacy.”

“It’s not a guarantee,” I said. “Surrogacy success rates are around 75%, I’ve come to learn.”

Pierce nodded. “In addition, I believe there are other drawbacks to IVF pregnancies. I won’t elaborate on my opinion at this time. But the point I’m driving at is that everything is so artificial these days.”

“Artificial?”

“Nothing is real anymore,” Pierce explained, his deep voice full of emotion. “Everything is a pale imitation of how it used to be. Instead of getting together in person with friends, we interact on social media. Rather than going for a jog through a neighborhood, we run on treadmills with computer screens to pretend like we’re actually moving. We have pills to fall asleep, pills to keep us awake, pills to get our dicks hard. Vitamin-D supplements instead of time in the sun. Multivitamins instead of a balanced diet.”

He shook his head and stared off. “Nothing is real anymore. And it gets worse every single day.” It sounded like the kind of rant he’d made before, every beat and emphasis well-practiced.

“I don’t disagree, I guess,” I replied carefully. “But what does this have to do with me?”

Pierce let out a long breath, and regarded me once more. “With so much falseness in the world, I don’t want my child’s life to begin artificially. I want my child to be conceived naturally.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in.

“Wait, what?”

I heard the door behind me open, and Andrew walked in with a tray of drinks.

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

“You will find that I am, if nothing else, a serious man,” Pierce replied dryly. “All the details are contained in the second contract.”

Tristan reached out and tapped the folder for emphasis.

And in the blink of an eye, all of it made sense. The lack of a wedding ring. All the mentions of Mr. Benning, but never Mrs. Benning. Being flown onto a goddamn yacht off the coast of Rhode Island. He wasn’t trying to impress me because I was a potential surrogate: he was trying to impress me because he wanted to sleep with me.

I turned to Andrew, who was placing glasses of cucumber water onto coasters on the desk. “You flew me here to be a glorified prostitute for this man?”

He chuckled. “That seems like an oversimplification…”

Oh my God, I thought. My mom was right. This was a mistake.

“I warned you that this was an unorthodox proposal,” Pierce said.

“It’s more than unorthodox,” I shot back. “It’s fucking insane!”

“Such language,” Tristan murmured.

I whirled toward the man, my anger rising.

“If you choose the second contract,” Pierce continued, “you will stay with me for a period of six months, or until such a time that you become pregnant, whichever comes first. There is also an option to extend this period to twelve months.”

“Staying with you?” I stammered. “On your yacht?”

“And my other residences, yes,” Pierce answered. “I have several trips planned in the next six months. You will, of course, accompany me wherever I go.”

“Oh, of course,” I said sarcastically. “What about my apartment? Or my job? You just expect me to drop everything to follow you around to all your rich-person places?”

Pierce gave me a small smile. “Rich-person places. I like that.”

“You are currently unemployed,” Tristan said formally. “And as for your apartment, we will take care of all financial responsibilities you may have for the duration of the contract. Any belongings you may need will be retrieved from your apartment in Fox Point. We have men prepared to gather such things once the contract is signed.”

“Men?” I blurted out. “What do you mean, you have men prepared? Like, you just have men on retainer ready to loot my apartment? To sift through my underwear drawer like perverts?”

Tristan cleared his throat. “I use the term men in the colloquial sense. I can assure you it will be a woman who handles all of your clothing arrangements, both at your apartment and anything else that needs to be acquired at a later time.”

I tried not to laugh in their faces. This was unbelievable. I felt like I was being pranked, but even this scenario seemed too outrageous for that. Pierce was calmly staring at me from across the desk as if this was all normal.

But what frustrated me the most was how they all acted like it was a foregone conclusion. That I was guaranteed to sign the contract. Like I had no say in the matter. My anger continued to rise, and I finally let some of it out.

“You picked me out of the database like a mail-order bride. You did it before I was even in the database! What about me caught your attention? Did you like my hair?” I gave it a toss. “Is it my tits you want to fuck? Huh?”

“This has nothing to do with sex,” Pierce said calmly. Too calmly.

I smacked the second folder with my palm. “Apparently, it has everything to do with sex! So what was it? What drew you to me? Have you had your men stalking me for the past two weeks, snapping photos whenever I bend over?”

“You graduated summa cum laude from Brown with a double-major in Business Administration and Marketing. You were a walk-on for the Brown women’s soccer team, and were a starting forward all four years. In high school, you were a varsity athlete in soccer, softball, basketball, and golf.”

The sudden flurry of information caught me off guard. “I never got my varsity letter in basketball. I was splitting time with soccer, and never played a full season.”

“You played a full season your sophomore year,” Tristan corrected from his place next to the desk. “However, your coach chose not to award you a varsity letter upon the conclusion of the season.”

“Thanks for telling me my own history, creep,” I muttered.

“Apparently, your basketball coach didn’t like your attitude,” Pierce said.

I turned back to him. “It’s just as creepy when you do it, no matter how much money you have.”

Pierce spread his large hands. “Nevertheless, we are answering your question. This was why I chose you to be my surrogate. You’re incredibly intelligent. You are fiercely independent. You’re elite at a number of sports. You have no family history of heart disease, dementia, or diabetes. And, to put it bluntly, you’re attractive. You’re the perfect surrogate for my future child.”

I ignored the pulse of satisfaction that came from the flattery. “And there’s no Mrs. Benning involved in all of this?”

“I am unmarried,” Pierce confirmed. “The child will be mine alone.”

I made myself smile cruelly. “Can’t find a woman to be the mother of your children, even though you’re so rich you have your own yacht? Not a good sign, if you ask me.”

“I can see what your basketball coach thought about your attitude,” Tristan said curtly.

I laughed bitterly. “This is really happening? You’re serious?”

“As I said: I am a serious man,” Pierce replied coolly.

“I didn’t come here to be a glorified prostitute,” I said.

“Then you are quite welcome to choose the first, more traditional, contract.” Tristan slid the first folder closer, as if I couldn’t tell which he meant. “And we will be perfectly happy with that. But I think you will find the second contract far more lucrative.”

“I don’t care.”

Tristan coughed, flipped open the folder, and pointed to a line halfway down the page.

“I said I don’t care,” I repeated. And I meant it. I didn’t want to be a part of whatever this situation was, no matter how much money they offered. But my eyes locked onto his finger automatically, and I saw the number.

A big number.

A seven digit number. The kind with two commas.

It was an order of magnitude more than the first contract. More money than I had ever had in my life. It was certainly enough to start my own marketing company to compete with the Bobs. Hell, it was almost enough to retire on!

I glanced up at Pierce, who was still staring back at me calmly. He was undeniably attractive. Hell, he was fucking hot. If I was being completely honest with myself, he was the kind of guy I’d hook up with on Tinder for free, even without all the helicopters and yachts and money. To be paid to do it? It was a no-brainer, no matter how crazy the situation seemed.

But I kept thinking about my old partners. The Bobs. They had that same confidence that bordered on cockiness. They walked around and made demands as if the world was their birthright. That was bad enough. Yet to have the same attitude about a woman, as if my body could be purchased at the market…

So despite the good looks, despite the charm, despite the huge fucking dollar amount on the second contract, I shook my head.

“No.”

“No?” Pierce asked.

“I won’t do it. I won’t sign this deal.”

Pierce and Tristan exchanged a look. “If it’s the price that’s holding you back…”

“I don’t have to tell you my reason. My answer is a firm no.”

Pierce sighed. He looked genuinely disappointed. “Very well. I’m sorry to hear that. Tristan, you may dispose of the second contract. Once we sign the first one, we can begin—”

“No,” I cut in, savoring the surprised look on both their faces. “You’ve misunderstood me. I’m not signing either contract. You can find another surrogate.”

I stood and started to leave.

“Wait!” Pierce was on his feet too, extending a hand toward me. “I don’t understand.”

“Good,” I replied. It felt good to be in control. I was probably the first person to say no to this man in a very long time.

“Tell me why.” It was a polite request, not a demand. Curious, not outraged. “Why say no to both contracts without at least thinking about it?”

I didn’t have to tell him anything. My instincts were screaming at me to walk out of the office with the bank-vault door, to go up on deck where there was fresh air, and take the helicopter to freedom. If they would let me. But the feeling of putting this rich asshole in his place was too tempting, too delicious.

“Because you’re a fraud,” I said.

Pierce blinked. “A fraud.”

I rounded on him and smiled cruelly. “You complain about the modern world, and yearn for when things were simpler, but nothing about you is simple. You’re surrounded by servants. I counted at least a dozen on the way here, not to mention your valet, which by the way is a weird way to pronounce it. You used your connections to get access to my file before it was in the surrogacy database. You sent a fucking helicopter to pick me up! Without warning! And now I’m here, on your yacht, in the middle of the goddamn ocean, because you presumably think that will convince me to sign your contract with a way-too-big number on it. You want your child to be conceived naturally? Look around you! None of this is natural. And I’m willing to bet nothing in your life is.”

And with that, I walked out of the room.

Nobody tried to stop me.

5

Melinda

My pulse was everywhere, pounding in my neck and temple and chest. The rush of adrenaline was incredible. It felt so good to tell off that billionaire! What was he thinking, offering to pay me for sex? As if I were a literal prostitute?

As I walked out into the small office anteroom, I expected guards to grab me and haul me back inside. To hold me against my will. Or worse. Could a billionaire kill someone and get away with it? If anyone could, it was a man like Pierce Benning. Stabbed with the lobster spear and tossed overboard.

Nobody tried to stop me. I actually got lost walking back to the deck with the helipad. Yes, this yacht was so large I actually got lost. After a staircase and two turns, I ended up in the kitchen. Delicious smells bombarded me: freshly baked bread, roasted meat, vegetables soaked in butter and garlic. Three cooks were working at once, stirring pans and chopping with knives without looking up at me.

“Looking for the helicopter?” Andrew asked behind me.

“No,” I said stubbornly. After a pause, I added, “Okay, yes. This place is a floating maze.”

Andrew chuckled and gestured with his head. “This way.”

“You’re not going to try to stop me?”

He gave me a confused look. “You’re a free woman. We brought you here in good faith, and we’ll take you home the same.”

“Good.”

“You didn’t think we were, like, kidnapping you,” Andrew asked. “Did you?”

“No. Not really.”

“We would never hold you against your will,” Andrew said. “Mr. Benning only kidnaps brunettes.”

I missed a step, stumbling in surprise.

“That was a joke,” Andrew said, continuing to lead me down a hallway.

“All of this is a joke,” I muttered. “A weird, cruel joke.”

“I’m sorry you see it that way.”

The wind whipped my hair around as we walked out onto the helipad. I hurried into the open door of the helicopter as if I expected it to leave without me at any minute. Andrew followed, climbed inside, and closed the door.

“So,” Andrew said when the helicopter was airborne. “Why’d you turn down the offer?”

“Because I won’t have sex for money,” I said, as if it were obvious. Hell it should have been obvious.

“That explains why you turned down the second contract,” Andrew pointed out. “But not the first.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“No, you don’t,” he agreed with a shrug and a smile. Once again, I found myself liking him… and then immediately becoming suspicious of that feeling.

A long silence stretched as the helicopter wheeled around, then headed north. Andrew didn’t push me for an answer. But my heart was still pounding, and I wanted to vent to someone.

“I just got fired from a job,” I explained. “I guess you guys already know that. Tristan seemed to know everything about me. But I was working with two wealthy guys to start this marketing company from scratch. The focus of the company was digital avenues, like social media. Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Twitter. Lots of viral strategies. It was the perfect job for me.”

“Sounds like it,” Andrew said.

“Until,” I said, “just before my contract was about to vest, they fired me. I lost out on all the company equity I was supposed to earn.”

Andrew tilted his head. “You didn’t build in a clause to account for the possibility that they would fire you to prevent your shares from vesting.” It was a statement, not a question. But he said it gently.

“I was dumb,” I admitted.

“So now you’re afraid of contracts? That’s why you said no? Because I can assure you, you’ll have to sign one no matter who you choose to be a surrogate for.”

“It’s not the contract,” I replied. “It’s him. Pierce Benning. He reminds me of the fucking Bobs.”

“The Bobs?”

“The two partners I was working with. They’re both named Bob. They’re rich, and confident, and act like everything belongs to them.”

Andrew frowned slightly. “Mr. Benning was nothing but pleasant and polite to you.”

“Exactly! The Bobs were the same way. Acting like they’re friendly and reasonable, but I can tell it’s just for show. It always is.”

“I can assure you,” Andrew said, dark eyes gleaming as a beam of sunlight hit them through the window, “it’s not the case here. Mr. Benning is a good man. A great man.”

“You’re paid to say that.”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, I guess I am. But in this case, it’s the truth. Mr. Benning pays me a lot of money to be his valet. I’ve done it for years. I could quit my job right now and never have to work another day in my life.”

I blinked. “Then why don’t you?”

“Because working for Mr. Benning is fulfilling. He’s a great man, as I said. I’m never bored, and I get to travel the world. I don’t know what I would do with myself if I retired, but I know it wouldn’t be as exciting as working for him. Honestly, no matter how much money I earn, I’ll probably keep working for him until the day I die.”

“Okay, so he’s nice to his servants,” I said. “He’s still insanely wealthy. Probably a billionaire. Nobody gets to the level of yacht-rich without exploiting people.”

Andrew smiled. “You really don’t know who he is.”

I waved my phone. “I still don’t have a signal. But I can guess. He’s young, so he probably made his money in a Ponzi scheme like crypto, or NFTs. Or maybe he’s the son of an oil baron. Inherited all his money. Either way, he’s not someone I want to be involved with. And definitely not someone whose child I want to carry—no matter how I’m impregnated.”

For a while the only sound was the dim hum of the engine. Andrew stared at me calmly.

“Do you want to know the answer,” he asked, “or are you happy with your assumptions?”

I shrugged. “You can say whatever you want. It won’t change my mind.”

“Mr. Benning didn’t come from wealth. He got a full ride at Dartmouth to play soccer. He triple-majored in Computer Science, Chemical Engineering, and European History. While at school, he founded his first tech company. Something to do with efficient data encryption. He sold the company to Google before his senior year. Then he took that money and spent two years developing a more efficient way to capture carbon emissions from coal and natural gas power plants.”

I barked a laugh. “So he’s helping keep the fossil fuel industry afloat by capturing a tiny fraction of their emissions to make it look like they care about the environment? That’s not exactly something to brag about.”

“Mr. Benning thought so, too,” Andrew replied smoothly. “After selling out to Big Oil, he spent the next four years developing a lithium-alloy battery for electric vehicles, more dense than anything else on the market. He sold his battery tech to the big three auto manufacturers, then developed another battery that was cheaper and even more efficient. But instead of selling this new tech, he promptly made the patent public for anyone to develop. That battery is now used in every electric vehicle in the world. Well, except in India. They have their own proprietary tech they’re using for some reason.”

“I…” I made myself shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure he has skeletons in his closet. Everyone with this much wealth does.”

Andrew shrugged again. “If you say so. There are a lot of closets on this boat.”

He chuckled at the joke. I didn’t acknowledge it.

My phone abruptly chirped with a flurry of messages. I had signal again.

Mom: I’m worried about you, Mel. I don’t like you jumping into things like this. You’re too impulsive.

Mom: And now you’re not responding.

Mom: I’m going to call the police.

Mom: Seriously, I’ll call them. I don’t want to be that woman on the evening news who says she could have done more.

Me: I’m fine! It’s only been thirty minutes.

Mom: Thirty VERY LONG minutes. You know how I worry.

Me: Yes, I do. You can stop worrying now. Everything is good. I’m on my way home. I’ll check-in when I land.

The idea of going home filled me with disappointment, but I ignored it and checked the next text.

Sarah: Hi Melinda, this is Sarah Pallas from the agency. I just wanted to reach out to you about your meeting today! I’m thrilled Mr. Benning selected you from the database. He’s been with us for over a year, and you’re the first candidate he was satisfied with. Rumor has it he is willing to offer more than the standard contract, too. You’re so lucky! Let me know if you have any questions about anything, or if I can help you along with the process. We have a lawyer on retainer who would be more than happy to go over the paperwork with you. We want to make sure both our surrogates and our clients are 100% satisfied with their partnership!

Me: Thanks Sarah, I’ll let you know if I need anything.

I frowned at the text. I wondered if Sarah knew about Mr. Benning’s special offer. Probably not. It was tempting to notify her about it, despite the NDA I had signed. The surrogate agency was probably exempt from that.

When I glanced up, I saw Andrew giving me a boyish smile. Like he knew what the text message from Sarah said.

I frowned harder and Googled Pierce Benning. I quickly realized that everything Andrew said was true. Pierce grew up in a trailer park, and learned to play soccer from his Latino neighbors. He was a wunderkind at Dartmouth, graduating in only three years despite the workload from his triple major and athletic requirements. He set the Dartmouth single-season scoring record, and would have broken the all-time school record if he had remained at school for the fourth year.

I skipped all the info about his first company and the sale to Google and went straight to the carbon capturing technology. Sure enough, he pissed off several coal companies when he used the money from the sale to develop electric vehicle batteries, so much so that the Governor of West Virginia issued a statement saying that Mr. Benning was not welcome in the state.

Beyond that, he was involved in dozens of charities. The Google Image tab was full of photos of Pierce holding giant checks for Doctors Without Borders, Project Smile, The Free Water Project, and countless more. On the Google News tab, there were hundreds of articles written about him. Many journalists called him a real-life Tony Stark. Dolly Parton, who worked with him on a number of charities, was quoted as saying, “Oh I just love Pierce to death, even though he keeps declining my marriage proposals.” A quote from a New England politician stuck out to me: “Pierce Benning is the only moral billionaire on earth.”

Realizing that my jaw was hanging open, I closed it and kept reading.

Andrew answered a phone call. “Yeah, we’re still in the air. Yes. That’s correct. Okay.” He chuckled. “She’s fine. I think she’s Googling you right now.”

“No I’m not,” I lied.

Andrew listened to the call for a few more seconds, then covered the phone with his palm. “Mr. Benning would like you to know he’s doubling the offer.”

I gave a start. “Which offer?”

“Both.”

I started to laugh, but Andrew’s dark eyes were boring into me. He was serious.

Glancing out the window at the blue water, I allowed myself to think about the offers again. That much money—even from the first contract—would be life-changing. That capital would allow me to start my own company, hiring additional help right out of the gate. I would be able to put the Bobs out of business in months, not years.

Now that the helicopter was flying north toward Providence, it felt like a massive opportunity was slipping through my fingers. The kind of opportunity that only came once, if it ever came at all.

“He’s waiting for your answer,” Andrew said. “I don’t want to rush you, but Mr. Benning’s time is extremely valuable.”

“I’m sure it is,” I muttered, staring out the window again. The Rhode Island shore appeared in the distance, leading into the mouth of the Providence River. In a few minutes, I would be back in my car and driving home.

But driving home to what?

“Ms. Norris?” Andrew said politely. “Melinda?”

“Okay,” I said, leaning into the fear I felt. “I’ll accept his offer.”

Andrew looked relieved. “Which offer?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

And that was the honest truth: I had no idea what I was going to do.

6

Tristan

“She does not want to be here,” I insisted.

My tone had steadily risen over the course of the discussion. I would not call it an argument. Not yet. But it was becoming more heated with every passing moment, and I wondered how much further I could push. There were only a few men in the world who could challenge Pierce once he had made a decision. I was unfortunate enough to be one of them. In fact, Pierce trusted me precisely because of it.

“She’s the one,” Pierce reiterated while typing away at his laptop.

“I’ve never known you to be a man who believes in fate.”

“I didn’t say she was fate,” Pierce replied, like a debate champion arguing a specific point. “I said she is the one. As in, the one ideal candidate we have been waiting for. I have searched through countless surrogates this past year, Tristan. I’ve been patient. Now that I have found her, the woman who will bear my child, I will not give up so easily.”

“On paper, I agree with your assessment,” I said carefully. “However, her demeanor is far from ideal. We need someone who is enthusiastic about the agreement, not someone who needs convincing. If she is here half-heartedly, it will only upset everyone involved.”

“I do not disagree.”

“Then why did you double the offer?”

Pierce stopped typing to gaze up at me. Those green eyes had intimidated countless CEOs and world leaders. I was one of the few people immune to his stare.

“Her demeanor is not a negative trait, as you seem to think. It is one of the reasons I chose her. She is an impulsive woman, and not easily intimidated. I don’t want a sycophant who fawns over me to carry my child, Tristan. I want someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to a man like me.”

I had known Pierce long enough to see he would not budge. I dipped my head in acceptance.

Pierce turned back to his laptop. “Please make her feel welcome when she returns.”

I stiffened. “I would never do otherwise.”

As I exited Pierce’s office, I could not help but feel annoyed. This woman had to be convinced to be Pierce Benning’s surrogate? To be taken care of and pampered for months, living the life of a billionaire? Basically a six-month vacation without any responsibility, and given significant monetary compensation for the privilege?

Pierce may have been attracted to her stubbornness, but I disliked uncertainty. We needed a candidate who was eager. Enthusiastic. I suspected Andrew felt the same.

Yet this was Pierce’s decision. We all served at his pleasure.

I exited out into the open ocean air just as the helicopter was descending for the second time that morning. I felt a sense of deja vu as the door opened and she stepped out, ducking her head as she passed beneath the rotors.

“Welcome back,” I said dryly.

Melinda rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to act so smug about it.”

“Let me assure you: I am not feeling smug about any of this,” I replied curtly.

“So you have resting smug face. I don’t know if that’s better, or worse.”

“Better, surely.”

“If you say so.”

“Right this way,” I said, leading her back down into the depths of the yacht. The other servants aboard the Bellerophon glanced up at her in passing. I wondered what they were thinking about the situation. None of them would know the reason Ms. Norris was here, but they would be curious indeed to see a visitor land a second time so soon after the first.

“Here are the two contracts,” I said, once we had arrived in the smaller study. “If you have any concerns or questions, I am at your disposal.”

She sat down and opened the first, more traditional, contract. “You’ve updated the contract with the new offer.”

“I printed new copies, yes.”

“Is that what the personal assistant to a billionaire does?” she asked without looking up. “Running to and from the printer?”

“I handle a number of tasks for Mr. Benning, both great and small.”

“I’m guessing this falls into the latter category.”

“On the contrary,” I replied. “This is of the utmost importance to Mr. Benning. That is why I am here to answer your questions instead of a member of his legal team.”

Melinda grunted at that as she read the contract. Then she closed the folder, slid it away, and opened the second offer.

“What happens if I don’t get pregnant?” she asked.

“You have the option to renew the contract for a second six-month period, or leave. In either case, you will still be paid the base sum listed on page two.”

“I don’t see any requirements listed in here.”

“Requirements?”

“Sexual requirements,” she said bluntly. “It doesn’t say how often I need to sleep with Mr. Benning.”

I shook my head. “Everything is consensual, of course. There are no quotas or specific requirements surrounding the conception of Mr. Benning’s hypothetical child.”

Melinda looked up at me. “So I could sign the contract, refuse to sleep with him, and relax here and collect the money when the six months is up?”

“If you were so inclined, yes.”

She frowned at the page.

“I want to talk to a lawyer,” she said after another moment.

“Of course. I’m sure you do not want a repeat of what happened at New England Digital Marketing.”

Melinda gave a start at that. “You know about that?”

“We do our research, Ms. Norris.”

“God, please don’t call me that. Melinda is fine.”

“Whatever you would like, Melinda.” I gestured. “There is a laptop waiting in the lounge on the first deck. It has digital copies of the contracts on them, which you can send to your attorney, as well as a VPN-protected connection for any phone calls you may need to make. I will be waiting here when you are done.”

Melinda got up, then hesitated. “Can you show me how to get to the lounge?”

I smiled. “It is a very large ship. Right this way.”

I led her back down the hall and up the stairs. When we reached the open-air lounge, she turned around and squinted at me.

“Why do you work for Pierce?” she demanded.

“I do not see how that is relevant to the present contract negotiation.”

“It’s relevant because your boss is asking me to do something insane,” she replied. “People seem to like him, but that’s easy to fake. You, however, see him all the time. You know the real Pierce Benning. Tell me why you work for him, or I’m not signing anything.” She emphasized the point by tapping me on the chest with a finger.

I sighed. She was stubborn. “Mr. Benning and I were roommates at university.”

“That tells me how you know him, but not why you work for him. And please don’t insult me by saying money. Give me a real answer.”

As the personal assistant for a billionaire, I rarely had to talk about myself. People saw me as an extension of Pierce Benning himself. An avatar sent out to do his bidding. Melinda’s question took me by surprise. I was not sure how to answer it; I did not have a rehearsed response prepared.

I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wouldn’t budge. It was the same expression Pierce, himself, so often wore. So I decided to tell her the truth.

“There are few great men in history,” I explained. “And when I say great, I truly mean great. Alexander. Julius Caesar. Napoleon. These men warp the air around them, changing lives as they go. Sweeping up men and women in their wake. Those who are swept up by such men are lucky, truly lucky in a way that is difficult to understand.

“Well, I have found my Caesar,” I said proudly. “And it is to him that I have hitched my wagon, so to speak. I have been alongside him for all of his ventures thus far in life, and my life is better for it. Whatever else he does in this life, I do not intend to miss. That is why I work with Mr. Benning,” I finished. “With him. Not for him. Are you satisfied by this answer?”

“I am,” she said in a thoughtful voice.

I gestured at the laptop in the lounge. “Please do not hesitate to call for me if you need anything else. Oh, and do remember the NDA you signed. You can discuss these contracts with your attorney, of course. But if you gossip about it with anyone else, I can assure you that Mr. Benning’s team of lawyers is quite ruthless.”

I was still annoyed by the situation as I returned below deck. I still believed, firmly, that we needed a surrogate who was enthusiastic about these offers. But I could not dispel a new feeling. A feeling about Melinda Norris herself. The way she looked, her charm, and even that stubbornness that reminded me so much of Pierce himself.

Andrew was right. There is something about her. Something special.

7

Melinda

Using a phone program on the laptop, I called my lawyer and let her know that I had some time-sensitive documents for her to review. It felt good to be contacting her about something positive, rather than the mess with the Bobs two weeks ago.

“You caught me at a good time,” she said. “I’ll review these immediately and call you back shortly.”

While I waited, I used the laptop to do some other research on Pierce Benning. I knew that the internet traffic was probably monitored on this device, but I didn’t care. Of course I was researching Pierce Benning. He was a fucking billionaire, and I was about to sign a contract to carry his baby.

Most of what I found about him was positive. The only negative opinions came from people who were clearly biased, or from talking-head contrarians who wanted to go against popular opinion. One thing was consistent, however: everyone wanted to know what his next big venture was. The rumors were already circulating: self-driving cars, artificial intelligence, even nanobot technology.

It was all speculation, though. There wasn’t any hard information. Which, of course, made people speculate even more.

The bartender offered me a drink, so I accepted a Coke. It was delivered in a glass etched with the name Bellerophon. When I Googled the ship name, I was sent to a Wikipedia article about Bellerophon, a Greek demi-god famous for slaying monsters like the chimera.

I laughed out loud at that. Such a cocky thing to name your yacht after. All billionaires saw themselves as monster-slaying gods.

Knowing that I probably had a dozen more texts waiting for me when I got cell service, I decided to use the computer’s built-in Google phone to call my mom.

“Oh thank God,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve been texting and calling you for hours.”

“It’s been, like, half an hour since I texted you,” I replied. “You always exaggerate.”

“You’ve potentially been kidnapped, and yet I’m the one exaggerating? You never call. You always text. That’s how I know something’s wrong.”

“Everything is fine, Mom. That’s why I called you: so you could hear my voice. This is an amazing opportunity, mom. I might be the surrogate for a man who—”

“A man?” Mom interrupted. “Not a couple?”

“You’re twisting my words around.”

“Who is it? What opportunity are they offering? Is it better than a normal surrogate contract?”

I started to answer, then remembered the NDA. “That’s the thing, Mom. I can’t really tell you.”

“It’s so bad you can’t even tell your poor mother?”

“I signed an NDA,” I replied. “I’ll explain more when I can, I promise. But I wanted to call to let you know not to worry. You don’t have to call the police.”

There was a pregnant silence on the line.

“Maybe I should reach out to that Pawtucket detective your father plays poker with…”

“Do not do that,” I quickly said. “I have to go. But trust me: this is a good thing.”

When I hung up, I realized that I wasn’t just saying whatever I needed to calm my mom down. This was a good thing. It was an amazing opportunity. Once I pushed aside my emotions and thought about it objectively, I knew this was the chance of a lifetime. For the money being offered, it would be stupid not to at least sign the contract to become a traditional surrogate for Pierce Benning.

And the other offer…

For a brief moment, I let myself consider it. Really consider it, along with all the spicy details. It was scandalous. The kind of thing I never would have imagined being offered, let alone accept. In a way, that made the whole situation kind of appealing, like a forbidden fantasy that I never really expected to happen.

But it ultimately didn’t matter. There was no way I was going to choose the second contract. I wasn’t a prostitute. I barely knew this man, aside from a few minutes of Googling. And even if I wanted to make that deal with him, the contract probably wasn’t legally enforceable.

My lawyer called the line on the laptop. “This is Melinda.”

“The contracts are legitimate,” she said, sounding surprised. “They’re actually more favorable to you than to Mr. Benning. I don’t see a way for this to bite you in the ass.”

“Really?” I replied. “Both of them are legitimate, even the… more complicated contract?”

“You mean the one paying you for sex?” she said bluntly. “If he was requiring you to sleep with him, there would be a whole slew of problems. But it’s all voluntary.”

“So I could agree to that contract, hold out for six months, and then collect the money,” I said.

“I mean, yeah, you could. But there are a lot of bonus incentives if you do get pregnant, and even more if the baby is carried to term. By the end of this, you’ll be a rich woman.”

“You’re acting like this is a no-brainer.”

“It kind of is.” My lawyer chuckled. “Listen, I’m not the type of person who is going to tell you what to do. But this isn’t some wrinkly old octogenarian. We’re talking about Pierce Benning.”

“So you’d heard about him before I sent you the contract?”

“Heard about him? Honestly Melinda, I’m shocked you hadn’t. He dated Taylor Swift.”

I gave a start. “He did?”

“Not officially. Only rumors. Point is, I would sleep with this guy for free. Heck, I would throw my elderly grandma down a flight of stairs to get a chance with him. And yes, that’s my legal opinion.”

After hanging up, I sipped my Coke and opened my calendar. Even though I was technically unemployed, I had plans in the next six months. My sister’s wedding was coming up this summer. I had joined an intramural soccer team, and intended to play most of the season until I got pregnant. I was supposed to babysit my nine-year-old cousin for a week; I was taking him to Acadia National Park up in Maine. As alluring as the second contract was, I couldn’t drop everything to follow a billionaire around for half a year.

Tristan was right where I had left him, in the small office anteroom to Pierce’s larger office. “I see you found your way back here without any assistance,” he said in that proper English accent.

“Third time’s a charm. I’ve made my decision.”

One of his blond eyebrows rose in surprise. “And which contract shall we be signing today?”

“I’ve decided on… the first contract,” I said. “Traditional surrogacy.”

To my surprise, Tristan looked disappointed. “Very well. Please follow me.”

Rather than opening the door to the larger office, Tristan went back down the hallway and up the stairs. A pang of fear gripped my chest. Had this all been a test? Was he sending me home because I didn’t choose the sexy contract?

“Where are we going?”

“To see Mr. Benning.”

“He’s not in his office?”

“He’s taking in the afternoon on the sun deck,” Tristan replied.

“Oh, of course. The sun deck,” I muttered.

We reached the level with the lounge and laptop, but instead of walking out to the helipad, we made a U-turn and walked beyond the bar, out toward the front of the boat. There was a long swimming pool, the kind made for swimming laps, with several pool chairs arrayed along one side.

Tristan was laying flat on one of the chairs. He wore only a pair of black swim trunks with white stitching, different than when I’d seen him hunting lobster. His hands were folded behind his head, which made the muscles in his tattooed arms really stand out. In fact, all of his muscles were standing out in stark contrast in the late-morning sun, every ripple and bulge accentuated by his tan.

Jesus, I can see what my lawyer meant. Pierce is hot.

“Ms. Norris has made a decision,” Tristan announced.

Pierce turned toward me, eyes unreadable behind his mirrored Ray Ban sunglasses. I noticed that even those bore the name Bellerophon on the side. “And what has she decided?”

Tristan opened his mouth to respond.

“The second contract,” I blurted out.

Tristan swung his head toward me, eyes wide with alarm.

“I’ve chosen the second contract,” I said. “The one with… natural conception.”

8

Melinda

After giving my answer, I felt just as surprised as Tristan seemed. I hadn’t intended to say that. Minutes ago, when I was sitting in front of the laptop after talking to my lawyer, I was positive that the first contract was the right one.

“Are you certain?” Pierce asked calmly. He seemed like the only one who wasn’t surprised.

I slowly nodded. “I am. Let’s sign.” I extended my hand.

Bubbly abdominal muscles contracted as Pierce sat up. He removed his glasses, revealing that cold green gaze. For a few seconds, I got the impression that he could read my mind. That he was peering directly into my soul.

Then he reached out and shook my hand. His palm, warm from the sun, totally enveloped mine. The brief physical contact felt strangely innocent compared to what I was really agreeing to. An appetizer compared to a full meal. Despite the warm air, a shiver of excitement went up my spine.

“What made you change your mind?” he asked, still clasping my hand.

“The money,” I replied without hesitation.

“That’s all it took?” he asked, smiling slightly. “An hour ago, you had a lot of very hurtful things to say about me.”

“Money has a way of making people forget what they’ve said.”

He let go of my hand. “You Googled me, didn’t you.”

“No!”

That green gaze bore into me.

“Okay, yes, I Googled you,” I admitted. Shit, why was it so hard to lie to him? “I’ll admit that my opinion of you was mistaken.”

Pierce smiled fully. “Apology accepted.”

“That wasn’t an apology!”

He leaned back on the chair to resume sunbathing. “Okay.”

“It wasn’t,” I insisted. “I changed my opinion based on new information. I don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“A stubborn distinction,” Tristan muttered. He glanced at the folder in his hand as if it were a nuisance. “If you will wait here, I need to retrieve the other contract.”

“You brought the wrong one?” Pierce asked.

“It appears so.” Tristan gave me a pointed look, then walked away.

Leaving me and Pierce alone on the sun deck.

I forced myself to turn away and gaze out at the water, to keep my eyes from lingering on his shirtless body. It was strange seeing a billionaire with tattoos covering one arm, but I had to admit: it fit him. I had never been a sucker for guys with ink, but it added to the overall allure of the man.

“You’re welcome to sit,” he said behind me.

“I’m fine standing,” I replied.

As I gazed out at the water, I thought about what had just happened. I had changed my mind in the spur of the moment. That wasn’t like me. Sometimes I was impulsive, but once I made a logical decision—which I had done in this case—I usually stuck with it.

Was it really because I saw him shirtless up close? Was that all it took for me to sell out—six-pack abs and a good tan? The prospect annoyed me. I thought I was above that. Men were the ones who allowed their private parts to lead them around, not women.

But after making my choice, I didn’t regret it. Not even a little bit. If anything, I felt excited about the second contract. It was going to make me a rich woman.

Six months with Pierce Benning, living the life of a billionaire. Then I’ll be able to do whatever I want for the rest of my life. Money was freedom, and freedom sounded really good right about now.

After I get pregnant. There was that complication, of course.

“I’m glad you chose the second contract,” Pierce said from the chair.

“Why is that?” I asked.

His eyes were unreadable behind his mirrored lenses. “Because it’s the smart decision. It’s a good deal.”

Because you think you get to fuck me, now.

“A good deal,” I repeated.

One of Pierce’s dark eyebrows rose slightly. “You disagree?”

I wanted to gloat about the fact that the contract didn’t require anything. That I could coast for six months without doing anything and collect my money. But of course, I hadn’t signed the contract yet, so I didn’t want to spill the beans.

“We’ll see how things go,” I said.

Pierce’s chiseled chest shuddered as he laughed. “You think you’re getting one over on me. Because the contract doesn’t require you to actually have sex with me.”

I tried to hide my surprise. “So you’re aware?”

“Of course I am. It was specifically written up that way. My lawyers are very, very good at what they do.”

I felt my annoyance rising again. “You’re that cocky? You think I’ll cave and sleep with you even though I don’t have to?”

“I don’t think anything, Melinda.”

“Then why offer the contract?”

He shrugged. “Can you move a foot to your left? You’re blocking the light.”

Tristan returned with the proper paperwork. I gave it another quick read-through to make sure nothing had been changed, then initialed every page and signed at the end. Pierce sat up in his chair and did the same, then shook my hand again.

“Welcome to the Bellerophon. I’m sure you’re going to have a good time with us.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Andrew will give you a proper tour of the boat’s amenities,” Tristan told me. He sat on the chair next to Pierce and pulled out a tablet device. “I would like to discuss the way the markets have reacted to the new Taiwan semiconductor news…”

And just like that, I was already forgotten.

“Glad you’re with us,” Andrew told me while leading me away from the sun deck. “Honestly, Pierce keeps things pretty casual around here. I think you’re going to have a good time.”

“Pierce?” I said. “Earlier, you and Tristan were calling him Mr. Benning.”

Andrew gave me that same boyish smile. “We only call him Mr. Benning when we’re around visitors. Now that you’re officially part of his retinue for the next six months, I can drop the act.”

His retinue. That made it sound like this was routine. “How many women has Pierce extended this offer to before me?”

“None,” Andrew replied.

I snorted. “Sure.”

He turned, frowning at me. “You can believe whatever you want, but it’s true. We’ve spent almost two years reviewing surrogate candidates around the world. You’re the first woman up to our standards.”

“Your standards? Plural?”

Andrew shrugged. “Pierce leans on me and Tristan for advice, sometimes. Here’s the primary dining room, which doesn’t get much use since we usually take all meals in the lounge or office…”

The tour of the yacht took ten minutes. Kitchen, two different lounges, even an entertainment room with a pull-down projector screen for watching movies. Five spacious bedrooms, each with a private bath. The bottom two decks, Andrew explained, were for the crew and servants.

Andrew opened one door. “And this is your room.” I gawked as we stepped inside; it was larger than my apartment back home. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered one entire wall, giving me a view of the sprawling blue ocean. The furniture—queen sized bed, bedside tables, two dressers, a coffee table, and two lounge chairs—were sleek and modern. The bathroom was equally impressive, with a standalone porcelain tub and a dedicated shower with half a dozen nozzles.

“The guest book next to the bed has everything you need, including access to the shipboard Wi-Fi,” Andrew explained. “You’re free to do whatever you want until dinner. That’s when Tristan is going to give an itinerary for the next week.”

“What about my stuff?” I asked, opening one of the dressers. It was empty.

“As we said: we have people acquiring everything you may need from your apartment.”

“They’re going to break in?”

Andrew’s lip curled in a half-smile. “Our people are in your apartment right now. I’ve been told we received a key from your landlord.”

“Mr. Frank?” I asked, laughing. “Good luck. He’s never home, and doesn’t answer his phone.”

“We took care of it half an hour ago.”

“No you didn’t,” I said. “The only time Mr. Frank is home is late at night. I don’t care how much money Pierce has—there’s zero chance you’ve already gotten access to my apartment. Unless you broke in.”

Andrew’s half-smile remained. “Zero chance?”

“Zero.”

Andrew shrugged, then pulled out his phone. A few swipes later: “Mr. Frank was out fishing at Central Pond. Specifically Cole’s Brook, on the north side. Our people showed him a digital copy of the contract—the relevant parts, anyway—and he was more than helpful in getting us access to your apartment.” Andrew tapped on the screen, making a call. “Afternoon, Linda. Yep, no, we’re all good here. I just wanted to check in on your progress. Mind showing me where we’re at?”

Andrew switched it to speakerphone and held up the phone for me to see. It was a video call, and a woman’s face—Linda’s—filled the screen. Behind her, I recognized the walls of my apartment.

“We’re wrapping things up here. Got all the essentials. Oh, hey there, Ms. Norris. Quick question: do you want the gold bathing suit, or the green? We brought the pink one, obviously, but are waffling on the second pair.”

My jaw was hanging open. I closed it and said, “Uh, the green one.”

Linda grinned at me. “That was what I was going to bring. Glad to know I made the right choice. You have any other special requests, you just let me know.”

I handed the phone back to Andrew. “You don’t have to look so smug.”

“I’m not smug. This is just how my face looks.” He looked at his watch. “Linda should have your stuff here in an hour. In the meantime, if you need anything else, my number is in the book. Seriously, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s my job to handle all of Pierce’s personal affairs, and now yours by extension. It’s really great to have you on board, Melinda.”

I watched him close the door behind him on the way out. I still found Andrew incredibly likable. In another context, I would’ve said yes if he offered to buy me a drink.

The first thing I did was connect to the shipboard Wi-Fi and text my mom. After that, I noticed I had a new email from my lawyer.

Hey Melinda,

It’s a slow day at the office, so I went over the contract a second time. The more complicated contract, I mean. I might have found another interesting loophole. There are several monetary incentives that trigger during different stages of surrogacy: an incentive for becoming pregnant, another for carrying the child to term, another for a successful live birth without complications. But here’s the thing: none of these incentives are tied to Pierce Benning at all. There’s no DNA test required, and nowhere does it say the child has to be his. Honestly, this is a pretty big loophole. I’m surprised his lawyers let it slip through.

Not saying you should get knocked up by his bodyguard or whatever in order to collect the incentive. And I know you’re probably going to sign the first, more traditional, contact. But it’s my job to make you aware of all angles.

Let me know if you need anything else.

I laughed as I read the email. That would surely piss off the billionaire: all this time and money wasted, only to give birth to a child that wasn’t even his.

Of course, I wasn’t going to do that. I considered myself a moral woman. I had signed a contract, and I was going to do my best to abide by the intent, not the exact wording.

But as I stared out the window of the mega-yacht that was my home for the near future, it was funny nonetheless.

9

Melinda

Linda and two servants delivered my belongings less than an hour later. She was a tall, wiry woman with a severe face, who moved with the confidence of a stalking predator. It wasn’t a surprise when I learned she was the head of Pierce Benning’s security.

“We can acquire anything else you may need,” she assured me with the seriousness one might dedicate to a covert mission briefing. “We’ll be within chopper range of several cities on the trip down.”

“The trip down?” I asked.

“Tristan Lowe will discuss the itinerary at dinner.”

My belongings arrived in four suitcases, one of which was mine. The other three were TUMI Alpha International branded suitcases, which looked expensive. After they were delivered, Linda lingered.

“I’m not supposed to, like, tip you, am I?” I asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Okay. Then I guess I don’t need anything else.”

“Very good.” Linda nodded and finally departed. I made a mental note that I needed to dismiss people, a fact which made me cringe.

After taking a long bath, I wasn’t sure what to wear to dinner. How was someone supposed to dress for a meal with a billionaire? Not just that, but a billionaire whose baby she was going to have? My instincts told me to dress fancy, but I bucked against that and threw on a fresh pair of jeans and a crop top. The bathroom had a curling iron, so I did spend half an hour making sure my hair looked great.

I was told to be in the dining room at six, but I waited an extra two minutes before arriving because I didn’t want to be early. And at six, a reminder went off on my phone: it was time to take my birth control pill. Linda had delivered them along with some other basic necessities from my apartment bathroom.

I stared at the pill case. The contract specified that I would need to stop taking them, of course. Now that I was here, however, it felt like a big step. Not that I was worried about going off the pill; I was lucky enough to have extremely mild period cramps. But I hadn’t thought I would be making this decision when I woke up this morning. I’d expected it to be weeks, or months, from now when I was chosen to be a surrogate.

Finally, I left the pill case on the bathroom sink, today’s pill untouched.

The Bellerophon’s dining room was already full when I got there. Aside from four white-clad servants, Linda was posted up next to the door with her arms crossed, looking like a team of pirates might storm the deck at any moment. Andrew was sitting at the table, making notes on his tablet. He raised a hand in greeting when he saw me, along with a warm smile. Tristan sat across from him, and was speaking quietly to one of the servants. He glanced over at me, looked me up and down, then returned to his conversation.

Then there was Pierce, seated at the head of the table. He was wearing his suit again, without a tie and with the top three buttons open on his shirt. He seemed surprised to see me, like he’d forgotten I was on board, and wore a curious smile as I approached.

“Your seat is over here,” Andrew said, gesturing to the chair between him and Pierce. “You look nice.”

“I wasn’t sure what to wear to this kind of thing.”

Before I could sit, Pierce rose and pulled out the chair for me. This must have been unusual, because Tristan raised an eyebrow. I considered a jab about how he has servants to do that for him, but I held it back and allowed Pierce to push in my chair.

“No dress code on the Bellerophon,” Pierce said. “Jeans, bathing suit, evening gown—whatever you’re comfortable in.”

“And if I was most comfortable in the nude?” I asked.

Tristan coughed into his fist. Andrew chuckled.

But Pierce gave me that curious smile again. “It’s my ship. Do whatever you want. But when we arrive at our destination, I’ll need you to be more presentable.”

“What is our destination?” I asked.

“I will go over the itinerary after the meal,” Tristan said curtly.

Or you could tell me right now, I thought. But before I could voice my complaint, servants emerged from the kitchen.

The meal was, to put it simply, amazing. The first two courses were a bean and bacon soup, and a wedge salad. After that came a tray of small pastry puffs filled with a savory meat filling. The main course was elk tenderloin served in a tart wine sauce. It was the most delicious piece of red meat I had ever tasted. All of it was paired with a bottle of merlot that was more than twice my age.

Andrew glanced at me and raised both eyebrows. He seemed to be saying: get used to this.

And to think I almost turned Pierce down.

Dessert was a peanut butter cheesecake with a strawberry drizzle, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side. Tristan stood up and addressed the table while everyone else ate.

“Our itinerary for the next few weeks,” he announced. “The Bellerophon will sail south to the island.”

“What island?” I asked around a mouthful of cheesecake.

“Mr. Benning’s private island,” Tristan replied simply.

“Off the coast of Costa Rica,” Andrew whispered to me.

Tristan cleared his throat and shot a look at Andrew. “The Bellerophon is capable of covering 200 nautical miles per day.”

“Nautical miles? Are those, like, fancy rich people miles?”

Andrew chuckled. Pierce smiled, too.

Tristan’s scowl was fierce. “I will be ignoring any and all comments from Ms. Norris from this point forward.”

“Ah, lighten up,” Pierce said. “She’s only making jokes because she’s nervous.”

“I am not!” I replied. Pierce pretended like he didn’t hear me.

Okay, so I’m a little nervous. I took another sip of my wine to cover it up, and a servant rushed forward to refill my glass.

“The trip will be ten days,” Tristan continued. “We will be within helicopter range of several major cities during the trip, should we need anything.” He glanced at me as if I were the one who might need something.

“What happens when we get to the island?” I asked.

“We will be staying there for most of the summer,” Tristan replied.

“We have flexibility, depending on how we’re all feeling,” Pierce told me. “I have some business meetings to handle when we first arrive, but after that, we can do whatever we want.”

“I’m sure this private island will be up to my standards,” I said. “But it’s good to know I can send it back like an overcooked steak if I need to.”

Pierce and Andrew chuckled again. Tristan almost smiled.

“What do we have planned for the ten day trip?” I asked.

“Whatever we want to do,” Pierce replied. “Relax. Enjoy yourself.”

You mean relax and sleep with you. I wondered how long before Pierce made a move on me. Day three was my guess.

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

I woke up the next morning feeling relaxed and refreshed. The yacht was so large that it was unaffected by waves, even at cruising speed. I used the remote control to open the curtains on my windows, and was greeted by a flawless Atlantic sunrise.

“I guess it wasn’t a dream,” I muttered while admiring the view. “This is really happening. I’m traveling with a billionaire for the next six months.”

I let out an excited squeal.

Up in the lounge, I asked a servant when breakfast was served. He frowned at me and asked, “What do you mean, ma’am?”

“What time do you serve breakfast? And when do you stop?”

His smile was polite. “Ma’am, the Bellerophon’s kitchen never closes. You can request anything you’d like at any time. The only set meal is dinner, and even that is flexible depending on Mr. Benning’s preferences.”

“I can request anything? Surely you can’t accommodate any request.”

The servant smiled in confidence. “We’ll try our best.”

I was craving the comfort food I usually got at my local diner on Saturday mornings, so I ordered French toast, crispy hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, and bacon. The meal was brought out to me in ten minutes, perfectly plated like it was the kitchen’s specialty. As I dug in, I made a mental note to try more creative food tomorrow.

I spent that first day sunbathing on the sun deck of the Bellerophon, which was cruising at a more comfortable speed during the daytime. I didn’t even read a book or listen to a podcast; I simply stared off at the water, and at the distant strip of land that Google Maps told me was New Jersey.

The second day, I pulled out my laptop—which Linda had brought from my apartment—and tried to do some planning for my marketing company. But after an hour of staring at the screen, I put the laptop away and decided to give myself a break. I had spent the past year working nights and weekends to get New England Digital Marketing ready for the Bobs. I deserved to enjoy myself for a few days. My batteries desperately needed recharging.

Linda had also brought my Kindle, so I relaxed in the breezy shade on deck and caught up on my reading. Andrew ate his lunch out on the sun deck—a club sandwich, which he insisted he ate every single day—and chatted with me for a little while.

“It’ll get busier when we’re on the island,” he told me. “When Pierce has business meetings, I have to ensure that everything is perfect. For now, I get to relax.”

I saw Tristan several times per day. He was always polite to me, but his comments were curt. I decided that he would’ve reminded me of a young James Bond if he didn’t have a stick up his ass.

Pierce, meanwhile, gave me plenty of space. He was friendly when we did cross paths, which was several times per day, but he didn’t try to force any interaction.

After dinner on the second night, I wandered into the entertainment room on the boat. There were eight recliners, one row raised up behind the second like stadium seats. Two of the chairs were occupied by Andrew and Pierce.

“If you want to watch something else, just let me know,” Pierce offered as I took one of the recliners, leaving an empty seat between me and the billionaire.

“I’m fine with whatever you’re watching.” I looked at the projection screen. “Is that Jodie Foster?”

“It’s the new season of True Detective,” Andrew explained. “We just started it.”

“Can I see this if I haven’t watched any of the previous seasons?”

Both of them turned their heads toward me. “You haven’t seen any of them?” Pierce asked.

“Not even season one, with Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson?” Andrew added.

“I don’t have HBO,” I replied.

“Fortunately, you don’t need to watch the older seasons,” Pierce explained. “Each season is standalone. But you still need to go back and watch the first season.”

“It’s really good,” Andrew said.

“You had me at McConaughey,” I said. “I’d be content watching him read the dictionary for an hour.”

“I can arrange that,” Pierce said casually. “Matthew is a friend.”

“No he’s not,” I blurted out. “Is he?”

Pierce shrugged. Andrew smiled and turned his attention back to the screen.

The ten days at sea passed like that. I relaxed during the day, ate amazing food, and watched TV with Pierce in the evenings. He never made a move on me, and I felt my defenses beginning to lower. I actually started feeling comfortable around Pierce—or at least, as comfortable as someone could be around a man who was worth more than most of the Caribbean countries we were sailing past on our trip south.

Overall, it was a relaxing trip. It felt like a vacation at my own private resort.

On the morning of the tenth day, I woke up and opened the curtains in my room. I was greeted by an unexpected surprise: instead of endless ocean, a tropical island filled my view. Vibrant colors popped out as we drifted along: turquoise water, yellow beach, lively jungle greens, and a perfect blue sky above it all. But the island looked deserted.

By the time I got dressed and went up to the lounge deck, we were pulling into an isolated cove with calmer water. There I saw our true destination: a marble-white mansion, tiered like a wedding cake, that rose from the beach up into the foothills of the island mountains. There was a dock, although it appeared much too small for the yacht.

“Wow,” I breathed.

“That is the proper reaction,” Tristan said next to me. He smiled while staring out at the island. “In fact, it is the same reaction I have every time we return here. The island is quite special.”

“Wasn’t the Jurassic Park island off the coast of Costa Rica?” I wondered out loud. “There aren’t, like, dinosaurs here, right?”

For the first time since I had joined the Bellerophon, Tristan laughed. “No, there are no dinosaurs here.” His blue-gray eyes cut over to me. “But there are spiders, snakes, scorpions, fire ants…”

“Scorpions? Those are only in the desert,” I argued.

Tristan shrugged. “If you say so.”

As I suspected, the yacht was too large for the dock. The yacht remained in the center of the cove while we boarded a smaller craft that took us to the island. Another boat was already docked there; unlike the yacht and craft that brought us inland, it appeared to be local. Several shirtless men were carrying boxes of goods from the boat up to the mansion.

Those men all immediately set down their crates of goods and stood politely while we disembarked onto the dock. Some of them cast their eyes downward, but others nodded politely. Pierce paused in front of one of the men, who had a round belly and thin gray hair. Pierce spoke to him in Spanish, and the man laughed and gave him a fist-bump.

Okay, so he gets along with all the servants. That doesn’t mean he’s a good guy.

When I was in high school, my parents took me and my sister to an all-inclusive resort in Cabo. Dad was one of the top salesmen of the year, so it was all paid for by his company. When we arrived to that resort, drinks were handed out as soon as we arrived—although my sister and I weren’t old enough to drink. Employees were everywhere, constantly asking if we needed anything. When we ordered room service, four employees arrived to deliver it. It was a core memory for me, a taste of true luxury.

Pierce’s private island was like that, but dialed up to 11. Five servants dressed in white stood waiting outside the door to the mansion, and five more waited inside. A woman with a tray offered me champagne, a rum-based mixed drink, and beer—and she was sure to mention that the bar could make me anything else I desired. I accepted a champagne and admired the mansion’s tall ceilings, sprawling windows, and airy feel.

We were outnumbered by servants five-to-one. And unlike the resort in Cabo, there was nobody else here. Everyone was excited to please Pierce Benning…

…and, by extension, me.

It was overwhelming. Andrew gave me the tour of the mansion, and every room held more servants who greeted me and asked if I needed anything. I was offered champagne four more times before I had even taken a sip of my first glass.

Vaguely, I was annoyed by all of it. It was such a lavish lifestyle while so many people in the world went hungry. Here in the Caribbean, I knew there was terrible poverty. Yet this oasis of wealth existed for the comfort of one man.

After acknowledging it, I quickly put it out of my mind. I couldn’t control any of that. This mansion existed whether I was here or not. I had too many of my own problems to worry about without adding more onto the pile.

It became even easier to put aside my concerns when I saw my room. It was twice as large as my entire apartment back home, with cool marble floors and a magnificent view of the cove, with the Bellerophon floating majestically in the center. My complaints further melted away when the masseuse paid me a visit a few minutes later. She worked on my shoulders and neck while I sat on the balcony with a second glass of champagne, enjoying the salty breeze that blew in off the ocean.

The masseuse had strong fingers, and I felt my stress melt away.

Okay. I can get used to this.

There was just one thing that I still didn’t understand:

Pierce Benning hadn’t made a single move toward me.

10

Pierce

After a five-course welcome dinner, I met with Tristan and Andrew in my study. It was an impressive room, two stories with a domed ceiling and bookcases that rose so high that rolling ladders were spaced around the room. I settled into the single leather chair that was set apart from the rest of the furniture, while the other two chose one of the couches facing me.

“At your request, I have tightly scheduled all of your upcoming meetings for the next two days,” Tristan began while consulting his tablet. “The helicopter flight from here to San Jose is slightly less than an hour. We have chartered a second helicopter to assist in ferrying the investors here around the clock.”

“Excellent,” I replied. “When is my first meeting?”

“Eight o’clock tomorrow morning. And every two hours thereafter, until ten o’clock in the evening. The schedule is the same the day after tomorrow, except your final meeting is at four in the afternoon.”

Thirteen meetings with thirteen groups of venture capitalists. I didn’t need outside money; I was certainly wealthy enough to self-fund whatever venture I desired. But I had learned a valuable lesson in my thirty-one years on this planet: it was better to risk other peoples’ money than your own.

“How do you want to dress?” Andrew asked while making notes on his own tablet. “Silicon Valley casual? More formal?”

“Island casual,” I replied. “We’re bringing them here to my island. Might as well act the part.”

Andrew raised his stylus. “I like that plan, with two exceptions. Palmer McClintock, with the McClintock Fund, is a big exercise buff. Just finished his first Ironman triathlon. If you want to have that meeting in the gym while you work out, it might impress him.”

“Done,” I said. “And the other exception?”

“Hannah Angstrom, from Germany. My research shows that she’s a stickle for formality. I’d like to see you in a suit for that meeting—the custom Kiton two-piece. Also, she’s got a good nose for wine. I’m thinking the Jadot Le Montrachet, 2009.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Yes to the wine. The suit will be warm.”

“Only for an hour,” Andrew replied. “If you’re concerned, we can receive Angstrom here in the study, rather than on the terrace.”

I thought about it, then nodded. “Make sure the refreshments are suitable for the other investor visits, too.”

Andrew grinned and held up the tablet. “I’ve got a page of notes on every one of them.”

I flashed him a smile. Andrew was good at what he did, and I was glad to have him in my corner. Small details added up.

“Do you intend to tell the investors what you are planning next?” Tristan asked.

“I don’t intend to, no.”

“Do you intend to tell us what you are planning next?” he asked.

I smiled. “Eventually.”

Tristan looked like he wanted to complain, but he remained silent. Everyone wanted to know what I was working on next. Not just the investors and my personal assistant, but countless corporations, heads of state, and media talking heads. The longer things dragged on without any information leaking, the more desperate people became. Like hungry people who were made to wait an extra ten minutes before being seated at a restaurant. Every minute they waited, the more delicious the meal would taste.

That kind of suspense required a lot of effort to tease out. Hence the flurry of meetings for the next two days.

“If I may switch topics…?” Tristan asked.

“You may.”

“Melinda Norris. You do intend to impregnate your surrogate at some point, yes? Or at least attempt to do so?”

I felt my heartbeat rise at the mention of Melinda. “That’s the idea.”

Tristan stared blankly at me. “And you do have some sort of plan regarding this? Because as of yet, you have treated her no differently than any other servant or assistant in your orbit.”

“That’s not true. We’ve been watching TV together at night.”

“Ah yes, watching television,” Tristan said. “How steamy.”

“Our friend is right,” Andrew interjected. “Ten days at sea and you’ve barely acknowledged her.”

“I have a plan,” I said simply.

“Is it the same plan we discussed previously?” Andrew insisted. “Because the three of us sat down and talked about it at great length before offering this woman the contract. We were on the same page at the time. If that has changed, I’d like to know.”

“As would I,” Tristan said curtly.

“Nothing has changed,” I assured them. “The plan we discussed is still ideal, unless you two are getting cold feet…”

“Absolutely not,” Tristan said.

Andrew shook his head. “I’m still game. But the way you’ve acted around her…”

“I’m letting her get comfortable,” I said. “We have six months. There’s no need to rush anything.”

In truth, I was thinking of Melinda the same way I thought of the investors who would be visiting for the next two days. I wanted to build up the suspense. Make her come to me, not the other way around. Melinda was my ideal woman: smart, impulsive, and stubborn. I knew that I needed to give her a chance to lower her defenses before I even thought about making a move.

“She’s a good fit,” Andrew said. “The more time we spend together, the more I like her.”

“I share Andrew’s opinion,” Tristan said. “Melinda is quite…” He searched for the word, then shook his head and sighed.

She is a good fit, I thought. I spent two years waiting for the perfect surrogate. It’s Melinda, or it’s nobody.

I just hoped she was worth the wait.

11

Melinda

As relaxing as the ten-day boat ride had been, I was antsy to do something. Arriving on the island felt like that event: the destination to the trip. Things were finally going to start happening!

But then, at breakfast, Tristan informed me that Pierce had a busy schedule.

“What do you mean, he’s completely busy for the next two days?”

“Pierce is an extraordinarily busy man,” the dry personal assistant said. “Investors from around the world will be visiting him.”

“Can I sit in on these meetings?”

Tristan furrowed his brow as if I had suggested we invite the local spiders to dinner. “You may not.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he replied, “you are Pierce’s surrogate. There is no place for you at these meetings.”

“But I’m bored,” I complained.

“I am sure a woman such as yourself can find a way to occupy your time.”

I bristled. “A woman such as myself? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tristan’s demeanor immediately softened. He put a hand on my arm and said, “I meant a woman who is intelligent and independent. That was not intended as an insult. Now, if you will excuse me…”

I watched the suave man walk down the hall and outside, where a helicopter was hovering as it prepared to land. Two men in suits walked out.

I turned on my heel and stormed back to my room. On the way, I passed the gym. Through the window I saw Pierce lying prone on an exercise bench, unracking a barbell from a rack and beginning a set of bench press.

“Your first visitors are here,” I said.

“Thank you, I’m aware,” he said without slowing. The veins in his arms bulged from the effort of the weight. I didn’t know how much he was benching, but the plates on the barbell were large, and there were more than one on each side.

“You’ve been awake for two hours, and you’re just now exercising? Right when they arrive?”

Pierce finished his last set and racked the barbell, then sat up. He was wearing a green Dri-fit tank top that fit snugly across his chest. The muscles in his shoulders and chest stood out in definition from the morning sunlight streaming through the exterior windows. He was wearing designer sweatpants, tight enough to hug every contour in his thighs.

“Everything surrounding these visits is a carefully choreographed ballet,” he explained calmly. “I’ll discuss it with you later.”

“You mean in two days? When you can squeeze me into your schedule?”

“Sure. If I have time. There may be follow-up meetings.”

Pierce laid back and began another set. I stared daggers at him, but I couldn’t take my eyes away. There was something so alluring about a man that was exercising, something primal that stirred within me…

Behind me, Andrew cleared his throat. “I don’t want to sound like a dick, but we’ve got visitors arriving in less than a minute.”

I tore my eyes away from Pierce’s bulging arms. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll get out of the way. Wouldn’t want the investors to know I’ve been hired to sit around and wait for Pierce to put a baby in me.”

Andrew winced at the words, which gave me a momentary sense of satisfaction as I walked back to my room. But then I felt bad. It wasn’t Andrew’s fault any of this was happening. He just worked for Pierce.

I took a long bath and thought about why I felt so annoyed. A week ago, I had been content to relax and coast for six months without being legally required to do anything. But I was a type-A woman, and there was only so much relaxing I could enjoy. I wanted to do something. I wanted Pierce to at least try to woo me, if for no other reason than it would allow me to rebuke his advances.

The water in the bath was the perfect temperature, allowing all the tension to leave my body. It also allowed me to analyze myself a little better.

I had always wanted kids. They were a beacon to look forward to in the future, when I had an established career and had found the one. And not just the end result of having a baby: I was actually excited about being pregnant. Growing another human inside of me; it was the closest thing I could get to a super power. I wanted to see my belly grow rounder, and feel the baby kicking inside of me, and to feel a level of connection and emotion that was truly rare in this world.

Signing with the surrogacy agency had brought all of those desires to the forefront of my focus. So had signing the contract with Pierce, despite its unusual context. I wanted to be pregnant. I was ready. It would be a fun adventure for a year, a taste of what things would be like when I had my own children, and then I could use the money to focus on my career a little longer.

And to find the one. That was important, too.

But after signing the contract eleven days ago, nothing had happened. Pierce wasn’t outright rude to me… but he was hardly friendly, either. He kept me at arm’s length, treating me with the tact one might offer a plumber that was temporarily in their home. Polite, but nowhere close to warm.

Did he want to impregnate me, or not?

After my bath, I changed into a bathing suit and went to lay out by the pool. The island—which Andrew told me was jokingly referred to as Bennington—was hot and humid, but a constant breeze off the ocean made it feel pleasant. There were also very few bugs around the mansion, although I could hear their constant chirps and drones out in the jungle. I wondered what kind of technology they used to keep them away from the pool.

At one point while tanning my back, I wondered if Pierce was playing hard-to-get. A little reverse psychology to get me to want to sleep with him. If that were true, it was working. Or at least, it wasn’t not working.

But I didn’t think he was playing any games. The helicopter came and went all day—two helicopters, I realized—ferrying men and women in expensive suits to and from San Jose. I caught glimpses of them throughout the day. Each of them was friendly with Pierce, laughing and shaking hands and telling jokes. Everyone wanted to be best friends with the billionaire entrepreneur.

And Pierce was charming and charismatic right back to them. He met the investors in different parts of the mansion: once in the gym, the next time in his study, then on the terrace overlooking the pool after that. When they were close enough for me to observe, it became obvious that the visitors weren’t pretending to like Pierce. They genuinely did like him. Even people who were obviously meeting him for the first time acted like they were his best friend by the time they departed on the helicopter and another group took their place.

All of it reminded me, strangely, of high school. I used to have a crush on James Hofstra, the captain of the football team. He was popular with everyone, able to get along with jocks and geeks alike. I wasn’t unpopular back then, but I was still outside of James’s circle. I found myself watching him from afar, laughing and being friendly with everyone he came across, and wondered if he would ever give someone like me a chance.

Except there was one key difference between Pierce and James: I knew for a fact that Pierce wanted to fuck me. That desire was written in ink and notarized.

Then what the hell was Pierce doing?

One thought came to me while falling asleep that night: maybe he really wasn’t interested in sex. Maybe he genuinely believed that natural conception was the ideal way for a child to be created. In that context, he might have seen sex with me as a chore.

I didn’t like thinking of it that way, so I quickly dismissed it. But the idea stuck around in the back of my head long after I had turned out the lights.

Tristan accompanied Pierce to each of the meetings, but Andrew was hit-or-miss. While one of these meetings was going on in the study, I walked down to the beach with a towel and my Kindle. To my surprise, Andrew was already down there, sitting with a chair up near the water. The surf was gently rolling across his ankles while he read a paperback book.

“Nothing to do?” I asked.

Andrew marked his place with a finger and lowered the book, smiling warmly at me. “Not when Pierce is with the investors.”

I dragged a second chair over to the surf next to his and sat down. “But I’ve seen you around them. Helping and stuff.”

“I usually help prepare for the meeting, and then at the beginning. After that my services are no longer required.”

“Okay, so help me out. What exactly does a valet do?” I pronounced it the way he had done, with a hard-T sound.

“It’s basically a manservant,” he explained. “Tristan is his personal assistant, which means he handles all the business-related things. As a valet, I handle all of Pierce’s personal things. I choose his outfits every day. I make sure they are clean, pressed, and laid out for him. I know all of his food requirements: an espresso at five, eight, and eleven o’clock. A bottle of electrolyte mix prior to his morning workout, and a shaker of protein powder after. I ensure his meals are satisfactory. That kind of thing.”

“Don’t the chefs do all of that? You guys have a small army in your kitchens, both on the Bellerophon and on the island.”

Andrew smiled. “The chefs make the food. I make sure it’s up to Pierce’s standards. I also oversee the purchase, and delivery, of all supplies. We had a dedicated manager for a year, but their standards were… lacking. I also choreograph the timing of all meals and personal activities to ensure Pierce doesn’t have to wait. Basically, I’m the grease that smooths out every non-business interaction Pierce has during the day. And some of the business interactions, too.”

I paused while a wave washed up the shore, surging across my feet and then receding again. The water was cool, but not cold. “I don’t want to say anything that might offend you…”

“But you’re going to power through anyway?”

“…your job seems kind of pointless,” I said. “You save Pierce, what, a few minutes a day?”

“Pierce’s time is extremely valuable,” Andrew said.

“You’re the second person to remind me of that in the past day,” I muttered.

“If I can save him a few minutes per day, that’s worth it. Those minutes add up. You’d be surprised how efficient his day runs thanks to me.”

I pictured Pierce on the Bellerophon during the trip down here, lounging out in the sun and doing nothing. In that context, I wasn’t buying Andrew’s argument about saving a few minutes per day.

Whatever. Billionaires had more money than sense.

“So what’s with all of these meetings?” I asked as the helicopter took off from the mansion, taking the most recent investors back to San Jose. “Is Pierce collecting funding for his next big project?”

“Something like that.”

I leaned in close. Close enough to smell Andrew’s banana-scented sunscreen. “What’s he working on?”

“Afraid I can’t tell you.”

“Aw, come on. Give me a hint.”

“Sorry.”

“Nanobots?” I tried. “Artificial intelligence?”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Your eye twitched when I mentioned AI,” I said, pointing at him. “It’s totally AI, isn’t it? Everything big is related to AI right now. I figured it out, didn’t I? Tell me!”

“I can’t tell you,” Andrew explained, “because I don’t know myself.”

I gave a start. “Wait, really?”

“Why does that surprise you?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I guess I just assumed he would tell you. You and Tristan are his two closest confidants. And you made it seem like you two were best friends.”

Andrew gazed out at the water. “We are. At least, as close to best friends as someone can be with a man like Pierce. We share a lot of things, not just interests.”

There was something strange about the way he said that, but he went on before I could ask.

“But he keeps some things close to his chest. He’s always been that way; he doesn’t want people to see how the sausage is made, so to speak. He likes to keep his ideas a secret until they’re fully formed in his mind. Only then does he let other people in.”

“I can understand that,” I said, glancing out at the water. “I guess I’m kind of the same way. I only want people to see the finished product.”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do with the money?” Andrew asked. “I’m assuming that’s why you chose to be a surrogate. The money.”

“You assume correctly. And I have exactly one thing on my mind: getting even with the Bobs.”

Andrew’s laughter was carried away by the ocean breeze. “I don’t blame you. I read your file. They really fucked you over.”

“It was a good life lesson,” I replied. “I learned not to trust people.”

“You just have to make sure you trust the right people.”

I glanced over at him. “Like Pierce?”

“Yeah, like Pierce. He’s as trustworthy as they come. He always keeps his word, and he tries to do right by people.”

I still wasn’t sure if I believed it, but by this point I had seen the way his employees acted around him, and the way he treated them back. They were happy to work for him, and they weren’t faking it. The smiles were genuine. He probably paid them extremely well. He would need to, just from a security standpoint. That was the best way to keep them from taking bribes or leaking information.

I wondered if Pierce got death threats. All famous people probably did, and he had done his fair share of pissing people off in his rise to power.

“Look!” Andrew said. “I was hoping we would see them.”

He jumped up from his chair and ran over to a black rock on the beach. But when I joined him, I realized it wasn’t a rock—it was moving.

“It’s a turtle!” I blurted out.

The little turtle, which was about two inches long, was flapping its legs in a circle, slowly propelling it forward in the sand toward the water.

“Sergio, one of the chefs, told me he saw some last night. I didn’t expect to see any this morning, but sometimes there are stragglers. There’s more.”

Andrew leaned into me to point farther up the beach, where three more greenish-black turtles were slowly flopping across the sand. His warm arm brushed against mine as we stared, transfixed by the sight.

“Costa Rica is the most biodiverse country on the planet,” he whispered. I was close enough to see the freckles on his cheeks. “This island is a completely different environment than the next one over, which is even more different from the mainland.”

As we watched the baby turtles make it to the water, I thought again about how likable Andrew was. He was the only person here who I felt comfortable around. Everyone else treated me with a little too much formality, but I was an equal in Andrew’s eyes. It had made me suspicious when I first met him, that likability, but now I appreciated it. In a different context, I totally would have asked him out.

Maybe when this crazy surrogate contract is over.

I laughed. I was getting ahead of myself. But in the meantime, I was glad that Andrew was around to make me feel less lonely.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I was thinking about AI turtles. Pierce’s next big business idea.”

Andrew grinned along with me. “Careful. There may be something to that. Robotic turtles controlled by AI microprocessors…”

“Shut up,” I said, and the two of us laughed together.

12

Melinda

Pierce met with his investors for two straight days, almost around the clock. He took all of his meals with them, too. Once again, I felt practically ignored.

He wasn’t rude. He greeted me warmly the couple of times we passed in the hall, or while getting coffee in the kitchen in the morning. But overall, I felt like I was forgotten.

By the time the last investor departed on the helicopter, I was getting stir crazy. There was only so much time a girl could spend at the pool, or on the beach, before she started getting antsy.

I found Pierce on the terrace overlooking the pool. He was with Tristan and Andrew, while a white-clad servant popped a bottle of champagne.

“Just in time,” Pierce said when he saw me. He was wearing baggy linen pants and a tighter-fitting T-shirt, which made his arm tattoos visible.

“What are we celebrating?” I asked.

There were four glasses, which meant he had expected me. “The conclusion of two days of nonstop work. Talking to people is exhausting.”

“I myself partook in very little conversation,” Tristan announced, “and I am still exhausted. I do not know how you do it, Pierce.”

“One word, Tristan: methamphetamines.”

Only when the other two men laughed did I do the same. I’m glad that was just a joke.

“I don’t do drugs,” Pierce explained to me, handing me a champagne flute. “Just alcohol.”

“And the occasional joint,” Andrew said.

Pierce waved a hand. “That hardly counts.” He raised his glass. “To the conclusion of business.”

“To your secret AI project!” I toasted while touching glasses.

Pierce frowned at me. In confusion, not surprise.

“She’s convinced your next venture has to do with AI,” Andrew explained.

“God, no,” Pierce replied after taking a sip. “The technology is already plateauing. And it’s getting worse.”

“Worse?” I asked. “How can the technology get worse? Shouldn’t it be gradually improving?”

“The thing about AI is that it doesn’t exist in a vacuum,” Pierce explained. His eyes lit up; it was clear that he enjoyed talking about stuff like this. “AI learns by absorbing billions of terabytes of data on the internet.”

“Right. So how is it getting worse?” I asked.

He grinned and gestured with his champagne. “Because more and more content on the internet is created by AI. News articles. How-to guides. Hell, even half of all social media posts come from AI bots these days. The AI algorithms then absorb this new information, which was generated by itself or a competing AI…”

“Which makes it more and more AI-like, rather than human,” I finished for him. “It’s a feedback loop of AI data!”

The billionaire snapped his fingers. “Bingo. The guys who tweak the AI algorithms are trying their best to keep this from happening, but it’s getting harder and harder to do.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to touch that technology with a hundred foot pole.”

“Fair enough. So what are you working on?” I asked casually.

Pierce smirked and glanced at Tristan and Andrew. “She almost got me.”

“She is quite persistent,” Tristan said.

Andrew shook his head. “I told her you like to keep your ideas close to your chest.”

“Sorry, I had to try,” I said. “Now that business is over, how about we start the first season of True Detective?” I glanced at my watch. “We can probably binge half the season if we start now.”

Pierce winced. “Actually, I’ve got plans.”

“What? You said you were done with your meetings!”

“I am. But I’m heading into San Jose tonight.”

“To do what?” I demanded.

“Secret billionaire stuff.”

I waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

“I want to come.”

“You can visit San Jose another time,” he replied while downing the rest of his champagne.

“I’ve been cooped up on your boat, and now this island, for almost two weeks. I’m ready to do something. Take me with you.”

Pierce twisted the champagne flute between two fingers while considering me. He had such an intense gaze that I wanted to look away, but I forced myself to stare right back at him.

“Yeah, all right,” he finally said. “You can catch a ride to San Jose with me. But you’re on your own once you get there. Do whatever you want, but I’ve got my own plans.”

“Deal,” I said, seizing on the offer. I was ready to do anything, even if it was by myself.

Andrew had warned me that the capital of Costa Rica was up in the mountains, and therefore chillier than Bennington, so I changed into jeans and a comfortable shirt. We were the only two passengers as the helicopter climbed into the air and headed west, toward the setting sun.

Pierce was busy tapping on his laptop, so I stared out the window at the scenery during the journey. Costa Rica was a nation of rolling hills and jutting mountains, all of which was covered in thick jungle. Occasionally, I spotted signs of civilization through the trees: metal roofs, winding roads, and the headlights from cars. But mostly it was pristine wilderness, or at least what looked like it from the sky.

The pilot came on the intercom and told us we were five minutes from landing in San Jose. When I glanced over, I gave a start; Pierce Benning was removing his shoes.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Changing clothes.” He gave me a pointed look. “Are you going to stare at me, or give me some privacy?”

I quickly turned toward the window. But it was night outside, and the dim light within the helicopter cabin caused the interior to be reflected against the glass. Pierce removed his linen pants, replacing them with a pair of baggy cargo pants. Then he was shirtless, and pulled on a grungy-looking gray tank top. Finally, he replaced his leather loafers with a pair of tattered sneakers that might have been blue when they were new, but were now faded and streaked with mud.

“What’s all this about?” I asked.

He ignored me and pressed the intercom button on the wall. “You’re putting us down at the stadium, correct?”

“Affirmative,” the pilot responded. “Unless your plans have changed?”

“Nope, stadium is perfect.”

“What stadium?” I asked. “Are we watching a soccer match?”

Pierce chuckled. “No.”

A saw why a few minutes later. The helicopter neared a public stadium, which had ten rows of brick bleachers on all sides. Larger than the stadium for a school, but a far cry from the larger stadiums in America. It was currently empty, with only a scattering of lights on around the perimeter to make it stand out in the darkness. The pilot brought the helicopter down in the middle of the field.

“There’s plenty of shops and restaurants to the north, and east,” Pierce told me while sliding open the door. He had to raise his voice now that the drone of the engine was no longer muted. “Be back here in three hours, or we’ll leave without you.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Nowhere,” he replied as he hopped down to the ground. He paused and extended a hand to help me off, but I ignored him and climbed down myself. Pierce shrugged, pulled out a tattered red baseball cap from his pocket, and put it on.

“Don’t follow me,” he warned, before turning and walking away.

The pilot opened the door and removed his headset. “Don’t take it personally. Mr. Benning does this sometimes.”

“Does what sometimes?”

He stared back at me, his expression unreadable. If he knew Pierce’s secrets, he certainly wasn’t going to tell.

Fine. I’ll figure it out on my own.

Pierce was walking north, and that was one of the directions he suggested to me, so I walked that way too. We went under a tunnel in the bleachers, which came to a gate that was watched by a guard inside of a little booth. The guard nodded at Pierce and pressed a button. The gate swung open.

On the other side of the gate was a busy street filled with pedestrians. Pierce looked both ways, then turned right. He immediately disappeared into the throng.

I jogged to get to the gate before it closed, giving a little wave to the guard. I barely caught a glimpse of Pierce twenty feet ahead; the crowd was so thick that he would’ve disappeared if I had waited another second.

I’m not following him, I told myself as I started walking. I wanted to go in this direction.

I considered myself well-traveled, but most of those travels were in Europe: France, Spain, Italy. I had never been to a city like San Jose. It wasn’t as clean as many of the European cities I had visited, but that wasn’t to say it was dirty. Just more rugged. The people all around me seemed friendly, smiling as they walked. There were wild dogs here and there, but they looked well-fed and harmless as they examined the passing pedestrians.

The buildings were a wild mix of quality. I passed a dilapidated house with open, glassless windows that showed a woman cooking dinner inside, surrounded by children that were hardly tall enough to reach the waistband of her jeans. The next house was modern, two stories built from brick and glass, surrounded by a fence that was covered with barbed wire. After that was a street vendor roasting some kind of meat on a flat top, followed by a nicer outdoor bar with picnic tables and umbrellas.

Everything was so lively even at this time of day. The culture of it all was overwhelming, but fascinating.

Pierce blended in surprisingly well with his choice of clothes. If he wasn’t tall, and wasn’t wearing that faded red baseball cap, I would have lost him in the crowd. It was still difficult to follow him, since I was staying about fifty feet back.

But my paranoia about being seen proved useful, because suddenly Pierce turned off the street and ducked into a little window shop that sold coffee and pastries. He looked both ways as if he suspected that he was being followed; I was able to avoid being seen by darting into the line for a street vendor, still thirty feet away from the incognito billionaire.

Pierce bought a coffee and continued walking. As I passed the shop, the smell of coffee wafted out and caught my nose. I was tempted to give up on following Pierce and get a coffee myself, but my curiosity was too great to stop.

I followed Pierce for at least ten minutes before he finally stopped at a small outdoor restaurant. It was tucked underneath a canopy of trees, with five concrete tables arranged in front of a bar, and two fire pits glowing yellow in the night, casting long shadows across the space. I slid into a souvenir shop across the street, grabbed a map of Costa Rica from the wall, and pretended to examine it while watching Pierce.

The billionaire was sitting at a table, alone. A waiter passed by; they exchanged some words, and then the waiter disappeared and returned with two beers and a plate of food. Pierce took a sip of beer and hunched over his phone, typing away. Was he meeting someone?

The owner of the souvenir shop tugged on my sleeve and spoke to me in Spanish. He was smiling, but there was an annoyed tension in his eyes, so I purchased the map and a cream colored Costa Rica hat. Then I returned to inconspicuously watching Pierce.

He was still texting on his phone, the food untouched. He took another sip of beer, but he wasn’t drinking fast enough to warrant two of them. I was certain he was meeting someone.

But who?

I got my answer in an unexpected way. My phone vibrated in my pocket with a text message. The number was unknown, but I knew who it was from the context:

UNKNOWN: Are you going to keep watching me from that souvenir shop, or join me for a beer?

13

Melinda

Pierce never looked in my direction. In fact, he had been sitting facing away from me this entire time. How did he know I was stalking him?

I considered playing dumb. Ignoring the text, or replying to tell him that I didn’t know what he was talking about. Of course, that would have been stupid—he obviously knew I was here. Swallowing my pride, I grudgingly left the shop and walked over to the outdoor restaurant.

“How do you have my number?” I demanded.

Pierce gave me a funny look. “That’s what you’re surprised about?”

I sat across from him and eyed the food. It was a bowl of thick white chunks mixed with diced peppers and spices, and a side of crackers still in the plastic wrapping. Were the white chunks fish? Instead, I took a long pull from the second beer. It was called Imperial, with a black, yellow, and red label. I didn’t recognize it, but it was cold and tasted good.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Pierce gestured with his beer. “What does it look like? I’m relaxing. I’ve had a busy couple of days.”

“But you’re alone,” I protested. “You don’t have any security that I can see. What if someone robs you? Or, like, kidnaps you?”

“Nobody is going to rob or kidnap me,” he said calmly, “because nobody around here knows who I am. And I’d like to keep it that way, if you don’t mind lowering your voice.”

I winced. “Sorry.”

“You might want to put that souvenir to use,” he added. “Your hair is too nice. You stick out like… well, like an American tourist.”

Pushing aside the urge to argue with him, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and then put on the Costa Rica cap I had bought, threading my ponytail through the back.

“Much better,” Pierce said approvingly.

“Seriously though, what are you doing here?” I asked.

“I told you. Relaxing with some ceviche and a beer.”

“But why here? You’re…” I lowered my voice. “…incredibly wealthy. You have your own island and yacht. But you’re drinking dollar beers surrounded by locals.”

“You really want to know?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll tell you… after a round of chiliguaros.”

“Chili what?”

Pierce nodded to the waiter. “Dos chiliguaros, por favor.”

“What did you order?”

“You’ll find out in a minute,” Pierce replied.

I was annoyed by his presumption that I would drink whatever he ordered for me. I was tempted to walk away and figure out something to do by myself. But curiosity was eating a hole in my mind. And a drink sounded pretty good, even if it was an unknown kind.

The waiter returned with two shot glasses and a pitcher of reddish-orange liquid. Flecks of spices floated on the top of the pitcher, and poured out into our glasses as the waiter filled them. Rather than leave, the waiter stood by our side, waiting.

Pierce picked up his glass and held it up. “Pura vida.”

“Pura vida,” I repeated, then downed the shot. I tasted tomato juice, lime juice, and a hundred other complex flavors.

“Good, right?” Pierce said as he placed his glass back down.

“It’s like a happier bloody mary,” I replied, smacking my lips.

“Exactly.” Pierce nodded to the waiter, who refilled both glasses and then left. “It’s kind of the national drink of Costa Rica.”

“And pura vida? What’s that mean?”

“The direct translation is pure life,” Pierce explained while scooping up some ceviche with a cracker. “But it kind of encapsulates the vibe of the entire country. Costa Ricans are often called the happiest people on earth.”

I looked around. “I don’t know about that. San Jose seems… kind of poor.”

Pierce raised the second glass of chiliguaro. “There’s more to life than money.”

“Someone like you saying that is the height of irony,” I said while taking another shot with him.

“On the contrary,” he said. “Having too much money gives me a unique perspective on its importance.”

I tried to keep the bitterness from my laugh. “It’s funny. The people with money are always the ones who claim it doesn’t buy you happiness.”

“It does,” Pierce admitted. “But only to a point.”

I sipped on my beer as a chaser, which reminded me of something I had considered earlier. “There was nothing in the contract about alcohol consumption while being your surrogate. Or potential surrogate, I guess. Do you want me to stop drinking at some point?”

Pierce shrugged. “I’ve consulted with various fertility doctors. Obviously, the ideal scenario is for you to not drink at all while trying to conceive. Alcohol inhibits all sorts of things, not just pregnancy related. But a few drinks won’t hurt too much. As long as you stop when you’re confirmed to be pregnant.”

“Of course,” I quickly said. “Speaking of alcohol inhibiting things, I need to get some food in my stomach before I drink any more.”

“Have some ceviche,” Pierce said, scooping up more white meat onto a cracker. It was almost translucent.

“Isn’t ceviche raw fish?” I asked hesitantly.

“It’s marinated in lime juice. The citric acid cures the fish. Costa Rica has the best ceviche in the world, in my humble opinion.”

Humble opinion? Hah. “I don’t doubt you, but I’d rather order something cooked.”

“The fish tacos here are amazing, too,” Pierce said.

When the waiter came back around, I ordered three fish tacos and another beer. Pierce ordered the same, and another round of chiliguaros. This time, the waiter left the pitcher on the table for us.

“It’s not very strong,” Pierce said. “I can usually have six or seven before I feel anything.”

I didn’t say anything. I kind of felt like I was on the verge of a buzz, but that might have been my imagination.

By the time the fish tacos came out, I definitely had a nice buzz going. The tacos were made with thin chunks of fried fish, coupled with a chutney of pineapples, peppers, and onions. From the very first bite, I was in love. Grease ran down my chin as I wolfed them down.

“Right?” Pierce said while finishing his last taco.

“I could eat three more of those,” I said.

“There’s plenty of ceviche left,” Pierce teased.

“I don’t like raw fish. I hate sushi.”

“That just means you haven’t had the right kind.”

“That’s not what that means at all,” I argued playfully. “If someone hates steak, it doesn’t matter how well it’s cooked.”

Pierce shoved the last bite of his taco into his mouth and wiped his chin with a napkin. “Tell you what. Try a bite of ceviche. If you don’t like it, I’ll give you a million dollars.”

I eyed the handsome man across the table. “Seriously?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Why not?”

I glanced at the bowl of ceviche. “I don’t know…”

Pierce grabbed a cracker, scooped up some of the white meat onto it, then held it out. “A million dollars if you hate it. Right now. Let’s go.”

I leaned forward to allow him to feed me the cracker. His free hand gently cupped my chin while he delicately placed it in my mouth. I bit into it, chewing hesitantly. Pierce stared into my eyes, waiting for my reaction.

“God damnit,” I muttered. “I want that million dollars, but… I don’t hate it.”

A huge smile filled Pierce’s face. “Yeah?”

“It’s actually really good,” I admitted, reaching for another cracker.

“Let this be a lesson: you should always trust Pierce Benning.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I replied while taking another bite. The fish was so flavorful! “But you do have good taste in food.”

“I’ll take it,” he replied.

As I laughed at his satisfied expression, I couldn’t help but think about how he really did look like a regular guy. Gray tank top, cargo pants, and that faded red baseball cap. Even knowing what I knew, it was difficult to think of him as one of the richest, most influential men in the world.

“Okay,” Pierce said, refilling the glasses with chiliguaro. “You really want to know what I’m doing?”

“Very much so, yes,” I replied.

“You have to swear never to tell anyone,” he said. “I’m not making you sign an NDA or anything else. Just your word.”

“I agree,” I said. Why all the secrecy?

“I’ve been meeting with investors for the past two days to discuss my next business venture,” he began.

I leaned forward. I thought he was going to tell me what he was doing here, at this bar by himself. I didn’t expect him to tell me what his next business plan was!

“Deep under the ocean’s surface are sea currents.” He leaned closer to me and lowered his voice. “They’re like deep sea superhighways.”

My imagination began running wild. Was he planning on harnessing these currents for power? A new type of renewable energy?

“We know how most of these work, in general,” he explained. “But there are millions of little offshoots that behave unpredictably. They’re all over the world. If we can map these currents, we can create more efficient trade routes, and gather more information on global warming changes…”

I nodded along, totally entranced.

“Sea turtles use these currents all the time. I want to develop a fleet of robotic turtles that will follow the real sea turtles into these currents. They will use GPS data to help us map how strong they are, and where they go. Of course, we can’t control them remotely; they need to be able to follow the legitimate turtles in real-time. To do that, we’ll utilize artificial intelligence to copy their migratory patterns. These robotic turtles will change the world, Melinda.”

I felt my jaw hanging open in shock. I gawked at Pierce, unable to figure out what to say.

Suddenly, he pointed at me. “Got you.”

I gasped. “Oh, son of a bitch!”

He leaned back. “Ah hah hah.”

“Damnit!

“Andrew told me about the turtles down by the beach,” Pierce revealed. “Robotic imitations of animals isn’t a new concept, actually. But that’s not what my next business venture is.”

“So are you going to tell me?” I asked.

Pierce took a swig of beer. “Nope!”

I groaned, which only made him laugh harder. I finished my beer and held it up for the waiter to signal another round.

“Well, I wasn’t actually asking about that,” I said. “What I was actually asking was what are you doing here, at this little place in the middle of San Jose, all by yourself.”

Pierce finished his beer, then accepted a new one from the waiter. He stared at the bottle, his thumb brushing against the label.

“How long have you been with me? Two weeks?”

“Give or take,” I replied.

“How often have I been alone during that time?”

“You’ve been alone most of the time. It’s only in the past two days that you’ve had meetings with people. Before that, you met with Tristan a few times a day, I guess.”

Pierce was shaking his head. “That’s not what I mean. How often have I been totally alone? With nobody around me? The answer is: only at night when I’m sleeping.”

“That’s not true,” I protested. “You spent a lot of time sunbathing alone on the Bellerophon.”

“With two employees always a few feet away, prepared to do anything I ask of them,” Pierce answered. “When I exercise in the gym, there’s an attendant nearby. When I watch TV in the theater room, there’s a servant standing by the door, waiting to get me drinks or snacks. At all times, I’m surrounded by people who work for me. Even when it’s just Andrew or Tristan, who I consider my friends, I’m not alone.”

“You have control over that,” I pointed out. “You can make everyone leave. If you want solitude, it’s a single command away.”

Pierce waved his beer bottle. “Sure, but that’s not the point. Out here, I can change my clothes and blend in a little. Most people on the street can tell I’m an American at a single glance, but they don’t know who I really am. It’s the closest thing I can get to feeling… normal.”

A week ago, I would have laughed in his face. The poor billionaire who just wants to blend in. How sad! But Pierce was actually being vulnerable with me, opening up in a way that I hadn’t expected. And after spending two weeks with him, surrounded by servants and employees, I kind of understood where he was coming from.

“That’s why I’m here,” he finished. “It’s one of the rare times I can have an authentic human experience with a place. It’s the only time I ever get to be alone.”

A pang of guilt filled me. “Sorry for stalking you. I should have left you alone.”

Pierce shrugged. “I knew you would follow me.”

I gave a start. “Why?”

“Because,” he replied, “I’ve been ignoring you for the past two days, which annoyed you.”

“What?” I sputtered. “I am not!”

Pierce gave me a flat look. “Melinda. I wouldn’t claim to know you extremely well, but I have been around you enough to get some understanding. You don’t hide your emotions. You wear them on your face. And it’s obvious that you’ve been annoyed since we arrived on my island.”

“Okay, fine.” I put my beer down next to the other three empties. “You flew me onto your yacht at a moment’s notice. Apparently you’ve been waiting two years to find the perfect surrogate, which I still don’t fully believe. And as soon as I sign the contract… you ignore me. First on the Bellerophon, and then on your island. Yes, I’m annoyed that you’ve been ignoring me.”

With all the calmness of an attorney making their case, Pierce said, “I was giving you some space. I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

I barked a laugh. “You made me sign a contract stating that I’ll fuck you, and now you’re worried about me feeling pressured? Please.”

Pierce didn’t rise to anger. Instead, he began ticking points off on his fingers. “First of all, I didn’t make you sign anything. You’re an adult with agency, and you chose to sign a contract in good faith. Secondly, you don’t have to fuck me. You aren’t required to do anything. As you pointed out, you can ride out the contract and collect the base amount of money when six months is up. And thirdly, yes, I do care about whether or not you feel pressured. I want to have a child. An heir. I want you to be the surrogate, ideally through natural conception. But I don’t think of you as just a carrier for this child. I respect that you’re a woman with her own feelings, ambitions, and desires. A good contract is one where everyone walks away happy. So, yes, I want you to be content with your decisions without any extra pressure. I’m not trying to get what I want and then throw you to the curb. You’re a person, not just an attractive stork.”

Although he spoke calmly, there was a passion deep beneath the words. Pierce wasn’t just saying what he needed to placate me—he meant everything he said. He did care about my feelings.

“I don’t feel pressured,” I said. “And I’m grateful that you see me as a person, and not someone you just want to use. But I’m antsy, Pierce. After ten days on the yacht, and two days on your island, I’m sick of sitting around doing nothing. I’m used to doing things!”

Pierce pulled out some Costa Rican currency and tucked it under the pitcher of chiliguaro. “Then let’s do something. Come on.”

He got up, took my hand, and led me out into the throng of pedestrians on the street.

14

Melinda

Despite being dark out, the streets of San Jose were still packed with people. Pierce’s fingers held my hand tightly as he guided me along, turning right down a larger street, and then left along a smaller alley. He seemed to know where he was going, although it seemed impossible without marked street signs.

“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked.

“Of course it is,” he replied.

I hoped he was right. I was outside my comfort zone, and felt a tingle of anxiety as we delved deeper into the city.

After ten minutes of crowded streets and twisting alleys, we came to a nondescript door behind a restaurant. Pierce knocked; the man who opened the door looked like he wore a permanent scowl, and scanned us up-and-down. Pierce slapped some money into his hand with a handshake, and the man stepped aside.

We descended a narrow staircase, passed through two more doors, and then emerged into a larger space. House music that was muffled by two stories of cement was thumping loudly here, with bulbs of multi-colored LEDs that rotated and spun, giving the room a chaotic, playful feel. The space in the middle of the room was crowded with dancing bodies.

“You dance?” I asked.

Pierce gave me a funny look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I…” I trailed off. Since arriving on his yacht, I had made a lot of assumptions about Pierce Benning. I was beginning to realize how off-the-mark I was.

But for once, I didn’t mind being wrong.

Pierce led me over to the bar, where he grinned and spoke hurried Spanish to the bartender, who seemed to know him. Two shots of rum were poured; we clinked the shots together and then each downed them. The liquor burned down my throat and settled warmly in my stomach.

“Let’s see what moves the billionaire has,” I said over the sound of the music.

He gave me a playful glare. “Be cool. To the people here, I’m just some white guy.”

“Sorry. I’ll try not to say the B-word.” I glanced around. “Do you really not have any bodyguards hiding somewhere?”

Ignoring my question, he took my hand again. “Let’s go find those moves you wanted to see.”

Out onto the dance floor we went, finding some space near the middle. A DJ was up on a platform at the end of the area, nodding along to the beat. Pierce took my hand and held it against his chest, then grabbed my hip with the other hand.

And then we danced.

It was immediately obvious that Pierce knew what he was doing. He was smooth and coordinated, more than most men I had known in my life, although I wasn’t sure what we were dancing. Like the music, it was a strange mixture of salsa, hip-hop, and club techno. Fast and upbeat and full of life.

“Relax!” Pierce shouted over the music. “You’re all stiff. Loosen up!”

I realized that up to that point, I had been extremely self-conscious since arriving on the Bellerophon. I was aware that I was around a billionaire and his servants, and that I was just some regular person by comparison. Even when I thought I was relaxing by the pool, that deeper awareness permeated everything.

I let go of that assumption and allowed the music—and alcohol—to guide my motions as we danced together. And for the first time since signing that insane contract, I felt like myself again. I felt normal, but in a good way. Pierce and I swayed and stepped and moved together, finding our rhythm on the dance floor along with all the other people who just wanted to forget their problems for an evening.

The music changed, but we kept dancing. And dancing. And dancing. When I threw a new twist into the dance, Pierce picked up on it instantly and reacted in time. When he raised my hand above my head, I immediately spun in a circle like he intended. We were natural dance partners, operating on the same wavelength despite all our differences.

He wiped some sweat away from his temple, pulled me close while gazing deeply into my eyes, and then launched into the next gyration.

The more we danced, the more I realized something else: Pierce was more than just a billionaire. When you stripped away all the money, and yachts, and servants, he was just a man like anyone else.

A sexy man, one who I didn’t want to take my hands off of.

He continued smiling and gazing into my eyes as we danced, the eye contact as intimate as the closeness of our hips. My body ached for him in a primal way, a way that transcended words and appearances and ridiculous surrogacy contracts. It was the longing that had existed between humans as long as there had been humans. A screaming urgency in the back of my head that said one thing in big, bold letters:

Mate with this man.

Once I realized that I wanted him, it was all I could think about. We possessed each other’s space, sharing breath and scent and touch. I let my fingers caress his cheek, and he responded by squeezing his fingers around my hip, brushing against the edges of my ass. Unhappy with his respect for my boundaries, I grabbed his hand and placed it firmly on my ass. His fingertips dug into my jeans and he smiled more deeply as we gyrated together in time with the music.

When the song ended, both of us were breathless. And before I could change my mind, I stood on my tip-toes and whispered in his ear: “Let’s get out of here.”

“You have somewhere in mind?”

“Somewhere private.”

He gave my ass a final squeeze. “I have just the place.”

We raced through the streets of San Jose, dodging other pedestrians and motorbikes that puttered through the masses. We made it to the stadium where his helicopter was parked, darting through the gate and past the bored looking guard.

Then we rounded a corner, veiled in darkness and privacy, and Pierce threw me up against the wall and kissed me. I was desperate for the kiss by this point, and my body came alive as his lips churned against mine. My chest surged upward with need as he pressed himself against me, closer than we had been on the dance floor—hips and chests and arms and mouths connecting erotically.

Pierce ripped his lips away and then nuzzled at my neck. “God, I want you.”

“I need you,” I replied breathlessly.

“Here?” he asked, squeezing a handful of my ass again.

God, it was tempting. To tear our pants down and let him take me right here in the darkness. But I shook my head. “Not here. Not yet.”

He kissed a trail up to my earlobe, and then he was taking my hand and pulling me into the stadium proper, onto the grass of the field. The helicopter stood where we had left it, the pilot sitting in the cockpit with his feet propped up and a book balanced on his knees.

“Take us home, if you please,” Pierce said as we jumped into the passenger cabin.

“Right away sir, ma’am.”

Pierce pressed a button, and a divider slid shut between the cockpit, giving us privacy. I briefly wondered about the pilot, if he had some way to see us back here, but I forgot all about that as Pierce dove on me again, pushing me down into the cushions and flipping the latch on the side that lowered the seat back until we had a flatter surface.

He pulled my shirt off, then did the same with his tank top. His chest was just as I remembered it, tan and muscular and perfect. I reached out to drag my fingernails over it, to feel him with my own hands, but he snatched my wrist and pinned it beside my head.

Pierce leaned in to kiss me, pausing with his lips at the edge of touching. Lingering there at the moment before connection, when my entire body buzzed with desire for him. I could feel the same burning need coming off his skin like heat, but he held himself back. Instead, Pierce moved his lips down my neck, across my chest, and back up over my arm in a flurry of not-kisses. I arched my back, squirming underneath his strong grasp, practically begging him with everything but words.

“Kiss me,” I breathed.

“I will,” he promised.

“Why wait?”

“Because,” he replied with a grin, “it’s more fun to tease it out.”

The whine of the engine intensified, and then the helicopter gently rose into the air. That surprised me for a moment, which Pierce seized upon. Suddenly he was kissing my chest, along the breastbone above my bra. I sighed underneath him as he kissed all over my body, actually touching my skin with his lips this time, doubling the pleasure that I might have felt without the teasing. He let go of my wrist and I instantly reached for the back of his head, threading my fingers into his silky smooth hair and holding him against my chest.

The helicopter banked slightly; Pierce paused and gripped the seat until we leveled out again. Both of us giggled, then he dove on me with new urgency, his tongue dancing into my mouth in exactly the way I needed.

Like we had on the dance floor, our bodies undulated and gyrated together, grinding through our clothes.

Seconds or minutes or hours later, we were both sick of our cloth constraints. I unclasped my bra and he pulled my jeans down over my legs, then the panties, and I was nude and vulnerable beneath him. He stood—as best as he could in the cabin—and slowly unbuttoned his cargo pants, removing them so slowly that it could have been called a strip tease. When they finally fell to the floor, I bit my lip at the sight of what he revealed. He was big, but not too big. Thick, but not too thick.

The glimpse only lasted a heartbeat, because then Pierce was on top of me again, covering my vulnerability with his hard body. He was warm, so warm, especially the long rod that radiated heat more than any other part of him. I reached down between us to squeeze him, and he raised up slightly—not to give me room to grasp, but to give himself room to spread my legs and slide his fingers on either side of my drenched sex. I squirmed at his teasing touch, just out of reach, then let out a long moan as his fingers finally found their true destination.

He rubbed my pussy in a circle, thumb paying extra attention to my clit with every rotation. Finally, my own hand found what it was looking for and I squeezed his hard length between my fingers. Pierce grunted and groaned deep in his throat, then kissed me more fiercely. His moans urged me to stroke him faster, which led to him fingering me more fervently, which made me moan louder, and repeated so on in a cycle of pleasure that built and built until neither of us could take it any longer. Pierce pulled back, guiding himself lower into the wet folds of my sex.

“Wait,” I breathed.

Pierce froze. “What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, I burst out laughing.

“That’s… not the reaction I was hoping to get,” Pierce said.

“No, it’s just that… I was about to tell you to put on a condom,” I explained.

Pierce stared at me a moment longer, then laughed too. “Okay, that is funny.”

“Right?”

Our smiles faded, and then I wrapped a hand around his neck and leaned up to kiss him again, all humor long forgotten. The tip of his cock continued sliding up and down my slit, a sensation which was delightful and inadequate at the same time. I caught a smirk on Pierce’s face between kisses; he was enjoying torturing me.

We’ll see about that.

I wrapped my legs around him, then squeezed as hard as I could. His crown plunged into my pussy, followed by six or seven stiff inches, filling me in the way that I so desperately needed.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, tilting his head back.

I arched my back and savored him, then grabbed him by the hair and pulled him down into another kiss. There was no more room for teasing now; rather than enjoying our moment of coupling, Pierce’s hips moved back and forth, gyrating like they had on the dance floor. I moved my own hips in time with him, adding my half of the effort to our erotic dance.

Fireworks of pleasure exploded inside my body as he fucked me steadily. And just like at the dance club, I forgot about all the other complications surrounding us. The helicopter we were in, the private island we were flying to, and the servants waiting for us there. At that moment, Pierce wasn’t a billionaire. He was just a gorgeous man in my arms.

A shuddering orgasm shook me—Pierce kissed me passionately as I cried out, swallowing my sweaty cries while pumping faster. His cock crashed into me over and over, extending my intense ecstasy. Then he pulled back and drank in the sight of me, his green eyes wide and eager. If I wasn’t already coming, that gaze alone might have done it.

And then, in a blink, the helicopter turned. It wasn’t too sharp, but it was enough to catch Pierce off guard. He fell sideways, hitting his shoulder on the wall of the cabin and groaning.

I jumped off the chair and knelt above him. “Are you okay? Pierce?”

“I’m fine; only my pride is bruised,” he said with a wince.

“Are you sure?”

He responded by grabbing my waist and pulling me on top of him. He thrust upward, his hard length sliding back into place where it belonged.

“Very sure.”

I moaned, still feeling the intense aftermath of my orgasm. I ground my hips into him for a few seconds, savoring the fullness that I felt once again, before I began riding him more properly.

I arched my back as I moved up and down on his cock. My legs were surprisingly tired after dancing, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I planted my palms on Pierce’s broad chest and began picking up steam as I rode him. He grabbed my ass with both hands, squeezing and guiding me up and down.

“How long have you been fantasizing about getting a handful?” I purred at him.

“Since the moment you signed the second contract,” he replied.

I cocked my head without slowing down. “Not since the surrogacy company sent you my file?”

He grinned up at me. “That’s when I started thinking about your ass.” His palm pulled back and smacked me lightly on the ass cheek. “I didn’t begin fantasizing until your signature had dried.”

Emphasizing the words as I drove down on his cock, I said, “Somehow I doubt you showed such restraint.”

“I don’t like to fantasize about something unless I know I can have it.”

“You didn’t have me, even after I signed the contract,” I said, practically moaning each word.

“You mean how you could have sat by the pool for six months and collected the money?” he asked, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “That wasn’t going to happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Pierce shrugged and grinned up at me, his hips thrusting a little bit with every downstroke I made. I realized in that moment that he was right. Once I signed the contract, I had intended to sleep with him. The bonuses involved were too great not to.

And, more importantly, he’s absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Pierce sat up and took one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking gently and swirling his tongue around the outside. I responded by riding him even faster, ignoring the burning exhaustion in my thighs. Another climax was building, this time for both of us, and I desperately needed the release—even more than the first orgasm. Pierce must have felt the same way, because he began guiding my ass up and down in his lap as my legs began to falter. Soon I was slamming my weight down on him with every stroke, the angle of his cock hitting all the right places inside me.

“Melinda,” he moaned, cradling the back of my neck and holding my face close to his. “Jesus, Melinda…”

“Yeah?”

He tried to say something else, but all that came out was a moan. His emerald eyes widened with shock and an ecstasy so powerful it almost seemed painful. His jaw chewed at the air, and he thrust up inside of me one final time.

Then his cock exploded.

I’d never let a guy come inside me before. It didn’t feel any different than if he was wearing a condom, but knowing what was happening heightened the pleasure to new levels. His cock shuddered and spasmed while Pierce moaned loudly, and I imagined I could feel his come shooting into me. Filling me with his potent seed.

All of it turned me on so much that another orgasm of my own hit me like a wave against the Bellerophon. I screamed with intense pleasure, adding my voice to Pierce’s in the helicopter cabin. I clamped my inner muscles around his cock, squeezing like I was milking him for every drop. With his hand still on the back of my neck, he pulled me into a rough, ragged kiss, then kept our foreheads together for the final few aftershocks.

15

Melinda

Pierce and I remained like that, bodies locked together on the floor of the helicopter, until our breathing leveled out and Pierce went soft. Finally, I said, “That was… wow.”

“Wow isn’t the word I was going to use,” he whispered, our mouths still close together. “I was going to say extraordinary.”

“That works, too.” I kissed a bead of sweat off his forehead, then smoothed back his hair. “I have an embarrassing confession.”

Pierce frowned. “Let’s hear it.”

“I don’t know what to do next. To maximize the chances of conception, I mean. Do I need to, like, lay on my back with my legs against the wall? Will that help gravity work better?”

Pierce laughed richly. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“Sure, but shouldn’t we find out? There’s a lot of paperwork and money involved in conceiving your child.”

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure,” he said, gently peppering my face with kisses. “If we’re still worrying about this in a few months, then we can try every trick in the book.”

“Okay.” I kissed him one final time, then put an unsteady foot underneath myself and stood up.

And gasped as a trickle of semen ran out of my vagina and down my leg.

“Shit!” I said, panicking. “What should I do?”

Laughing, Pierce said, “It’s fine. Seriously.”

“But it’s falling out!”

He stood up, cupped my cheek, and gave me a reassuring kiss. “Trust me: I came a lot. There’s plenty still inside you to hopefully get the job done.”

“Okay.” I shivered.

He handed me a cloth towel. “Cold?”

“No,” I said while cleaning myself up. “Well, I mean, yes, a little. But I was shivering thinking about your sperm inside me. Swimming towards, hopefully, an egg.”

“I’m sure it’s weird doing this for real, after thinking about it for so long.”

“Yes! Exactly!” I agreed.

He took me in his arms and gave me a long hug. When he pulled away, he seemed concerned. “If you’re not ready, then it’s okay to say so. You can back out of the contract at any point.”

I gave a start. “Why would I want to back out?”

“If you suddenly realized you’re not ready,” Pierce explained while pulling his pants on. “I’ve been in a lot of situations in my life where I thought I was ready, but then balked at the starting gate. That’s okay, Melinda. I want you to be totally comfortable every step of the process. I didn’t offer you the contract with the hopes that I would come inside you once and then say ah hah, gotcha!”

I chuckled, then reached for my own clothes. “That’s nice to know. But it’s okay. I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?”

I nodded. “As sure as I’m ever going to be.”

The intercom on the wall crackled to life. “I’m ready to touch down on the island, Mr. Benning.”

Pierce gave me a confused look, then pressed the intercom button. “Why are you saying it like that?”

“Well, sir, there’s another helicopter occupying the landing zone. I assumed you knew about it.”

Pierce and I pressed our faces to the window. The island mansion was illuminated below us, a bright spot where the jungle met the beach. And sitting on the helicopter pad was another aircraft, this one emblazoned with the blue, white, and red Costa Rica flag. The rotors were still spinning.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

Pierce chuckled and shook his head. “I think I know who. I was expecting his visit sooner than now.” He pressed the intercom button. “Tell them to clear the pad for us to land.”

“Looks like they figured it out on their own,” the pilot replied. Sure enough, the helicopter was already rising into the air, banking sharply over the jungle to get out of our way.

By the time we touched down, both of us were fully dressed. The door to the helicopter was opened by a servant, and Pierce stepped onto firm ground and extended a hand to help me down. Three suited men were walking toward us, with Andrew and Tristan flanking them on each side.

“He insisted on waiting,” Tristan called out to us.

As I got a closer look at the men, I realized the three of them weren’t walking together. One of them, older, was leading the way, while the other two men followed protectively. An important man and his bodyguards.

“Rodrigo,” Pierce said warmly. “I wouldn’t have kept you waiting if I had known you were coming.”

Rodrigo, the older man in the middle, smiled. “We were not waiting long. I would have sent word of my arrival, but I did not wish to be intrusive.”

He extended his hand, but Pierce went in for a full-body hug, clapping the man on the back. That surprised Rodrigo, and confused me—until I remembered where Pierce’s fingers had just been.

Andrew leaned close to me and whispered, “Rodrigo Robles. President of Costa Rica.”

I clapped my palm over my mouth to keep from gasping. Fortunately, nobody was paying any attention to me. The President of Costa Rica is here to see Pierce. And their meeting was almost delayed because we were having sex.

“Sorry for my appearance,” Pierce said. “We just got back from dancing, and I like to keep a low profile. Come! Let’s get drinks on the outdoor terrace. It’s a beautiful night. I’ll meet you there after I freshen up.”

Rodrigo and his bodyguards walked away, guided by Tristan. Andrew remained with us, extending a tray with several steaming towels rolled into tight cylinders. “How do you feel about casual attire? It’s a pleasant evening, but if the wind picks up it could get chilly…”

“Whatever you think is best,” Pierce said, taking one of the towels and wiping his hands with it, then his face. He turned to me. “I had a wonderful evening, Melinda, but unfortunately that man requires my immediate attention. I would tell you to wait up, but unfortunately Rodrigo can be… long-winded.”

“I understand,” I said.

He glanced toward the mansion to ensure the other men were gone, wrapped me in his arms, and kissed me one final time. Strangely, it didn’t bother me that Andrew was standing right there.

“Thanks for understanding,” Pierce said. “I promise to make it up to you.” He gave me a wink, then began walking away.

“Wait!” I said.

He turned around.

“There’s something about your contract I wanted to make you aware of,” I said.

Both men cocked their heads. “Oh?” Pierce asked.

I hesitated, then decided there was no point in holding back. “There’s a loophole in the contract. All of the incentives for getting pregnant and eventually giving birth to a healthy baby… They don’t require a paternity test. They don’t even say you have to be the conceiving father. I would never, of course, but… I wanted to make sure you were aware.”

Pierce, to my immense surprise, looked relieved. “Thanks for letting me know, but it’s not a problem.”

“It’s not?”

His laugh was carefree. “Of course. It’s not a loophole; the contract was written that way by design.”

My billionaire lover and his valet walked into the mansion, leaving me dumbstruck on the helicopter pad.

16

Pierce

Extraordinary.

That was the best word to describe the first time Melinda and I made love. Extraordinary. People often romanticized their first time, making it out to be more perfect than it actually was. In truth, it was usually an awkward, fumbling affair while two people learned how to communicate through the language of sex. Which was fine; communication, in every form, took time to perfect.

But not with Melinda. The two of us had an undeniable chemistry together, intuitively sensing what the other wanted. Just like on the dance floor, we were naturally in sync. That was rare.

It was extraordinary.

“A fine vintage,” Rodrigo said, smacking his lips after tasting the wine. “I am quite fond of reds.”

I gave him a measured smile. “So I remembered. I had a crate of their bottles from 2003 delivered after our last visit.” In truth, it was Andrew who had made note of the preference and taken steps to ensure we always had some here at the island. But Rodrigo didn’t need to know those details. For all intents and purposes, Andrew—and Tristan—were heads of the triumvirate that was the entire Pierce Benning experience.

“Your daughter is well, I hope?” I asked, although I knew the answer.

Rodrigo smiled fondly. “She is indeed. I was just speaking with her on the phone from her dorm…”

While the President told me a story of his daughter’s first semester at college, my mind began to drift back to the events of the evening. Catching Melinda following me through the city, and then winning her over with local drinks and food. Dancing until we were sweaty and exhausted and grinning from ear to ear.

And on the helicopter…

I could still taste her on my lips, and feel her skin beneath my palm—as smooth as silk. It didn’t matter that it had just happened; the curve of her ass was now etched into my mind as permanently as if it were chiseled into stone. The way she arched her back and gazed up at me with longing as I gripped her waist, driving my cock into her hungrily, barely maintaining my restraint…

…and then exploding inside Melinda, filling her with my seed? It was all I could think about. It was worth the two weeks of patience.

I couldn’t wait to do it again. This was, after all, only the beginning.

And then there was the contract loophole she pointed out as we parted. She was a sharp one to notice that. Or maybe it was her lawyer. Either way, pointing it out to me—to her own detriment—demonstrated that she was a moral person. That was a relief to me. I had suspected as much from her, but it was nice to know for certain that the potential mother of my child was fundamentally good.

“That’s wonderful,” I said, responding to Rodrigo’s last comment about his daughter. I refilled his wine glass from the bottle and then said, “I’m always delighted to see you when I’m visiting Costa Rica, but I’m assuming you aren’t just here for the wine?”

Rodrigo smiled warmly. “Your company is a treasure all on its own.” The smile changed into a contemplative expression. “I have, however, noticed the arrival and departure of many noteworthy people over the last two days. Men and women with significant wealth and power. Mario, my Minister of Public Security, believes a coup is imminent.”

I forced myself to laugh. “A coup? Rodrigo, friend, surely…”

Rodrigo waved a dismissive hand. “Mario is paranoid, of course. He sees monsters in every shadow when he walks down the street. However, I am hoping you could illuminate the purpose of these meetings you have been hosting, as a way to ease Mario’s mind.”

Ah, so that’s how he’s choosing to snoop. I was certain that Mario Zamora Cordero, the Minister of Defense, did not believe I was orchestrating a coup against the President. That was just the pretext to try to learn what everyone else wanted to know: the subject of my next project.

“You can tell Mario that your job—and, by extension, his—is safe,” I reassured him. I blinked, and the image of Melinda on top of me flashed into my mind, craning her head back and moaning inside the helicopter. I shook it off and said, “I have been meeting with investors to secure potential funding for my next venture.”

“Ah, of course.” Rodrigo chuckled. “I should have known it was related to that famous Pierce Benning ingenuity. Of course, please know that the nation of Costa Rica and its resources are, within reason, at your disposal. Regardless of the direction of your next venture, I hope there is some way we may be involved.”

“If there is, you will be the first man to know,” I promised.

“I wish only to help.” Rodrigo raised his glass. “Especially if this new venture is in the same realm as your previous one. I do not need to remind you that our nation has generated over 98% of its electricity from renewable resources…”

As the President launched into what was clearly a memorized stump speech, I allowed my mind to wander again to the new woman in my life, and all the things I wish I was doing to her at that moment.

17

Melinda

I woke up the next morning wondering if it had all been a dream.

A sweaty, sexy dream.

But as I rolled over in bed and used the remote control to open the electric curtains, giving me a beautiful view of the sun rising over the Caribbean Sea, I knew it wasn’t a dream. It had happened—all of it. I had spent much of last night in bed reliving every detail. As far as first dates went—if you could call it that—it was about as perfect as one could be.

Even if he did ditch me the moment we got back to his island mansion.

Of course, there was a valid excuse. The President of Costa Rica showing up unannounced was a good reason to say goodnight early. It was a reminder that Pierce Benning was a very rich, very famous, and very powerful man.

As I took a shower, I had to remind myself of something else: that it wasn’t a first date. Pierce and I weren’t dating. I was strictly his surrogate.

But the natural form of conception certainly complicated matters. I was already thinking of him as someone I’m seeing, rather than just my employer. That was a problem. I needed to remember that we had signed a contract. This was, at its core, a business transaction.

That didn’t mean it couldn’t be fun while it lasted.

I got dressed and thought about the fact that Pierce had come inside of me last night. Right now, his seed was swimming along, trying to accomplish what they were designed to do. Even though it was the most natural, common thing humans did, it was kind of gross to think about. Not semen itself—that certainly didn’t gross me out at all. But semen wiggling around inside of me. I couldn’t actually feel anything, but my imagination was making my skin itch just a little bit.

I wonder if it’s working.

Just going off of the odds, I probably wasn’t going to get pregnant on the first try. I had just stopped taking my birth control. I had three separate friends with kids, and it took all of them months to conceive. Heck, one of them tried for three years before finally getting pregnant!

It was exhilarating to think about, though. Exhilarating, and gross, and terrifying all at the same time.

Tristan was sitting on the outdoor terrace sipping a coffee. A half-eaten omelet and bagel were on a plate in front of him, but he was focused on a tablet balanced on his knees.

“You look sharp this morning,” I told him. He was wearing a tan suit and white sunglasses that complimented his complexion.

“I am always dressed the same way, regardless of the day,” he replied.

I grabbed the remains of his bagel and took a bite. “Geez, learn to take a compliment.”

He lowered his sunglasses to look at me. “You may order your own breakfast, of course.”

“Why let this go to waste?” I replied with my mouth full. The way Tristan rolled his eyes put a big smile on my face.

One of the kitchen staff was at my side moments later. I ordered my own meal and a coffee.

“Another ristretto, Mr. Lowe?”

“Please.”

“What’s a ristretto?” I asked. “Is that like an espresso?”

“In the sense that a pebble is like the moon,” Tristan replied dryly.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It is a drink made for kings and scholars. It is nothing like an espresso.”

The servant returned a moment later with my coffee and Tristan’s drink in a smaller cup. “Hi, excuse me, what exactly is a ristretto?”

“It is a very strong coffee drink,” the white-clad man replied. “It is very similar to an espresso, but with less liquid. It is more concentrated.”

“Very similar to an espresso,” I repeated, carefully not looking at Tristan. “Interesting. Thank you for the explanation.”

After he was gone, I turned my smile toward Tristan. The scowl on his face could have melted paint. He noisily turned his chair until he was facing the water—away from me.

While sipping my coffee and enjoying the view, I thought again about last night. When I first agreed to the second surrogacy contract, my biggest fear was that sex with Pierce would be uncomfortable. Or, worse, outright bad. I had assumed that a billionaire like him was used to women throwing themselves at him, to the point that they didn’t need to put in any effort. I could live with that, however it was a concern.

But having sex with Pierce easily cleared the low bar of bad. In fact, it was downright fantastic. I certainly didn’t expect to come the first time, let alone twice. We connected on so many levels last night. Aside from the fact that we were flying back to his private island on his private helicopter, I never would have known he was a billionaire.

He was intelligent, successful, good looking, and he was a great lover? Out of all the people who might have picked me to be their surrogate, I couldn’t believe how lucky I was that it was Pierce. It made me laugh.

“And what do you find so funny this morning?” Tristan asked in that proper English accent. “Surely you are not still dwelling on my choice of morning caffeine source.”

“Nothing. I was thinking about last night, is all.”

“The evening you and Pierce spent together, or the sultry aftermath?”

I was glad he was facing away from me, because it meant he couldn’t see my shocked expression. “How do you know about that? He told you?”

Tristan turned back to me and smiled. “Pierce told me nothing of your evening, although it was not necessary. It was quite clear what activity the two of you had engaged in when you stepped off the aircraft and greeted the President of Costa Rica. I had notified Pierce ahead of time, yet he was not checking his phone. That could mean only one thing.”

“It could have meant several things,” I muttered.

“Perhaps. But in this case, the disheveled state of your hair and his flushed cheeks clearly indicated what had transpired on your return journey.”

“You know, it’s awfully rude to just blurt that out to someone over their morning espresso,” I shot back at him.

Tristan removed his glasses and patted the air calmly. “I apologize. Occasionally I forget that my bluntness is not usually received well. However, I was involved in the drawing up of the surrogacy contract, so you could say that I have some interest in the success or failure of the arrangement. Suffice to say I am pleased that you and Pierce have come to mutually enjoy the contract.”

“Apology accepted,” I muttered. Tristan regarded me with those blue-gray eyes for a moment longer, nodded slightly, and then returned to whatever was occupying his attention on the tablet.

His mention of the contract reminded me of another detail that I had forgotten about in all the helicopter sex excitement. When I had pointed out the loophole in the contract, Pierce replied that it was by design. What did that even mean? How could such a huge oversight be by design?

There were two explanations that I could think of. Either Pierce was downplaying the situation in order to cover up the embarrassment of the loophole, or he had misheard me. The helicopter rotors were still spinning down at the time, so maybe he thought I had said something else. Not to mention the fact that he had the freaking President of Costa Rica waiting for him. He was rushed.

And, perhaps, he was still lightheaded from the mind-blowing sex. Even I had to admit that was probably a cocky assumption, but it was still a possibility: that I had fucked Pierce Benning so thoroughly that he couldn’t think straight.

I chuckled to myself again, which drew another look from Tristan.

“What are we laughing about this morning?” Pierce said as he strode onto the terrace. He wore baggy Italian pants and a blue linen shirt unbuttoned all the way down the front, revealing a sliver of his tan chest. Images from last night flashed into my attention, and I had to consciously push them down.

“We’re laughing about Tristan’s choice in coffee,” I replied.

“Oh, God. Don’t get him started.”

“Too late,” both Tristan and I muttered at the same time. He shared a smile with me briefly, then turned back to his tablet.

Instead of sitting at the head of the outdoor table, Pierce pulled the chair over next to me and kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t listen to him. A ristretto is just an espresso dialed up to eleven.”

“You will not push my buttons this morning,” Tristan muttered.

“But it’s so easy.” Pierce put his arm across the back of my chair and gently caressed my arm. “Sorry for abandoning you last night.”

A kiss on the cheek and affectionate touching, I thought. Maybe last night felt like a first date to him, too. That wasn’t a bad thing, I supposed.

“If it were anyone else, I would’ve been offended. But the President of the country we’re in? You weren’t abandoning me at all. Did the meeting go well?”

A servant arrived with my breakfast and Pierce’s. He thanked the man, then told me, “The meeting was unnecessary. Rodrigo got wind of all the meetings I was orchestrating here and assumed, correctly, that I was preparing for my next business venture. He claimed he wanted to offer his help. It was a waste of time.”

“No meeting that strengthens relationships is a waste of time,” Tristan said. It sounded like he was quoting someone.

“I hate it when you use my words against me,” Pierce said. “But it was obvious that Rodrigo had no real interest in helping me. He just wanted information on what I’m working on.”

I took a bite of bacon and asked, “What are you working on?”

Pierce laughed. “She lasted longer than you expected. What did you guess, five days?”

“Four, actually,” Tristan replied.

“I was the one who guessed five days,” Andrew said while joining us at the table. He flashed a warm, boyish smile. “Although I’m glad to be wrong.”

“Happy to exceed your expectations,” I replied. After a few moments, I added, “Seriously, though. What’s the next big thing?”

Pierce finished a bite of eggs, wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, then put it down. “Do you mind if I’m straightforward with you?”

“I appreciate bluntness, most of the time,” I said slowly.

“I talk about business all day. Everyone I meet, everyone I interact with, grills me about what’s next. What am I working on. Where’s the next direction I’m turning my attention. It wears me down, Melinda. I know you and I have an unorthodox relationship, but if it’s okay with you, could we not talk business? Last night was so refreshing because I could just be myself without all of that baggage.”

“Absolutely,” I said, putting a hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry for asking.”

“No apology needed!” he replied cheerfully. “I was being blunt for the sake of simplicity, not because I was upset.”

Relieved, I returned to my breakfast.

“What plans do you have today?” Pierce asked me.

“Oh, nothing really,” I replied. “What about you?”

He gave me a sideways smile. “Oh, there’s nothing concrete on the schedule. But I have some ideas.”

18

Melinda

After breakfast, Andrew suggested that Pierce show me his collection of Italian art. The billionaire took me by the hand and led me into the parlor, which had a billiard’s table, several couches, a few chairs for lounging, and walls that were covered with art.

I quickly stopped caring about the Italian Renaissance as he pushed me up against the wall and kissed me with as much passion and desperation as I remembered from last night.

“Do you use that pickup line often?” I asked between hurried kisses. “You want to see my Italian art collection?”

“It works every time,” he replied before practically ripping my pants down. I gasped as he lifted me into his arms, pushing me back against the wall. Within seconds, his own pants were down around his ankles and he was lowering me onto his stiff cock. I was already drenched, and he slid into me with wonderful ease.

The door was closed, but I was keenly aware that the mansion was filled with servants and assistants. Despite that, I couldn’t help but let out a long moan of ecstasy as Pierce held me against the wall and fucked me, holding me in his arms and pounding me with barely-restrained desire until the priceless paintings rattled so hard I was afraid they would fall off their mountings.

Then I closed my eyes, savored the mindless drive of our bodies, and stopped caring about the stupid art.

After two weeks of boredom, the next three days were a flurry of activity. Pierce and I were screwing like rabbits—three or four times a day. Pierce’s hunger for me was insatiable, pouncing on me no matter the hour. Which I didn’t mind, because I was absolutely loving being his sexy surrogate.

And when we weren’t getting sweaty in the bedroom, we were getting sweaty together via traditional exercise. Pierce biked for an hour in the gym every morning before breakfast. One morning, I got a cup of coffee from the kitchen—there was always someone there, waiting in case we needed anything—and sat in the gym to watch.

“You going to sit there and enjoy the view?” he asked. He was wearing neon green bike shorts, but nothing else. His chest was sweaty and chiseled as he hunched over the bike, pumping his legs.

“Mmm hmm,” I replied, taking a long sip of coffee.

I did enjoy watching him. In fact, I was pretty damn wet at the sight of him exercising. And when he was done, he grabbed a handful of my hair and gave me a sweaty kiss, spun me around, and bent me over the exercise bike. After yanking down my sweatpants, he buried his cock into me from behind.

“Is that what you were waiting for?” he growled.

I replied with a long moan of agreement.

Pierce kept my hair in a tight fist as he fucked me like that, tugging slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me that I was totally in his control. And when I surrendered to his sexual whim, I loved it. Soon I was rubbing my clit between my legs and arching my back for him, until we were both crying out in the gym and coming together, my inner walls trembling along with his pulsing cock as he gushed inside of me.

Then we ate breakfast together on the terrace, watching the sunrise and smiling happily.

Pierce also went for a long run every afternoon. After watching him leave several days in a row, I put on my own running gear and met him down by the stairs leading to the beach. I was stretching when he arrived.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“What does it look like?” I picked that exact moment to bend over to touch my toes, stretching my hamstrings out. And, of course, giving him a view of my ass in the skin-tight shorts.

“It looks like you want to distract me from my long run,” he said with a half-grin.

“If you’re distracted, that’s your own fault.” I slowly stood back up and looked over my shoulder at him. “I’m here to innocently join you on your run.”

“If you can keep up,” he said.

I snorted. “I may not have played collegiate sports in several years, but I still go to the gym three times a week.”

“Oh, then you should have no problem sticking with me. Let’s go.”

But as he started his Garmin watch and jogged down the stairs, I wondered why he had said it in such a cocky tone.

We started running on the beach. That was difficult since our shoes sank into the sand with every step, but I was able to match him stride for stride without a problem. He was only running a nine-minute mile. I usually averaged seven minutes per mile when I went to the gym.

I didn’t say anything about it, and I was soon glad that I remained silent. After three miles running up the beach, Pierce turned onto a path that led up into the jungle. The trail was well-worn, but the heat was oppressive here. Five miles ticked by, then six. By mile eight, my heart rate was much higher than I was used to. I rarely ran more than three miles at a time. Even though the jungle foliage blocked the sun, it seemed to hold all the heat and humidity like an oven. That wasn’t even mentioning the steady incline as we moved inland, up and away from the beach.

Yet Pierce kept a steady pace as if he didn’t feel the heat nor the incline.

I was too stubborn to tell him I needed a break. I was a collegiate athlete, and Pierce was a spoiled billionaire. It infuriated me that he was better than me at this. I latched onto that frustration, using it as fuel to keep me going long after I wanted to fall to my knees and rest.

The trail looped back down to the beach, then back to the mansion. By the time he stopped his watch at the dock stairs, I was close to passing out. But he looked fresh.

“The heat… is rough…” I managed to gasp out.

Pierce opened a cooler that was sitting by the dock and tossed me a cold Gatorade. “Sure is. Good thing I took you on the short loop.”

“Short loop?”

Blue Gatorade trickled down the side of his mouth as he chugged the electrolytes down. “I usually do fifteen. But you looked like you might die if I tried.”

“I would have been fine!” I said after a long pull from my own drink.

Pierce pointed at me. “And you seem too stubborn to admit you couldn’t make it. Better to turn back before that. Your odds of conceiving a child are a lot less if you’re dead.”

“Thanks for your concern,” I said, but I was laughing. “I haven’t run more than three or four miles at a time since college.”

He arched an eyebrow. “And you still kept up for ten? I’m impressed.”

“Your child will be stubborn and have good cardio.”

Pierce roared with laughter, put an arm around me, and led me back up to the mansion.

I chatted with my mom on the phone every day, even if it was just for a few minutes. I didn’t tell her the whole truth about what I was doing. I wasn’t sure if I would ever tell her, or anyone else for that matter. But she still asked plenty of questions.

“I told you, it’s someone wealthy,” I explained to her one evening. “The name isn’t important.”

“I just don’t see why you refuse to tell me the name of the couple,” she insisted.

“Because I signed an NDA.” I didn’t elaborate. Although I had signed an NDA, it mostly covered the natural conception, and the amount I was being compensated. I was technically allowed to tell my mom that I was the surrogate for billionaire Pierce Benning.

But I certainly didn’t want to.

“An NDA? I’m your mother, not a tabloid,” she replied in annoyance. “You tell me everything, Mel. At least, you used to.”

“I’ll tell you all about it when this is over. I called because I want you to know I’m safe, and having a good time. We’re staying at a fancy place down in Costa Rica. They want to keep an eye on me, and make sure I’m comfortable throughout the whole process. It’s basically a vacation.”

It wasn’t completely a lie, even if it was only half the truth. Still, I felt guilty. I wasn’t used to keeping secrets from my mom.

That night after dinner, Pierce and I retired to his bedroom. It was a massive room with high ceilings, its own living room area with a television, and a bathroom that was large enough to fit an entire football team—with enough room left in the shower to fit a full cheerleader squad. Pierce took his time with me, burying his face between my legs and eating me out for what felt like hours. Only after I had come twice did he roll me over, covering me with his body from behind, and passionately fucking me in the prone position. The angle was intense, but he had warmed me up long enough that the way his cock ground against my G-spot felt perfect.

It must have felt amazing for him too, because he was wrapping his arms around me and gasping in my ear within minutes. I shuddered with a smaller orgasm as he came inside me.

I’ll never get used to that, I thought as he held me tightly. It’s amazing every time.

After cleaning up, I donned one of his way-too-soft robes while he retrieved two glasses of wine. I snuggled up next to him in bed and asked, “Have you thought about names? For the potential baby I might be growing.”

“It’s weird when you phrase it as growing,” Pierce said. “Like it’s a plant in the garden.”

“Dodging the question. Interesting.” I sat up a little straighter and sipped my wine. “You’re not planning on doing that incredibly arrogant thing men do, are you?”

“What is that?”

“Naming the baby after yourself.”

He gave me a funny smile. “Why is that arrogant?”

“Because it is!” I insisted. “Men see a perfect bundle of joy and have to put their own name on it. You’ll never see a baby named Melinda Junior.”

“You know what? Just for that, I am naming her Melinda Junior,” Pierce said happily. “If it’s a girl.”

“Absolutely not!”

“You have no say in the matter,” he pointed out. “I can name him or her whatever dumb thing my heart desires.”

“You have good taste. You would never do that.”

He narrowed his green eyes at me. “Deflecting with a compliment. You’re cunning.”

“I still can’t help but notice you’ve avoided the question.”

Pierce sighed, swirled his wine around, and said, “I haven’t settled on any names yet. But I will tell you, without any joking, that I won’t name a boy Pierce Junior.”

“Whew. Can I ask you something else?”

“Only if it doesn’t involve baby names.”

“The other day, when you met with Rodrigo Robles, I told you about the loophole in the contract. And you said it was by design. What did you mean by that?”

He smirked. “I was wondering when you would bring that up again. Are you sure you want to know?”

“Well now I definitely do.”

Pierce stared off at the wall for a few seconds. “Three years ago, I dated a woman named Victoria.”

“Victoria Ashford,” I interjected. “The supermodel.” A small pang of jealousy blossomed inside of me. I wasn’t sure what this had to do with the loophole in his contract, but I waited for him to go on.

He nodded. “Early on, we both knew that we wanted children, so we began trying. We weren’t in a hurry. We figured it would happen when it was meant to happen. Except after two years, that moment never came. She never got pregnant, despite our best efforts. Eventually we broke up for unrelated reasons, but it bothered me that it didn’t happen. I’m afraid…” He shrugged. “I wonder if I’m infertile.”

“Have you gotten tested?” I asked gently.

“Honestly, I’m afraid to,” he admitted. “I’m scared of the answer. I’d rather not know for sure.”

I signed a contract to be his surrogate, and he might not be able to have kids? The information was overwhelming, but Pierce had shown a lot of vulnerability, so I squeezed his hand. “Maybe the problem was Victoria? Not you?”

Pierce smiled wryly. “She got married recently. They’re already pregnant. So if there was an issue…”

Normally, I would react to a situation like this logically. Calmly discussing it like an intellectual topic. But I felt an overpowering need to comfort Pierce, so I said, “There could be plenty of other explanations. Maybe it took a while once she went off birth control. I’ve heard of that being the case sometimes. Or maybe she secretly stayed on the pill and only told you she wanted kids.”

“I’ve considered that. I don’t think it’s likely. I’m fairly certain she was honest with me. Not one hundred percent positive, but certain enough.”

“Ah.”

Pierce turned to me. “I want a child, Melinda. It’s the one thing missing in my life. If it’s not mine genetically… that’s okay. I don’t have to know, and neither does the child. Being a father is so much more than genetics. When the child is here, and I’m watching them grow older and learn to talk and take their first steps, I won’t care about blood. If I have to lie to myself… well, that’s a sacrifice I’m prepared to make.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “All of that makes sense. But what I don’t understand is why you intentionally put that loophole in the contract. Did you expect me to sleep with, like, the chef or something?”

“Alejandro?” Pierce smiled. “He’s seventy-five, has nine children, and twenty-two grandchildren. Some great-grandchildren too, I think. Not saying you can’t sleep with him, but…”

“Okay, maybe not the chef. But you know the point I’m trying to make,” I insisted. “What was your plan? Were you going to get me drunk and let a bunch of servants have their way with me?”

Pierce put the wine glass down and twisted to face me in bed. “God no, Melinda. Nothing like that. From the start, I’ve wanted you to be comfortable with every aspect of this contract, right?”

“Right.”

“That’s the truth. I’m not trying to trick you into anything. There isn’t some sinister plan. I just figured that if it turned out I cannot father a child, we could discuss other options. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was hoping we wouldn’t need to discuss this for several months.”

I decided he was telling the truth. He had been totally honest with me up to this point; there wasn’t a reason to believe otherwise. “Okay. Sorry if I got defensive.”

“I can understand your surprise, and alarm,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Really, the bottom line is I want a child. And I want you to be the biological mother. That’s why I chose you from the surrogacy agency. Hopefully I’m the biological father, but it’s not the end of the world if that isn’t the case.”

“So if I slept with, say, Andrew—you’d be fine with that?”

He shrugged. “If it resulted in a pregnancy and a healthy baby? Sure. Andrew’s a smart guy.”

That was not the answer I expected. “You wouldn’t get jealous?”

“I don’t get jealous.”

I snorted. “Every man I’ve ever known gets jealous.”

Pierce smiled confidently. “I’m not like any man you’ve ever known.”

The cocky way he delivered the line should have annoyed me. From any other man, it would have. But now that I had gotten to know Pierce Benning, I knew it was the simple truth. He wasn’t like any man I’d ever known, for a few hundred reasons. If he claimed he didn’t get jealous, then that was the truth.

Even if it was insane.

“I still don’t understand,” I said slowly. “You were so focused on a natural conception, building an entire contract around it… but now you’re claiming you wouldn’t mind if it’s not biologically yours?”

He retrieved his wine glass and stared into its depths. “I know it seems paradoxical,” he admitted. “But it’s the way I feel. I want it to be a natural conception, even if it ends up not being my genetics. The child wouldn’t know. He or she would think I was their father, and I would raise them as such. That’s all I want.”

“Sorry to push the issue,” I said. “But you seriously would be okay if I slept with other men? Andrew, or Tristan, or Alejandro the chef?”

Pierce grinned. “Andrew and Tristan are two of the best men I know. If you aren’t impregnated by my seed, then I would be lucky for it to be one of them.”

We finished our wine and turned out the lights, and I cuddled up to Pierce’s warm body. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation. Especially the way he talked about Andrew and Tristan. I had brought them up as a hypothetical, but Pierce’s reaction didn’t seem to treat it like that.

If anything, it seemed like he intended it to be one of them.

19

Melinda

I slept poorly that night. My body was tense, likely from the long run earlier that day. I kept waking up with aches in my hamstrings, and no amount of stretching and repositioning would help.

And when I finally did fall asleep, I had extremely vivid dreams.

Sexy dreams.

I was out on the terrace, leaning on the railing to enjoy the view while sipping on red wine. A man came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. The familiar way in which he did it made me think it was Pierce.

But there was something different about his kisses on the back of my neck. When I turned, it wasn’t Pierce at all.

It was Andrew.

Rather than my surprise twisting into shock, it melted into a relaxing sense of excitement. There was a familiarity in the way our lips lightly kissed, and the way his hand reached around to grab my ass, pulling it closer. This wasn’t the first time Andrew and I had done this.

In that magical way that happened in dreams, suddenly the two of us were nude and sitting on one of the pool chairs. I was straddling Andrew, grinding my pussy down against his stiff cock while his lips caressed over my nipples. I desperately wanted him inside of me, but I could tell the way I teased him, dragging my wet lips up and down the underside of his hard shaft, was driving him crazy. Every second that passed where we merely touched, rather than joining, made me desperate for him. I wanted to feel him inside me, to have him covering me and taking me the way a man should.

I blinked, and the positions were reversed: I was on my back with Andrew on top, just like I had wished. He sank into me, filling me in one long, perfect motion. We gasped together, sharing a breath, smiling into each other’s eyes as we savored that wonderful sexual friction.

As we made love in the open air, servants went about their tasks. Picking up the plates from a finished meal, and delivering more wine and trays of dessert pastries. None of this was awkward or unusual; it all seemed perfectly normal as Andrew drove his cock into me with slow, sensual motions.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” he breathed into my chest.

It took me a while to realize we weren’t alone. It wasn’t the servants; there was another man sitting on the pool chair to my left, watching intently. As always, Tristan was wearing a three-piece suit, and had that wry smile on his face that so perfectly encapsulated his English demeanor.

“Well done,” he said while sipping on a gin and tonic. “I think she quite likes the way you’re ravishing her.”

All of this felt perfectly normal, so I bit my lip and nodded. “I like it a lot.”

Keeping his blue-gray eyes locked onto me, Tristan told Andrew, “I think she’d like it even more if you took her from behind.”

Yes, I thought. I want that so badly.

Andrew rumbled a laugh, then twisted me around until I was on my knees, facing Tristan. I let out a grunt of a moan as he filled me from behind, his palm caressing up my spine until he was gripping one of my shoulders for support.

“Give it to her harder,” Tristan instructed in that prim, proper accent.

“Can do.” Andrew began slamming into me, rougher and faster. Every stroke sent lightning bolts of pleasure up my body, down my legs and into my curling toes. All the while, Tristan sipped his drink and focused on me. There was a hungry look in his eyes, a look which commanded my attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as Andrew pounded me, harder and harder.

“Do you just want to watch?” Andrew gritted out behind me. “Or would you like to join in?”

Tristan cocked his head in a way that reminded me of James Bond deciding how he was going to proceed. “I think that depends on what our dear Melinda desires.”

“I think she wants you to join us.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow at me. “Is this true? Do you wish for my vigorous participation?”

The words came from my heart rather than my brain, spoken before he had finished asking the question: “Yes.”

Tristan smiled, finished his drink, then stood. As Andrew continued ravishing me from behind, Tristan slowly began undressing like he had all the time in the world. First he removed his jacket, carefully folding it and placing it on the back of the pool chair. His cufflinks came next, the silver clinking on the glass table as he put them down. Then the vest was unbuttoned and peeled away, followed by the buttons of his dress shirt. His chest was smooth and hairless, lean with muscle rather than strong like Pierce. Now that he was down to just his dress pants, he approached me slowly.

In the dream I wasn’t afraid to be forward with what I wanted; I hooked my fingers behind his belt and pulled him closer. I had his zipper down in the blink of an eye, and then his cock was threading through the hole. Not wasting any time to admire it, I wrapped my lips around the tip and took as much of him into my mouth as I could.

The noise Tristan made deep in his throat was music to my ears.

“Fuck me, that’s hot,” Andrew groaned behind me. He was pumping faster, holding my hips with both hands for leverage.

“You feel quite good,” Tristan rumbled down at me. “I’ve been waiting for this since the moment you arrived on the Bellerophon.”

His pleasure turned me on even more, and I moaned around his thick length as I sucked him off. Every one of Andrew’s thrusts pushed me forward, and I allowed that rhythm to guide me forward onto Tristan’s cock, then back onto Andrew’s. I bounced between them, my own ecstasy building to unbelievable levels. My orgasm was right there, just over the next hill, drawing closer…

“I’m not lasting long,” Tristan said, voice tight with tension. “Just like that, yes…”

“No coming in her mouth,” Andrew managed to say. “You have to give her your seed.”

Tristan was breathing heavily now. “I know, I just… a little more…”

“Oh my God,” Andrew was groaning. “I’m… I’m…”

*

I woke with a jolt. Pierce was lying on his back next to me in bed, one muscular arm positioned behind his head as he slept, his bicep lit by the faint moonlight streaming through the window. I glanced at the clock—Pierce’s alarm would go off soon.

The dream was so real. I could still feel both of them, and the desperate lust I felt at being double-teamed by them.

There was an unbearable ache between my legs, a fire that needed to be quenched immediately. Sliding back under the covers, I found Pierce’s boxers and pulled them down. He was already mostly hard. Gripping his cock tightly in my fingers, I began sucking him off. He was fully stiff almost instantly.

I focused on the blowjob as Pierce sighed in his sleep. His eyes were closed, but I could see them fluttering behind his eyelids. I stroked him faster, swirling my tongue around his crown at the same time and rubbing my clit with my free hand.

His groans grew louder, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. His hips were twitching in little thrusts; I could tell he was close. I needed him desperately, needed to feel his seed explode inside of me. Just when he was nearly there, I climbed up onto his body and impaled myself on his hard length.

Pierce’s eyes shot open as I rode him, bucking on top of him so roughly that the bed shook. His surprise quickly became ecstasy, one hand cupping my breast and pinching a nipple. That drove me over the edge, and I threw my head back and let out an exhale of a scream as I came. Pierce clenched his teeth as he came with me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling me down to his hungry lips, kissing me as he filled me.

“What brought that on?” he asked as I slumped down on his chest.

“I had a very sexy dream,” I said. Now that it was over, I was somewhat confused about my feelings.

“Did you? Was I as good in the dream as in real life?”

I hesitated. My first impulse was to lie to him. It felt wrong to have a sexy dream about someone else—two someones—while sleeping with another man. But up to this point, Pierce had been brutally honest with me. I still remembered the vulnerability it took to reveal what he had to me last night, admitting that he would be fine if another man were the one to impregnate me.

And deep down, I was still skeptical of that admission.

With all of that in mind, I gave him a long kiss and said: “Actually, you weren’t in the dream.”

Pierce blinked at me, then laughed. “Oh.”

I winced instinctively. “I’m sorry. Should I have not told you that?”

“I ask one thing of everyone in my life,” Pierce said. “Complete honesty. I’m glad you told me. It certainly doesn’t bother me. Who was in the dream? Alejandro?” He glanced at the clock. “He should be awake, baking the morning rolls.”

“Not Alejandro,” I said. “Andrew.”

To my immense shock, Pierce grinned. “Well then. That’s a surprise, but nothing you should feel guilty—”

“And Tristan,” I blurted out.

Pierce burst out laughing, the vibrations traveling up his hard length and into me. I playfully smacked his arm. “I can’t help what I dream!”

“You cannot,” he agreed.

“You’re the one who put the idea in my head!”

“I did,” he admitted, still chuckling. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“Well?” I demanded. “Are you jealous that I had a sex dream about your valet and personal assistant?”

“I told you: I don’t get jealous. I think it’s hot, actually.”

I knew he had told me this much last night, but I couldn’t help but feel surprised that he actually meant it.

“How do you feel about it?” Pierce asked gently.

“First of all, you can’t tell them,” I said. “Promise me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Anything you tell me in here is for my ears only, unless you say otherwise.”

I nodded and examined my own emotions. “I’ve had random sex dreams about people in my life, of course.”

“We all do.”

“But I always felt guilty about them. That’s my main instinct here: to feel guilty about it, since I’m currently sleeping with you. But since you claim you’re not jealous…”

“A claim which is true.”

“…then I guess I liked it.” I shook my head. “No, there’s no ambiguity about it. The dream was hot. Do you want details?”

“Maybe later tonight, before bed. When we’re getting in the mood.” He kissed me again. “I enjoyed being woken up that way. Much better than my alarm.”

As if on cue, his phone alarm buzzed on the side table. The two of us giggled, and he threw me to the side and kissed me again before we began our day.

20

Melinda

Breakfast was awkward—for me, at least. I blushed when Tristan joined us at the breakfast table out on the terrace, and was grateful that he was too busy focusing on his tablet to notice. Pierce certainly saw, and gave me a knowing grin. That only made me blush more.

“Oh, Eggs Benedict,” Andrew said when he sat down at the table. He gestured at my plate. “Do you like them?”

“I think it’s quite clear she does,” Tristan muttered.

“I was asking her.”

The conversation was eerily similar to their banter during my dream. “It’s good,” I said simply, hunching over my plate in the hope that it would conceal my rapidly reddening cheeks.

“I’ll have the same,” Andrew said when the servant came by to take his order.

After breakfast, I went inside to take a shower. I intended to sit by the pool with a book until lunch, but Tristan and Andrew were both sitting out there—and on the same chairs that had been the setting for my steamy dream. The sight brought back images from the dream far too vividly, so I went inside to the parlor and stretched out on the couch there.

Pierce found me not too long after that. He closed the door and locked it, then prowled toward me like a jungle cat. “Hello there.”

I put down my book. “Hi.”

He pounced on me, quickly pulling off his T-shirt and slipping out of his swim trunks. Once my own clothes were tossed to the floor, he pulled my ass to the edge of the couch and then rubbed his tip all around my sopping entrance.

“Oh, I hate it when you tease me,” I breathed.

“We’ve only been sleeping together a few days. I’ve only teased you once, maybe.”

“Once is too much.” I wrapped my legs around his waist and tried to pull him into me, but he resisted.

“I want to hear about this dream.”

I bit my lip. “Really?”

He rocked his head in a slow nod. “Mmm hmm. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

“It turns you on that much?”

“You have no idea,” he replied.

I bit my lip and called up the memory of the dream. “We were out on the terrace, by the pool. Andrew was… fucking me from behind.”

Pierce sighed and slid his crown an inch into my lips. “Then what happened?”

“Tristan was watching from a few feet away. Andrew asked if he wanted to join. So Tristan asked me.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him yes,” I moaned. The head of Pierce’s dick felt wonderful, but I wanted more. “Then he slowly removed his suit, came over to me, and I gave him a blowjob.”

Pierce slid a little deeper into me while holding my legs wide. “Did he like that?”

“Oh yes,” I crooned. “He loved it. He almost came immediately.”

“And you liked it?”

“I did,” I admitted, which was the honest truth.

“Tell me.”

“I loved being on my knees between them,” I described, “taking their cocks from both ends. Thinking about both of them coming inside me. When I woke up, I was burning with lust. I had to have you.”

Finally, Pierce buried all of himself in me, pulling long moans from both of our lips. He bent low and kissed me, his body moving faster and faster. Within seconds he was gasping and groaning into my mouth, squeezing me tightly while he came.

As we panted, I said, “I’m surprised that turns you on so much.”

He shrugged as he got dressed. “I can’t help what arouses me. I’m just glad it doesn’t weird you out.”

I stood and hugged him from behind. “I like your policy of honesty. It cuts through all the bullshit.” I thought about the Bobs, and their falseness and lies.

“Me too.” He twisted and kissed me. “Better eat a good lunch. I’m taking you on another long run this afternoon.”

I loved running because it gave me time to think, alone with my mind without any distractions. Today was no exception. I thought about the dream, and Pierce’s reaction to it.

Describing the dream to him was strangely liberating. There was so much that we, as humans, kept hidden from each other. Especially in new relationships. We had one side of ourselves that we allowed others to see, and parts that we tried to conceal. I had always taken that for granted. It’s just the way things were.

It was freeing not to hold back. And to be with a man who didn’t hold back himself. That made me feel even closer to Pierce, rather than withdrawing from him once learning about his unorthodox thoughts on pregnancy and conception.

But how do I feel about Andrew and Tristan?

I liked Andrew. He was instantly likable from the moment he met me with the helicopter in Providence. And he was attractive, in a boyish sort of way. I was certainly attracted to him.

Tristan was another story. He was undeniably good-looking, even before factoring in that sultry English accent. But before last night’s dream, I hadn’t been attracted to him at all. I was turned off by his stuffy, proper attitude.

But now? I didn’t know how I felt.

Could someone’s attraction change on a dime like that? And if so, was that a bad thing? I couldn’t decide if that made me flexible in a good way, or if it made me a slave to my basest impulses.

It doesn’t matter, I told myself as we turned off the beach and began running inland. I’ll probably get pregnant by Pierce, despite his concerns about his own fertility.

“How does this trail even exist?” I asked as we jogged up an incline into the jungle. “This is your private island. Nobody else should be here.”

“Marcelo, the grounds keeper, maintains the trail,” Pierce replied. “He comes through with a machete once a week.”

“Marcelo? He sounds hot. I wonder how potent his sperm is.”

It was a prodding kind of joke. I winced as soon as the words were out of my mouth, because I didn’t know how he would react. It sounded harsher than I intended, especially if Pierce was self-conscious about his potential sperm count.

But he only laughed and said, “Marcelo is gay. He’s also married, so that’s two strikes against your chances with him. He’s good at his job though; he also looks for venomous snakes when he’s out here. Occasionally, eyelash vipers make it over from the mainland. Very deadly.

“Snakes don’t bother me, thankfully.” I glanced along the ground as we ran. “I’ve noticed the holes in the ground, but I haven’t seen any snakes.”

“Oh, those holes aren’t for snakes,” Pierce replied. He pointed at one in passing. “They’re tarantula holes.”

I let out a yelp. “There are tarantulas here?!?”

“Oh yeah. All over the place. There’s another hole. Two more there, next to that purple flower.”

“I think I want to go back to the beach now.”

The jungle seemed to muffle Pierce’s laugh. “Tarantulas are harmless.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re afraid of harmless tarantulas, but deadly vipers don’t bother you?”

“There’s no logic to my phobia!” I said.

Pierce laughed some more.

“You know, most billionaires wouldn’t spend their time running through the untamed jungle.”

“I told you,” he replied. “I’m not like most men you’ve ever known.”

“You don’t need to prove it every chance you get. Can we go back now?”

“Believe it or not, they’re more active down along the coast,” Pierce explained. “If you want to avoid them, you’re better off continuing into the jungle with me. But if you want to turn back, go right ahead.”

Groaning in a way that was definitely not pleasurable, I followed Pierce into the jungle.

Dinner that night was a succulent redfish with vegetables and wild rice. Like every night, it was the four of us: me, Pierce, Andrew, and Tristan. Once I got over my awkwardness—with the help of a few glasses of wine—I realized that I had been enjoying the routine nature of our meals. It reminded me of college, where I had a close group of friends that hung out in the dorm cafeteria most nights. Of course, our expensive meal on a private island overlooking a bay with a massive yacht had little else in common with those college nights, but the feeling was similar.

“You survived another long run with Pierce, I see?” Tristan commented.

“It was easier today,” I admitted. “I just needed to knock the rust off. Honestly, it feels good to get back into a routine. I used to run ten miles every morning in college. I’m almost sad to have to stop if—when—I get pregnant.”

“Plenty of women exercise during pregnancy,” Andrew said. “Typically, whatever you’re used to doing before getting pregnant is okay to do during the first two trimesters.”

“And even into the third,” Pierce added. “One of the executives at my battery manufacturer was jogging five miles a day right up until her water broke.”

“Lucy was a freak of nature,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “Very type-A. She hated sitting still.”

“We’ll see how much my body wants to run when I’m carrying a baby around in my belly,” I said with a chuckle. “But I’m sure there are plenty of health benefits.”

Andrew smirked at me. “Pierce isn’t running for the health benefits.”

“Indeed he is not,” Tristan muttered while pouring himself more wine.

I turned to Pierce. “Why else would you run so much if not for health?”

“I’ve been training,” Pierce explained. “For The Coastal Challenge.”

“What’s that?”

“Something pointless,” Tristan said.

“And painful,” Andrew added. “Pierce is a glutton for punishment.”

“I like challenging myself,” Pierce said defensively.

“So what is The Coastal Challenge? A race?”

“It’s a running race through Costa Rica,” Pierce said.

“Oh, fun!” I said. “I used to go out and watch the marathon in my college town every year and cheer on the runners. I’ll gladly cheer you on when you do this.”

Tristan and Andrew looked at each other and shook their heads.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s not that kind of race,” Pierce explained. “It’s—”

“The dumb kind,” Andrew said with a laugh.

Pierce glared at him, then went on. “It’s a six-day stage race across Costa Rica, twenty to thirty miles a day. The route takes us through the jungle, over mountains, and across uninhabited beaches on the Pacific side. There’s about thirty thousand feet of climbing over the course of the race.”

“He is omitting the best part,” Tristan said, gesturing with his wine and smirking. “They camp at night. In the middle of the jungle, without air conditioning or any other amenities.”

“They camp in tents,” Andrew said. “On the ground. Like we used to do in the Boy Scouts.”

Pierce rolled his eyes and sipped his wine.

“Let me get this straight,” I said slowly. “You basically run a marathon every day in sweltering heat and humidity. By the time you’re done, you’ve basically climbed a full Everest. And at the end of each day, you don’t even get to relax because you’re camping in a tent?”

“Correct,” Pierce said.

“That sounds awful!”

Tristan clinked his wine glass to Andrew’s beer. “Melinda is one of us. That is to say, a rational human. It is indeed quite terrible, as Pierce admits every time he returns from this Sisyphean jungle nightmare.”

I whipped my head toward Pierce. “Hold on. You’ve done this before?”

“Oh yeah. This will be my fifth time.”

I gasped. “You do this every year?”

Pierce laughed and shook his head. “Every other year. I definitely wouldn’t be able to do it every single year.”

“Right, because that would be insane.”

Tristan was showing more humor than I had ever seen, chuckling into his wine glass with one leg crossed over the other. “She is quite smart. The perfect woman to be the biological mother of your child.”

“It goes by fast,” Pierce said. “I’ll be back in two weeks.”

I gave a start. “When do you leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“When were you going to tell me this?” I asked.

“It’s on the calendar of events,” Pierce said with a frown. “I assumed you knew about it but didn’t want to bring it up.”

“What calendar?”

Tristan cleared his throat. “You were emailed a link to the digital calendar along with your introduction packet.”

“I, uh, never bothered to open that. And I might have deleted the email.” I took an embarrassed sip of wine.

Tristan stared levelly at me. “I take back what I said about your suitability as a surrogate.”

“Hey!” I said, offended.

“Perhaps I could send you another link,” Tristan said, turning to look out at the darkening horizon. “Perhaps.”

Andrew reached over and touched my hand. “I’ll forward it to you.” It was the smallest touch, innocent without any other context. But after my dream, the brief contact made the hairs on my arm stand on end. Andrew didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

“So you’ll be totally off the grid for two weeks?” I asked.

“Only for the six days during the race. And I might have cell signal at two of the campsites. We’ll see. There’s also tracking online, so you’ll know I’m alive.”

“Or, conversely, we’ll find out quickly if you do perish,” Tristan said.

“Aw, don’t talk like that,” Andrew said, tossing his napkin onto his finished plate.

Tristan winked at me and gestured with his wine glass. “I am simply pointing out the speed at which we will learn of our benefactor’s demise. Which, I must reiterate, will be prompt.”

I giggled at the joke. When Andrew glared at me, I said defensively, “I like dark humor.”

“Nobody has ever died in this race,” Pierce said. “At least, not that they’ve reported. So you probably don’t need to freshen up your CVs.” He paused for three long seconds. “Probably.”

“You’re not helping relieve my anxiety,” Andrew muttered.

“On an unrelated note, do I still get paid if you die before I’m knocked up?”

Andrew groaned, but the rest of us laughed into the night.

Later that night, Pierce and I were locked together in sweaty lovemaking. He had been going slowly, drawing it out for nearly half an hour. Finally, I rolled him sideways and straddled him, riding him until we both came together.

“That’s twice in the same day you’ve ridden me,” he said while we cuddled after.

“Now that I know you’re running in this big race in two days, I don’t want to sap all your energy. You need to conserve your strength.”

“I leave for San Jose in two days. The race doesn’t start until Sunday, with some travel days before and after. But I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” He gave my ass a loud smack. “And I love it when you’re on top.”

“I’m going to miss you,” I said without thinking.

Pierce caressed my back with his fingertips. “I’ll miss you too. But it’s only two weeks. Like I said, it’ll go fast.”

I wanted to tell him that it would go fast for him, since he was the one doing something active. I would be stuck here. I thought about those days aboard the Bellerophon, bored and anxious without anything to do.

But as I thought about it, I realized something: it wasn’t the boredom that worried me. I would legitimately miss Pierce. We had finally gotten into a nice rhythm together, and now he was running off—literally. There was a soft ache in my heart at the thought of being away from him. Even though I knew our relationship was purely physical, outlined via a binding contract, it felt like we were dating. It felt like he was my boyfriend.

Uh oh, I thought. I’m definitely catching feelings for this man.

And that worried me more than all the tarantulas in Costa Rica.

21

Andrew

I was a worrier. It was in my nature as a valet. I made sure everything lined up properly throughout Pierce’s day, and I anticipated all the small things that might derail it. Worrying helped me predict those distractions.

But right now, my worries were personal. And they involved Melinda Norris.

I’d liked her since the moment I met her in Providence, watching her pull up in her car and stare at Pierce’s helicopter like it was an alien. Hell, I had liked her ever since Tristan showed us her file from the surrogate agency. Getting to know her, first on the Bellerophon and then on the island, had only increased these feelings. Helping her. Watching her. Laughing with her. If she were a guy, I would have become best friends with her.

Since she was a woman, it was impossible for deeper feelings not to begin to sprout. Especially considering what the contract stated—or, more important, what it didn’t state.

There was a new kind of energy between us that evening on the terrace, when she learned about The Coastal Challenge. Something sexual. At first I thought it was all in my head. I liked her, and was projecting my own emotions onto this woman. But as the evening went on, I became more certain there was something there.

That scared me, but it excited me, too.

I was normally able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, but I slept horribly that night. It was the same thing the night after that. I tossed and turned and thought about how Melinda and I would be spending a lot of time together in the next two weeks.

Time together alone.

There was a cool morning breeze blowing in from the water as we stood on the helicopter pad to say our farewells.

“So how does this work?” Melinda asked Pierce. The breeze blew her blonde hair all around her head. With the sunlight streaming down, it made it look like a halo. “Do you make a grand entrance, arriving at the starting line by helicopter?”

“God, no,” Pierce said with a laugh. “The last thing I need is people knowing who I am.”

“He goes by the pseudonym Benny Peers,” Tristan said dryly.

“Wooow,” Melinda said. “So clever.”

“I save my cunning for my business ventures. And my women.” Pierce took Melinda in his arms and gave her a long kiss goodbye.

I turned away. Pierce was not a jealous man, but I still couldn’t help but feel a tingle in my stomach whenever the two of them kissed. Maybe it was jealousy, or maybe it was a strange sort of excitement. I glanced at Tristan and wondered if he felt something similar; if he did, he hid it behind a mask of boredom. But whatever the emotion was, I was intellectually happy that they were getting along. I was doubtful that it would all work out when she first signed the contract. She had seemed so stubborn at the time, incredulous at the entire offer.

Oh how things have changed in three short weeks.

As their kiss ended, and they hugged one last time, Melinda whispered something into Pierce’s ear. I was standing close enough to hear.

“You sure you aren’t afraid I’m going to bang Alejandro while you’re gone?”

I blinked in surprise. Alejandro, the cook? He was old enough to be my great-grandfather.

Pierce braced her by the arms and smiled warmly. “Not afraid at all. But if you do, be sure to record it. Watching is fun.”

Melinda seemed puzzled by this response, but her question made one thing clear: she seemed to know about the loophole in the contract. I glanced at Tristan, who was frowning slightly. He’d heard the whispers too, and had come to the same conclusion.

He glanced at me and shrugged ever so slightly.

How much did she really know?

Pierce boarded the helicopter, the rotors spun up, and then it climbed into the sky and over the mountains. Once the engine noise was gone, all we could hear was the gentle surf washing against the beach below.

“Okay,” Melinda said. “Now what are we supposed to do for two weeks?”

“You are free to do whatever your heart desires,” Tristan said, glancing at his watch. “I will be gone by seven o’clock tonight.”

“Gone? Where?” she asked.

He stared at her. “I sent you a new copy of the shared calendar.”

“Let’s pretend I ignored it again,” Melinda said, cringing.

Tristan glanced at me and sighed deeply. “I have pressing business in London. I will return in four days. Now if you will excuse me, I must pack for the trip.”

She watched him walk into the mansion, then turned to me. “What about you?”

“In the past when Pierce is running this race, I’ve gone home to see my family.”

We started walking back inside. “But not this year?”

The truth was that Pierce had asked me to stay and keep Melinda company. It was a totally innocent request. He wanted someone around to make her feel like she wasn’t alone. The other thing, something I was trying not to think about as a possibility, was just a fringe benefit. If it happened at all.

“The timing didn’t work out with my family this year,” I lied. But the next part was true: “To be honest, I’m glad it didn’t. I’m not really close with my parents and brothers, but I feel obligated to visit out of guilt.”

“That sucks,” she said. “Since Pierce is gone for two weeks, do I have to stay here? Would I be allowed to go home and visit my family?”

“You’re not a prisoner,” I reminded her. “You can do whatever you want. I can arrange a flight back to Rhode Island if you want.”

“I’ll think about it. I’m very close with my parents, especially my mom. I’ve been calling her on the phone almost every day to reassure her that I haven’t been kidnapped.”

I smiled at that. “Have you told her all of the details?”

“Hell no!” she said with a laugh. She brushed her hair out of her face. “She wouldn’t believe me if I told her. And even if she did, she would assume I had joined some weird sex cult. We’d have the FBI swarming all over this island. Or the US Army. I don’t know whose jurisdiction this would fall under. The point is, she’s a stubborn woman.”

“I never would have guessed that,” I said.

She shot a glare at me. “Are you implying that I’m stubborn?”

“I plead the fifth,” I replied.

We reached the pool area. I picked up my coffee mug where I had left it and took a sip. Melinda walked over to the pool and dragged her toes across the surface of the water. She was wearing a floral-printed coverup skirt that hugged her lower half in a way that made my cock ache. Looking at her thighs and ass, it was obvious she was a college athlete.

To say something, anything, I blurted out, “Going for a swim?”

She shrugged. “I was planning on going for a jog. I’m glad I got back into it. Want to come with me?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve seen you running in the gym. Ditch the dreadmill and try jogging on the beach.”

“I don’t like running in the humidity.”

“Nobody does!” she said with a big, cheerful grin. “That’s the point. You’ll get a good sweat and get some endorphins flowing. It’ll help you sleep better.”

I gave a start. “How’d you know I’ve been sleeping poorly?”

“I didn’t.” She pointed. “But that’s your third cup of coffee when usually you only have a single cup before switching to tea. So I’m assuming.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a stalker,” I teased.

She skipped toward me. “I feel like I know every one of your little daily routines. Come for a run with me. Then you can have a yogurt with exactly one ounce of honey added on top, and a protein bar.”

“Am I really that predictable?” I asked.

She tapped me on the chest with a finger. “You sure are. Come on. We’ll stay on the beach, away from the tarantulas.”

I watched her beautiful form sashay back inside to change.

Two weeks, I thought. If she decides to stay. I think I can survive that.

But as I followed her inside, inhaling deeply from her flowery scent, I knew I had no idea how things would go.

22

Melinda

As soon as Pierce was gone, it felt like there was a hole in my stomach. I had grown fond of him, especially in the past week where our relationship had really accelerated in the bedroom. It was now overwhelmingly clear that despite my best efforts, I was catching feelings for him. I spent much of that day wondering if he felt the same, or if I truly was just a surrogate to him.

But it was easier since I wasn’t alone. Andrew was here with me. We had one thing in common: without Pierce here, we weren’t quite sure what to do with ourselves. Our presence on this island was due solely to Pierce Benning’s whim, and with him gone, we felt rudderless.

At least we could be rudderless together.

Now that a few days had passed since the sex dream, I was totally comfortable around Andrew. I could be myself. I invited him on a jog—bullied him into it, really. He met me down by the dock wearing Hokas, running shorts, and a Dri-fit tank top.

“Ready?” I asked him.

“Probably not. But I’m here anyway.”

I flashed him a smile and started my watch. “I’ll go slow for you.”

Slow for me meant the nine-minute mile pace that I had been keeping with Pierce. A few minutes into our jog, it quickly became clear that Andrew couldn’t keep up with that.

“Is the heat getting to you?” I asked, twisting to look back at him.

His eyes flicked up to my face. “The heat. And the humidity.”

He was definitely staring at my ass. I felt a weird mix of flattery, awkwardness, and excitement. But I wasn’t surprised. Out of five or six running outfits that had been brought here from my apartment, I was wearing a pair of skin-tight booty shorts. The ones I wore when I ran with my running club and wanted to look my best.

“You’ll get used to it,” I said, slowing down. “Here. I’ll dial back the pace a little.”

Andrew was drenched in sweat, but he was able to keep up with me from that point on. We jogged two miles up the beach, then turned around and jogged back. When we reached the dock, he practically collapsed onto the wood steps.

“That sucked,” he said, pulling a Gatorade from the cooler. “But I’m glad you forced me into it. Running on the beach is hard, but it’s still better than a treadmill.”

“See? That’s why I call it the dreadmill. A mile on that feels like five miles on the beach. Also, I didn’t force you to do anything.”

He grimaced at me. “Sure you didn’t.”

I climbed the steps, and he followed. Without looking back, I could feel his eyes on my rear end. That was the reaction I expected since I had chosen my outfit accordingly, but it made me wonder. Did he know about the contract situation? He had been a perfect gentleman this entire time, friendly without giving any hints or crossing any lines.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Pierce’s contract loophole and his opinion on the biological father of his child. I certainly didn’t know if I wanted to sleep with someone else who worked for Pierce. But I was curious. I had never been in a situation like this before.

Hardly anyone has been in this situation before, I reminded myself. Nothing about this is normal. But that’s part of what intrigued me so much.

Pierce’s comment from the helicopter pad came back to me: If you do, be sure to record it.

I’d certainly never done that before. A sex tape. Just thinking about it filled me with a complex swirl of emotions. But chief among them was excitement. The intoxicating idea of doing something naughty. There was also a healthy amount of anxiety. I was afraid I would look bad on video. At the very least, it might be unflattering. Nobody ever looked as sexy as they felt. Heck, I already scrutinized every photo I posted on social media. It would be a thousand times worse with a sex video, even if the audience was just one man.

I shook off the idea. I was getting way ahead of myself. Pierce’s suggestion was still crazy, and I wasn’t even sure if I would stay here for the next two weeks.

But as I weighed my options for the next day, I realized I was enjoying being on the island. I opened my laptop and began brainstorming business plans for when all of this was over and I had money in my account. I had tried doing that on the Bellerophon, but I was distracted by the whirlwind of a man that was Pierce Benning. Now that he was gone, I was able to focus.

And there was one thing that held my focus above all else: getting even with the Bobs. Building a new marketing company from scratch and putting them out of business. Anything less than that would be a failure.

Then there was Andrew himself.

Unlike my relationship with Pierce, there wasn’t a contract looming over our friendship with sexual expectations. Everything felt so much more natural with Andrew. We hung out at the pool during the day, and went on jogs on the beach. Rather than sitting down to a formal dinner each night, we took our food into the parlor and watched TV while eating with our plates in our laps.

We both had a love of Mystery Science Theater 3000, the show where dubbed over voices made fun of bad movies. Pierce’s media library included all the old episodes, and we laughed together late into the night

“I’ve noticed you reading by the pool sometimes,” Andrew said one evening while we were watching the Creature From the Black Lagoon episode. “Got any good recommendations? I’m between books right now.”

“I don’t know if you’d like what I typically read,” I replied.

“I’m always open to new things. Try me.”

“I like fantasy romance,” I told him. “The cheesier, the better.”

Laughing, Andrew said, “Nothing wrong with that, although I haven’t read any myself.”

“What’s your normal genre?”

“Thrillers. Usually military themed, but sometimes sci-fi.”

“Tell you what,” I said, pausing the TV and turning on the couch to face Andrew. “I’ll read your favorite book if you read mine. Then we’ll regroup to discuss.”

“I’d be open to that,” he said. “I hope your favorite book is something good.”

“A Court of Thorns and Roses,” I said. “By Sarah J. Maas.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Andrew said, frowning with thought. “Aren’t they adapting it into a TV show?”

“Yep! On Hulu. It’s been in development hell though, so nobody knows when it’ll come out. What book do you have for me?”

Andrew folded one knee up close to his chin; he’d taken to wearing comfortable sweatpants while Pierce was gone. “Okay, so my favorite author is Tom Clancy. His early stuff is really good, but he got increasingly self-indulgent with his later novels.”

“One of his earlier novels, then,” I said.

Andrew looked legitimately excited now. “There are three options, all of which are great. His best written novels are probably Hunt for Red October or Clear and Present Danger.”

“I didn’t ask for the best written,” I clarified. “I asked for your favorite book.”

He grinned widely. “I’m glad you made that distinction, because my favorite book of his is Red Storm Rising. It’s the second book he published.”

“It’s not a depressing book about nuclear war, is it?”

“Actually no!” he replied cheerfully. “It involves a third world war, but it’s fought exclusively with conventional weapons, rather than nuclear bombs.”

“So regular blown-up bodies, not radioactive bodies,” I said dryly. “Much better.”

“Trust me, you won’t be able to put this book down. It’s my comfort novel. I re-read it every year or two.”

“Okay, I’m in,” I said. “I’m glad you chose that, because I’ve seen the Hunt for Red October movie, and I didn’t think it was great.”

Andrew looked like a kicked puppy. “Aw, really? I love the movie.”

“Sean Connery is a Soviet submarine dude, but he doesn’t even try to use a Russian accent!”

“Yeah! That’s what makes it so good!” Andrew insisted.

“Regardless, I’ll happily read Red Storm Rising if you read A Court of Thorns and Roses. Deal?”

“Deal.” We shook on it. His hand was warm, the fingers lingering in mine for a heartbeat longer than a regular handshake. His smile was also warm, and completely disarming. It was rare that I felt so comfortable around someone, let alone a guy.

I unpaused the show, but kept glancing at Andrew out of the corner of my eye.

23

Melinda

I was drinking an afternoon tea on the terrace when Andrew came running out and said, “Pierce finished the first day!”

He hurried over to me with his laptop in hand. It was open to The Coastal Challenge results page. We hunched over it, squinting at the screen. Out of about a hundred participants, Pierce was the ninth finisher.

“Six hours and forty-nine minutes,” I read off. “Almost thirty miles running.”

“And forty-two hundred feet of elevation gain,” Andrew muttered. “That’s a lot, right?”

“Over that distance? Yes. It’s a buttload.”

“Supposedly, this is the easiest day.” Andrew shook his head in disbelief. “He’s insane.”

“Completely agree.” I glanced at my phone on the chair next to me. “Do you think he has signal?”

“He has signal tonight, and on night five,” Andrew replied. “If you wanted to text him, he should get it.”

I popped up from my chair. “I think I’ll go do that.”

Andrew didn’t ask why I was going inside to text Pierce, for which I was glad. I went into my bedroom, closed the door, and settled into bed with my phone.

Me: How was the first day? Still alive, it appears?

Pierce: Unfortunately. Right now, I WISH a snake would put me out of my misery.

Me: That bad, huh? I saw the results. Thirty miles is no joke, especially considering how hot it was today!

Pierce: It’s even hotter here. Our campsite is inland, where the humidity is terrible. There’s no breeze. Everything is sweltering.

Me: Just remember the best part: you CHOSE to do this! For fun!

Pierce: Let this be a lesson: even billionaires can be complete idiots sometimes.

Me: Only sometimes? ;-)

Pierce: I’m too exhausted to dignify that with a response.

Me: Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

Pierce: Tease me again and I’ll send you a photo of my feet.

Me: Yeah, uh, I’m not into feet stuff. Sorry.

Pierce: Me neither. That was a threat. My feet currently look like they’ve been the victim of a war crime. Several blisters, and two toenails that are already turning purple.

Me: UNSUBSCRIBE

Me: And here I was thinking of ways to cheer you up.

Pierce: I don’t think there’s anything that could put a smile on my face right now.

Me: Challenge accepted.

I quickly stripped down to my bra and panties and snapped a few photos in different poses. The best one, I decided, was with my shoulders hunched forward and my breasts squeezed together. Telling myself that I wasn’t going to be paralyzed with indecision, I sent it to Pierce.

Pierce: Well, I stand corrected. I’m smiling now.

Me: I thought you might like that ;-)

Pierce: Now I feel bad for threatening you with feet photos.

Me: You get a pass. This time.

Pierce: Feel free to keep sending things that will put a smile on my face. I’ll be off the grid for the next three days, but it’ll be nice knowing they’re waiting when I get to the next camp with cell signal.

Me: I’ll do it, but you’re going to need to double the amount of money in the contract.

Pierce: WOW. Seriously?

Me: Good point. I shouldn’t do that.

Me: Let’s triple the amount instead.

Pierce: You’re devious. And evil.

Me: You knew exactly who I was when you picked me to be your surrogate :-)

Pierce: I sure did. And you’re proving that it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Me: Hey now. Hold your approval until I’m bearing your heir.

Pierce: I have a good feeling about it.

Pierce: I’ve got to go. A slot in the medical tent just opened up. I need them to work on my feet if I’m going to run 32 miles tomorrow.

Me: Gross. Have fun with that.

I started to say that I missed him, but stopped myself. It felt weird putting it into a text, and I didn’t feel like it needed to be said. Besides, he had enough to think about without throwing some emotional complexities into the mix.

That evening, Pierce’s good feeling turned out to be incorrect. My cramps started just before dinner, and my period began in earnest soon after. Ironic considering I was reading Red Storm Rising when it happened. I told Andrew that I wasn’t feeling great, and I curled up in bed with my book.

I’d always had relatively light periods that only lasted two or three days, but that’s not what bothered me. I was surprised at how disappointed I felt. It was silly; the odds of me getting pregnant this quickly were low. Yet deep down, I had kind of hoped that it would happen on the first try.

My period is making me extra emotional, I told myself as I snuggled with one of the large, fluffy pillows. That, and I miss Pierce. I wish I had known he would be gone for two weeks.

As I tried to fall asleep, I thought about the possibility that Pierce’s fear was correct: that he was infertile. It made me feel bad for him. That must be awful, wanting children but being unable to father them. Especially in this middle situation where he didn’t know if he could have kids, and didn’t want to find out. Sometimes it was better not to know for sure… but it was awful in its own special way.

With all of that in mind, I could sort of see why Pierce didn’t care who impregnated me. It still seemed totally bonkers, but I could at least understand where he was coming from.

My period was fading three days later when the helicopter left the mansion. I was sitting on the terrace with my laptop when it returned two hours later. Tristan hopped out and strode toward the residence, wheeling his luggage behind him.

“Welcome back,” I said as he walked by the terrace.

“It is quite good to be back,” he said, stopping and sighing loudly. “As much as my countrymen and I romanticize the great world city of London, it never lives up to expectations. The requirement to visit my father and sisters whenever I am there certainly does not improve the situation. I was happy to leave.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. It’s on my list of cities to visit.”

He blinked at me. “You have never been to London?”

“Or England at all,” I admitted. “Well, aside from a layover in Heathrow on the way to Paris. Does that count?”

“It most certainly does not,” Tristan said with a healthy scowl. “I must apologize to you. I would have extended an invitation if I had known you had never been. I assumed you would have gone home to visit family during Pierce’s race.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t feel like seeing my family, so I decided to stay here.”

A thoughtful expression came over his handsome face. He looked like he wanted to ask me a question, but then changed his mind. He gestured at my laptop and instead asked, “Are you doing work here in this beautiful, tropical place?”

“I’ve been tinkering with a business plan,” I said. “Jotting down ideas as they come to me. With Pierce gone, I’ve had a lot of time to think.”

“Oh?” Tristan removed his suit jacket, folded it carefully over a chair, and sat down next to me. I felt my cheeks redden; it reminded me of the way he had begun undressing in my dream. “It has been too long since I have dug my claws into a thorough business proposal. If I may be so bold…?” He reached for the laptop.

“It’s only half done…” I said.

“Nonsense. Give it here.”

And he took my laptop and began reading intensely.

I grimaced as he reviewed the document. I really wasn’t ready for anyone to look at it, and it surprised me at how nervous it made me. He’s worked with a famous billionaire for years. I value his opinion.

Tristan finished reading the five-page document, then clicked on the menu in the top-left and saved a new copy of the file. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Making some changes.” Tristan hunched over the laptop. “I wanted to preserve your original copy.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Hush now,” he said. “I’m concentrating.”

I sat there while he typed furiously. He copied some sentences and pasted them in new places. He reorganized paragraphs, and deleted entire sections. It was like watching someone reorganize a room in my house. A room that I cared about.

“I was a technical writer in another life,” he said absently, fingers never slowing.

“Really? I thought you’ve worked for Pierce since college.”

“I have known him since college,” he clarified. “However, I worked as a technical writer at Goldman Sachs for a year before quitting to join Pierce full-time.”

Tristan continued working for a few more minutes, the clack-tap-clack of the keys the only sound. Finally, he sat back and sighed. “Here. The bones of what you had are good, but I reworded a few things and tweaked others.”

I turned the laptop towards me and began reading with a sense of apprehension. Feedback was tough to accept, and I didn’t know how harsh Tristan would be. But I found all of his changes… acceptable. More than that, they were really good.

“This is fantastic!” I found myself saying. “Especially the summary at the end. I was struggling on finding a way to succinctly state the business goals, but you reworded it perfectly. You’re brilliant.”

“High praise, but it is merely years of practice,” he replied, standing up and stretching. “IF you have any other documents that need reviewing, please do not hesitate to ask. Lately, while Pierce has been in between major projects, I have found myself with more free time than any thinking man should possess.”

“I’ll absolutely take you up on that,” I said. And I meant it. His changes, all of them, made my document so much better. “Thank you, Tristan. Really.”

His sharp blond eyebrows narrowed in a frown. “You make it seem as though you did not expect me to be helpful.”

I laughed. “You seemed somewhat hostile when I first arrived on the Bellerophon.”

“I was not hostile. I was merely skeptical as to whether you would be a good fit for Pierce’s surrogate. Now, I can see that you are indeed perfect.”

He held my gaze a few seconds longer, then picked up his bags and walked inside. I stared after him for a while, thinking about what he’d said. I wasn’t used to putting my trust in people. Not after what happened with the Bobs.

It was… relieving. It made me feel like I belonged.

24

Melinda

With plenty of time to ourselves, Andrew and I finished reading each other’s book quickly. We met one evening in the parlor to exchange opinions. I made a big bowl of popcorn, and the bartender prepared us a big pitcher of margaritas.

“Have you heard from Pierce?” I asked while flopping down onto the couch next to Andrew. “I texted him, but he hasn’t responded.”

“I heard that they had to change camps this evening because of an issue with flooding,” he replied, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “I guess there’s no signal at the new campsite.”

“He’s alive, at least,” I said with a nervous laugh. “He finished seventh today.”

“He’s over the hump. Two more days and he’ll be done. He could limp the rest of the way and still finish.”

“How many people don’t finish the race?” I asked.

“Last year, about half had to drop out. This year, it’s already worse than that because of the heat.”

“Ouch. Glad I’m sitting in an air conditioned mansion.” I took a long sip of my margarita to emphasize the point.

Andrew grinned. “Cheers to that.” He took a gulp of his own, put down the glass, and then pulled out a notepad covered with scribbles.

“What is that? A book report?”

“I took some notes,” he said defensively. “I wanted to give your book the seriousness it deserved.”

“Well now I feel bad. I kept all my opinions in my head.”

“I like to write things down. You should see the notes I keep on all the people Pierce meets with.”

“Who goes first?” I asked.

Andrew scratched his chin, then said, “Guess a number between one and ten.”

After a moment, I said, “Seven.”

Andrew blinked. “Shit. I forgot to think of a number.”

Laughing, I said, “You should have written one down. I’ll go first.”

He put his notepad down on the table and leaned back into the couch cushions with his drink. “Okay, let’s hear it. Don’t hold anything back.”

“I actually liked it!” I admitted. “Red Storm Rising wasn’t like anything I’ve ever read before, but it was pretty good. There was lots of action. It was fast-paced; I can see why you like it. The parts about sabotaging oil production felt relevant even today. I probably wouldn’t read anything else by Tom Clancy, but I’m glad I tried this one.”

Andrew looked shocked. “You don’t have any criticisms?”

“Um. It was kind of silly how the Soviets attacked Iceland first. That didn’t make any sense to me.”

“Because it gave the Soviet Union control of the GIUK gap,” Andrew explained. “That’s the waterway between Greenland, Iceland, and the UK.”

“Okay,” I said, “but that still seems irrelevant. The USSR didn’t have a strong Navy. I looked it up: at their height, the Russian navy was less than half the size of the American navy. We had a lot more aircraft carriers, too, which is what really matters. At least, according to what I read online.”

Andrew smiled and spread his hands. “I guess that’s why it’s fiction. They took some liberties. Any other complaints?”

“The ending was dumb. The Soviet leader was going to use nuclear weapons to ensure a favorable peace, so the KGB organizes a coup. Then the new leadership sues for peace, and everything goes back to normal. If everything was going back to normal anyways, why did the leader want to use nukes? That seemed counterintuitive to me.”

“I can see that,” Andrew admitted.

“That’s it,” I said. “Thanks for the recommendation. Okay, your turn.”

Andrew finished his margarita and refilled his glass—and mine—from the pitcher. “I didn’t expect you to have such a positive opinion on my book.”

“Really? Why not?”

“I don’t know.” He looked at his notes. “Your book was good. We don’t have to go into the details.”

“Aw, come on! Tell me what you think. It’s okay if you didn’t like parts of it.”

He grimaced, then picked up his notepad. “All right. I’m not sure where to start…”

“First, tell me what you liked about it,” I said.

“Um.” He cleared his throat. “About that…”

“Wait. Did you hate the entire thing? Andrew!”

“Okay, yes! I hated it!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t want to hate your favorite book, but I did. And now I’m afraid I’m going to hurt your feelings.”

I patted his leg. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m a big girl. I can handle some criticism.” I took a very long pull from my drink. “Okay, now I can handle the criticism. Go. Seriously, hit me with it. Don’t hold back.”

“Okay…” He scanned his notes. “I wasn’t a fan of the writing style. Every single thing the characters did was like a dramatic scene from a soap opera. Phrases like I clutched my heart, and I shuddered were used dozens of times. There were a lot of run-on sentences, too. It was distracting.”

“Fair enough. What else?”

“The world-building was really vague. They have magic, but it’s never really explained. There aren’t any rules. Also, nothing really happens until the last quarter of the book. Before that, they just kind of meander around aimlessly.”

“I guess I can see that,” I admitted.

“Oh, and the villain was a complete idiot!” he said heatedly. “The villain finds Claire, who she thinks is the main character Feyre, and tortures and kills her. Makes sense. But then when the real Feyre arrives, the villain suddenly decides to give her a chance! It was like in those old James Bond movies where the villain has already won, but decides to give a long monologue that allows Bond to escape. It made no sense. Why did she give her a bunch of trials? Why didn’t she just kill her the way she did to Claire? It was like she wanted Feyre to succeed. There were several times where I was yelling at my Kindle. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me.”

“Ah. I didn’t think she was that dumb…”

“Feyre is also a really bland heroine. She’s constantly getting rescued at the last minute in the worst possible deus-ex-machina way. I understand that this is the Young Adult genre, but I didn’t connect with her at all. Also, speaking of the genre, it was a lot more graphic than I expected. Which is great and all, but it shocked me considering the genre.”

“I thought you would like the sex!”

“I did! But that just confuses me as to why it’s marketed to, like teens.”

The fervency in which he disliked the book stung a little. “I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from,” I said curtly. “It gets better in the second book, though.”

“That’s good to know,” Andrew said. “I assume they go deeper into Feyre’s relationship with Tamlin?”

“Not at all. In the second book, she ditches him and hooks up with Rhysand.”

“Oh my God. Then what was the point of this book? Why is everything a drawn-out series these days? A book should be good all by itself!” Andrew glanced at me, then let out a long sigh. “I hurt your feelings, didn’t I?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You told me not to hold back!” he argued weakly. “I thought you would dislike my book too, and we would have some good banter back and forth about it.”

“I’m surprised you hated it that much, but I’m not offended.” I refilled my drink from the pitcher. “Although my opinion of you has dropped significantly.”

He tossed his notepad aside and grinned at me. “I guess I’ll just have to win you over again.”

“Who said you ever won me over?”

“I win everyone over. It’s what makes me a good valet. I’m a likable guy.”

“Until you start ranting about people’s favorite books…” I muttered.

“Favorite books?” Tristan said, striding into the parlor.

“You know you don’t have to dress up all the time, right?” I teased.

He looked down at himself—vest, dress shirt, and gray slacks. “Of course. That is why I removed my jacket after dinner.”

“What’s your favorite book?” I asked.

Tristan sat in the chair catercorner to our couch and grabbed the bowl of popcorn. “I prefer reading non-fiction in my free time. Most recently, I read Sapiens, by Yuval Noah Harari, which is a history of humans and their social structures. I intend to read the sequel, Homo Deus, next.”

“Sounds enthralling,” Andrew muttered, rolling his eyes for my benefit.

“I assure you it was.”

The bartender smoothly replaced the empty margarita pitcher with a fresh one, placing an empty glass in front of Tristan. The Englishman nodded his head in thanks.

“We read each other’s favorite books,” I explained. “Andrew’s is Red Storm Rising.”

“By that military tosser Tom Clancy?” Tristan scoffed haughtily. “His books are overly stuffed with bollocks acronyms and officer jargon. It’s the rare case where the movie counterparts are all superior to the books.”

“Even though Sean Connery doesn’t even attempt a Russian accent?” I asked.

“His performance certainly left much to be desired.” Tristan sipped his margarita and smacked his lips. “Although all the other actors are quite good in that movie. Particularly Sam Neill. His Russian accent was passable.”

“Tell us how you really feel,” Andrew muttered. “No, don’t do that. I’m afraid of what you might say about my favorite author after a margarita or two.”

“It is possible,” Tristan said, motioning his glass like a professor in the middle of a lecture, “that I have already consumed multiple alcoholic beverages prior to joining you both. The best way to combat jet lag, in my opinion.”

“The most fun way, at least,” I said with a smile. “Don’t listen to Andrew. I’m glad to hear your opinion on Clancy. You clearly have excellent taste in books.”

Andrew shook his head.

“And what is your favorite novel?” Tristan asked me.

Confident that he would not have read it, I told him.

Tristan snorted derisively. “Sarah J. Maas is evidence that the traditional publishing industry is full of rubbish. Those novels are the literary equivalent of eating Cadbury chocolate for dinner.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “If you sit down and read them…”

“I have read all four books,” Tristan interrupted. “Including that Frost and Starlight novella nonsense. I can assure you my opinion is well-founded indeed. To begin, the riddle in the first book is so simplistic that—”

“Okay, I get the idea,” I said. “I don’t want both of you to rant about how bad my favorite book series is.”

“Very well.” Tristan looked embarrassed, so he stared into the depths of his margarita. “The sex scenes are satisfying, at least.”

“I’m actually impressed,” Andrew said. “You managed to walk in here and offend both of us in the span of a few minutes.”

“Oh, come now,” Tristan said. “Surely both of you have skin thick enough to withstand some basic criticism.”

Nodding, I said, “I do, but I don’t like the series because it’s high literature. It’s a series that meant a lot to me when I was a teenager.”

“That’s how I felt about Clancy books,” Andrew added. “I was a teenager growing up in a small town in Ohio, and his books gave me a wider view of the world.”

“I guess context matters,” I admitted. “Art is subjective, and varies depending on that individual’s circumstances at the time.”

“Well said,” Andrew replied. We smiled at each other. It felt like a truce.

“Let us turn to a lighter discussion,” Tristan announced. “Did you two enjoy the past week together? And was the sex good?”

“The… the sex?” I asked. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business, but yes, Pierce and I have begun sleeping together, within the parameters of the contract I signed.”

“Not Pierce,” Tristan said. “I meant the sex between you and Andrew.”

25

Melinda

Andrew almost spit out his drink. I gawked at Tristan, certain that he had made a mistake.

“Andrew and I have not had sex,” I said.

“But of course you have,” Tristan replied. “That is why you remained here rather than visiting Rhode Island for a week, is it not?”

“I… I told you. I didn’t feel like going home to visit my family.”

“Which was an obvious lie, since you are quite close to your mother and call her nearly every day.” Tristan looked back and forth between us. “Oh. Oh no. You really have not had sex, have you?”

“I already told you no!” I protested.

“We have not,” Andrew said curtly.

“I see.” Tristan sloshed his drink around in the glass. “Well then. Shall we return to discussing A Court of Thorns and Roses? I have opinions on the book’s views on feminism.”

“Why would you think we had sex?” I asked.

“Because of the wording of the contract,” Tristan replied simply. “Pierce told me you discovered the loophole. And, to be quite frank, you and Andrew have appeared quite fond of one-another since I returned today.”

Andrew and I looked at each other. “We’ve been hanging out,” I said.

“Jogging, and watching TV,” Andrew added. “There’s not much else to do around here.”

“Indeed. Hence my skepticism of why you would remain while Pierce was gone.” He finished the rest of the drink and put the glass down. “I must apologize if I made you uncomfortable. It appears I have been operating under several unfounded assumptions.”

“You knew about the loophole?” Andrew asked me.

If I had been sober, I might have gotten up and run away. But the alcohol made me a little more fearless, and a little less embarrassed about the entire situation. Things were already crazy: I was being paid to sleep with a famous billionaire. Compared to that, the loophole was almost laughably quaint.

“My lawyer told me about it,” I said. “Both of you were aware of it already?”

The two of them glanced at each other, then nodded. “Pierce made us aware, yes,” Andrew said.

There was something in the way he said it that piqued my curiosity. Folding my legs underneath me on the couch, I twisted to face him. “Hold on. When I mentioned the loophole to Pierce, he acted like it was just some vague possibility. Hearing you discuss it, though… Did you three talk about it? I mean, the possibility of it being one of you who impregnates me?”

I was shocked, but satisfied, by my own bluntness. The alcohol was definitely helping me be so forward with them. It caught both of them off guard too, which gave me another pang of satisfaction.

“It wasn’t, like, a plan or anything,” Andrew said. “Pierce made us aware of his potential fertility issues. He asked if we would be willing to be donors for a potential surrogate.”

“This was long before you were selected, I might add,” Tristan chimed in.

Andrew nodded. He looked uncomfortable. “It was only a contingency. Something we would discuss in greater detail once we were certain he couldn’t… conceive a child on his own. I assumed that would be months from now, if not longer.”

“I also made the assumption that this was not a pressing concern, but one for a later date.” Tristan gestured toward the couch. “Yet when I saw how fond you two have become…”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Pierce told you about my dream, didn’t he?”

“Dream?” Andrew asked.

Tristan frowned thoughtfully. “I haven’t been told of any dream.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. They seemed to be telling the truth. At least that embarrassing tidbit hadn’t been shared.

Still though, this was insane. I had signed a contract with a billionaire, and he intended for his valet or personal assistant to step in and knock me up if he wasn’t able to. And they had talked about it before this. So many parts of me wanted to laugh in their faces, then storm home to Rhode Island.

Yet talking about it like this took away most of the stigma. I knew Andrew and Tristan, and I liked them. That made it feel different than if Pierce blindfolded me and let his staff have their way with me.

Although thinking about it like that did send an excited, sexy shiver up my spine.

“You have every right to be upset,” Andrew began.

“I’m not upset,” I said.

“You’re not?”

To my own surprise, it was the truth. I wasn’t upset. If I was being totally honest with myself, I was intrigued by Pierce’s mention of the loophole being intentional. In his absence, I had grown closer to Andrew—not just because I was bored, but because of my curiosity about the loophole. I realized I had been waiting to see if Andrew would make a move while his billionaire friend-slash-boss was gone.

And part of me was disappointed he hadn’t.

“Pierce told me something that I didn’t really believe,” I said. “He claimed that he doesn’t get jealous. He insisted he wouldn’t be upset if I slept with someone else.” I took another sip of my margarita before going on. “In fact, his only stipulation was that I send him a video of it.”

I wasn’t sure how either of them would react. Tristan rolled his eyes. Andrew chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

I sat up a little straighter. “Wait, really?”

“I…” Andrew glanced at Tristan.

“There are aspects of this arrangement that we have agreed never to share with anyone without Pierce’s express permission,” Tristan explained. “Suffice to say: this is not the first time such a request has been made, nor the first time it has been fulfilled.”

My body was alive now, practically vibrating with interest. “Really? You’ve made a sex tape before and shared it with Pierce? Come on, tell me!”

Tristan cradled his chin like a detective. “First, tell us about this dream.”

“Oh, yeah!” Andrew said. “The dream.”

Just then, the bartender came into the room and asked if we needed anything else. “We are quite fine, thank you Salvador,” Tristan replied. “You can retire for the evening.”

When he left, Salvador closed the door to the parlor behind him.

“The dream. Tell us about it,” Andrew insisted.

“There was no dream,” I lied. “I was testing you.”

“I suspect it was a sex dream,” Tristan said. “There is no need to blush, dear Melinda. You are among friends. Competitive friends, I might add. Which of us did you dream about? Your cheeks are turning yet a deeper shade of red, proving that my assumption is correct.”

“Okay fine. It was a sex dream.”

“There you have it,” Tristan nodded. “A perfectly natural thing. I once had a torrid affair in my dreams involving Catherine, the seventy-five year old director of Pierce’s charitable foundation. Such dreams are out of our control. There is nothing to be embarrassed about, Melinda.”

“And…?” Andrew asked me. “Who was your dream about?”

This was a crossroads. The kind of moment where a friendship—or relationship—might change for the worse based on new information. I could lie, save my embarrassment, and go to bed if I wanted. Neither of them ever had to know.

But I was immensely curious about where the night might take us, and I was even more curious about what the three of them had done in the past. And on top of all of that, I was the kind of person who believed that the truth should always come out as quickly as possible, rather than being hidden away. If everyone felt the same way—especially men like the Bobs—my life would have been better for it.

So I took a deep breath and said, “The sex dream… involved both of you.”

26

Melinda

I tensed while waiting for their reactions.

Andrew’s mouth fell open in surprise at my answer. Once he collected himself, he swallowed heavily and said, “Oh.”

Tristan seemed amused by the response, smiling wider than I had ever seen from the normally serious man and sipping his margarita. “Now that was an answer I did not expect.”

“The sex dream happened the night after Pierce told me that the loophole in the contract was intentional,” I explained. “The last thing he told me before we fell asleep was that the two of you were the best men he knew, and how he would be honored if one of you was the biological father of his heir.”

“He has told us the same,” Tristan replied. He tilted his head to one side, examining me with fresh eyes. “Did you enjoy this dream? Was it a good dream?”

“It was very good,” I said with a nervous laugh. “When I woke up, I practically tackled Pierce.”

“How did the dream go?” Andrew asked carefully. His dark eyes were wide and sparkled in the evening light of the parlor. “If you want to tell us, I mean.”

“I certainly want to hear it,” Tristan muttered, grabbing another handful of popcorn and popping a piece into his mouth.

“I’ll tell you every. Sizzling. Detail.” I leaned closer to Andrew as I said it, giving him a view down my shirt. “But first you have to tell me what you two have done with Pierce before.”

The two of them looked at each other.

“I’ll obtain Pierce’s express permission,” Tristan said, pulling out his phone.

“He doesn’t have signal tonight,” Andrew said. “They changed campsites.”

“Hmm.” Tristan tossed his phone on the coffee table next to the popcorn. “Although I am certain Pierce would approve, I am not sure I can tell you without—”

“We had group sex with a woman he was dating,” Andrew blurted out.

There was exactly three seconds of silence.

“Elaborate,” I said.

“In for a penny, in for a pound.” Tristan grabbed Andrew’s glass, downed the rest of his drink, then sank back into his chair. “A woman, who shall remain nameless, confided in Pierce one of her deepest, darkest sexual fantasies. A prerequisite for this specific fantasy was three men. Andrew and I were recruited for the task.”

“He made you join him?” I asked. There was a vague sense of conflicting interests in the act; these two men were employed by Pierce, and because of that, might not be in a position to decline.

“He didn’t make us do anything,” Andrew said with a fond smile. “Trust me: we were very willing participants.”

“Enthusiastic ones, you might say,” Tristan agreed.

“Okay,” I said. My body was buzzing with excitement now. “What specific sexual fantasy required three men?”

“I’m sure you can figure that out,” Andrew replied.

“Let’s pretend that I have a poor imagination. Give me all the details.”

Before Andrew could reply, Tristan chimed in: “It is your turn. Tell us about your dream, and we will respond with our own details.”

“Yeah,” Andrew said. “You first, Melinda.”

The hunger in his eyes was undeniable. It couldn’t have been more obvious if he shouted it at me. That, and the way Tristan was watching from the chair, pushed me over the edge. I decided to take a chance, to make the first move, which felt like leaping into an endless chasm.

I threw a leg over Andrew, straddling him on the couch. Technically that wasn’t how the dream started, but it was close enough. “My dream started like this.” I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it at Tristan. “I was grinding in your lap, and you were kissing my bare chest.”

“Your chest isn’t bare.” Andrew’s hips gave a tiny little thrust upward into me. I could feel his hard length through the fabric of his jeans. “You’re wearing a bra.”

“Good point.” I quickly unclasped it and tossed it at Tristan. The air was cool on my bare skin, and I felt a shiver of nervousness now that I was nude and neither of them were. “There. It was like this.”

Andrew’s chest heaved with a deep breath as he took in the sight of me for the first time. His breath was warm on my nipples as he leaned closer, his mouth tantalizingly close.

“Did I caress you with my hands?” he asked.

“I don’t remember,” I breathed. “Refresh my memory for me?”

Finally, Andrew let go of whatever inhibition he had been holding onto. He touched my hips, then ran his hands up my side and finally across both breasts. His cock pulsed underneath me as he squeezed me for the first time, finally leaning forward the rest of the way and kissing my nipple. In the chair to my right, Tristan let out a soft noise of approval as he watched.

“Ohh, just like that,” I crooned while Andrew’s tongue devoured my nipple. “That feels so good. Just like in the dream.”

“Yeah?” Andrew asked before refocusing on his task.

“Mmm hmm. The only difference is we were both naked in the dream.”

“We can make that happen,” he replied.

I shook my head. “Not yet. Keep kissing me first.”

I meant kissing my breasts, but Andrew put a hand on the back of my head and pulled me down into a real kiss. The surprise of it made his lips that much sweeter as our mouths connected for the first time, the culmination of a week of teasing, laughing, and flirting. A moan bubbled out of my throat, changing pitch as Andrew’s fingers gave my nipple a tiny little pinch.

“And what was I doing during all of this?” Tristan asked. “In the dream, of course.”

“You were sitting nearby. Watching,” I explained. I felt like I was in control of the situation, so I added, “I’ll tell you when you’re needed.”

Tristan chuckled and said, “I excel at following instructions.”

Andrew and I made out on the couch while Tristan watched from the side. Having his hungry eyes on us turned me on far more than I expected. As our kiss deepened, tongues dancing wetly with the faint taste of lime from the margaritas, I ground against Andrew’s crotch with greater urgency.

“What happened next?” Andrew finally demanded. “Tell me.”

Gazing up at me, I could tell he would do anything I asked. Anything my heart desired. Knowing that all of this was okay, knowing that Pierce had insisted on it, took away most of the anxiety I would have otherwise felt about the situation.

The only thing left was the desire to fulfill the sizzling fantasy of the dream.

“Next I was on my back, and you… were fucking me,” I replied.

Andrew leaned up to kiss me again. Then he took over, grabbing me by the waist and rolling me sideways on the couch. His fingers were at my jeans quickly, unbuttoning and unzipping and unclothing like there was no time to waste. I grabbed at his shirt, tugging it over his head until we were both bare and vulnerable together. I stared up at him, giving him a hungry look that needed no translation.

“Hurry,” I breathed as he guided himself into me. “Don’t go slowly. I need it, I need you, please—yes!”

I cried out as he sank into me, every throbbing inch of his cock filling me. He wasn’t painfully huge the way he was in the dream, but he was the perfect size in real life—enough that my moan carried on for several seconds as I wrapped my legs around him and held him against me. He bent down to kiss me, his chestnut hair brushing against my face as he began to move, pumping into me with barely-restrained desire.

Over in the chair, Tristan’s blue-gray eyes bore into us intently.

Oh my God, it’s really happening, I thought as Andrew fucked me. Just like in the dream.

It was so wonderful, so intense, that I was close within seconds. The moment I touched my clit, pressing it inward with just the right amount of pressure, the storm was unleashed. I panted frantically for a few seconds, then gasped and shuddered with sweet release as the orgasm rocked me. Seeing my pleasure, Andrew slammed his cock into me as hard as he could, jackhammering me so thoroughly that the climax went on and on and on. Even when I took my hand away and cupped his cheek, his urgent thrusts caused little aftershock orgasms to roll up and down my body like waves against the beach outside.

It could have ended there. Andrew could have tensed, gripping me tightly and shooting his seed deep inside of me, and we all would have gone to bed happy.

But it wasn’t enough. This was just the beginning of the dream. And now that we had begun acting it out, I needed to see it through to the end.

“Bend me over,” I begged. “Fuck me from behind.”

Andrew slowed the thrusting of his hips, gave me a long, deep kiss on the lips, then lifted me in the air. I spun around, landing on my knees. Knowing what came next in the dream, I crawled forward until my elbows were on the armrest of the couch. Facing Tristan.

“Are you enjoying watching?” I asked.

Tristan was gripping his cock through his dress pants, stroking steadily. “I am quite enjoying it,” he purred in that posh, proper accent. “Although I would be happy to join at any time.”

“Not yet,” I said, giving my ass a little shake as Andrew knelt behind me. “First you have to watch—ohhh.”

I trailed off as Andrew filled me from behind, both hands squeezing my ass. For a little while, I closed my eyes and savored the new, more intense angle.

But the dream was still fresh in my mind.

“Tell him to give it to me harder,” I said to Tristan.

“Give it to her harder,” he said, exactly like in the dream. “She likes it hard, it appears.”

“Oh, I do.”

Our skin slapped together noisily as Andrew buried himself into me from behind. There was a tension in his grip, and the raspy way he breathed. I wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, and there was a lot more of the dream to reenact.

“We must not forget Pierce’s single requirement,” Tristan said, retrieving his phone from the table. He hesitated, then said, “If we are all comfortable with that.”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. “Take a video for Pierce. And for us to watch after.”

“God, that’s hot,” Andrew groaned. “I can’t wait to see what this looks like.”

Thinking about watching the video with them after was almost as hot as doing it. I moaned louder as Tristan aimed the camera.

But I also couldn’t wait. I had never had a threesome before, and having Tristan so close without participating was practically torture. So I decided to skip ahead in the script a little.

“Do you think he’s enjoying watching,” I asked Andrew over my shoulder, “or do you think he wants to participate?”

Andrew, now glistening with sweat, rumbled a laugh. “I bet he’s itching to join in.”

I turned to Tristan and the recording phone and said, “I certainly want him to join in.”

“Is that so?” he replied without moving.

“Hurry,” I begged. “I need you. Come here.”

Tristan kept recording with his phone as he approached the edge of the couch. When he was close enough, I grabbed his belt and yanked him forward, unzipping his pants and reaching inside to find his stiff cock. As soon as I had it threaded through his fly, I wrapped my lips around his crown and began sucking him off just like in the dream.

The noise Tristan made deep in his throat was music to my ears. He seemed barely able to keep the phone steady as I took more of him in my mouth, giving him as thorough a blowjob as possible for the camera.

I’m really doing this, I thought while they took me from both ends at the same time. I’m having a threesome.

And it was every bit as hot as I imagined.

Another climax rocked me, this one more intense than the first. I screamed my ecstasy as loud as I could, muffled by Tristan’s hard length. And when he grabbed the back of my head and began guiding me faster while thrusting forward at the same time, it ratcheted my pleasure up another scintillating level.

I closed my eyes as the ecstasy washed over me, almost too intense for me to handle.

Almost.

“I’m going to come,” Andrew’s voice cut through the hum that filled my ears. “Do you…”

“Yes,” I begged. “Come inside me. Fill me.”

“I am also close,” Tristan gritted out, hand still planted firmly on the back of my head. He pushed me back onto his cock. “You feel amazing. Tell me where to come.”

I thought about it, and there was only one suitable answer.

I opened my mouth and cried out, demanding from them what I wanted.

27

Pierce

I glanced at my GPS watch. I was at thirty-two miles, which meant I should have reached camp half a mile ago. But based on the view down the valley below me, I still had at least a mile to go.

Just like yesterday, I thought, gritting my teeth. And the day before that.

The view was breathtaking, which helped me ignore my aching muscles and the nagging pain in the back of my right knee. Today’s route had us crossing along the ridge in Corcovado National Park, and for once the foliage was sparse enough that I could see for miles. It was all wild, totally untamed jungle. I had been running through it all day, but seeing it gave me a different appreciation.

And beyond the jungle was a thin beach along the Pacific Ocean. I had been fantasizing about jumping in the cool water for hours.

I caught sight of something neon on the trail up ahead; that color wasn’t natural, not even in a vibrant place like this, so it had to be another runner. Knowing that my heart rate was already in the highest zone and close to red-lining, I pushed the pace as the path descended down into the jungle. Sure enough, I caught up to him five minutes later. Viggo, a racer from Sweden. He and I had been leapfrogging all day, and I had given up hope of catching him in the last stretch.

“Looking strong,” I said as I passed him.

“You too,” he said, grimacing in pain.

I reached the day’s finish line, and camp, two miles later. Viggo stumbled across a minute behind me. “You’re fourth,” the race director told me while crossing my name off the sheet. “Nice job out there, Benny.”

“That river crossing was hell,” I told him.

He grinned at me. “Lots of rain last night. The current is stronger than usual.”

Our camp was in a clearing adjacent to the beach; there was a nice breeze, and the calming sound of waves. Like a zombie, I limped across camp. The showers were nothing more than hoses hanging from tree limbs, but it felt like a luxury after five hours in the sweltering jungle. Still wearing all my running clothes, I stood under the cold water until my body temperature came down enough for me to move around again.

My stomach ached as much as my legs, so I next went to the camp kitchen and made myself four peanut butter sandwiches with honey. After wolfing them down—and thinking about more food—I collected my duffel bag of belongings. The tents were arranged in neat rows like a war camp, and I found mine somewhere near the outer edge. Good; I would have a breeze from the ocean at night.

My brain was fuzzy, but my body knew the routine. I changed into fresh clothes, then laid out my running gear, shoes, and socks in the sun to dry. I unfolded my sleeping pad and plugged my phone into a portable battery in my tent. I laid down for half an hour, not sleeping because my body was still too tight from the run, but savoring the feeling of being horizontal nonetheless.

After a visit to the medical tent to have some foot blisters popped, I wandered back to the food tent. Most of the other runners had come in by now, and called out greetings and jokes. Dinner was being served, so I fixed myself a plate—rice, beans, and chicken—and sat down to methodically refuel.

The race director stood up and briefed us on tomorrow’s run: twenty-nine miles beginning at five o’clock, with two river crossings and seven miles running on the exposed beach. That was the final day, followed by the awards ceremony and celebrations. Making a note to take extra sunscreen, I got up and limped to bed with all the other runners.

As I settled into my tent, I allowed my mind to shift away from survival mode. My phone had chimed with a dozen notifications when I reached the beach, but I was too busy staying ahead of Viggo to worry about it. Now, I opened my phone and winced: over a hundred text messages. Ignoring all the people I didn’t care about, I scrolled until I found the ones I cared about. The first ones from her were sent last night:

Melinda: How’s the race going? You’re supposed to have signal tonight, right? Send me a photo of your tent!

Melinda: Aw, Andrew just told me they changed camps and you don’t have signal. Oh well! Text me when you get this. Hope the race is going well. Andrew and I are sitting down to talk about books. Hope you’re still alive!

After scanning a few more texts from other people, I sent a reply:

Me: Got into camp. I’m still alive.

Melinda: YAY! Just one more day, right?

Me: Tomorrow is the finish, correct. I’m ready to be done.

Melinda: Friendly reminder that you chose to sign up for this dumb event where you run all day and then sweat all night in a smelly tent.

Me: We’re on a beach, and there’s a nice breeze. It’s actually comfortable for once! I might be able to sleep tonight.

Melinda: You haven’t slept yet?!?!

Me: A little. But not great. How’s everything back at the island?

Melinda: Everything is good. The race website says you’re in fourth place. Do you think you can catch the guy who’s in third?

Me: Doubtful. He’s got an hour lead on me, and he’s close to second place. Which means he’ll be pushing it tomorrow rather than coasting.

Melinda: Aw, too bad. Fourth is still amazing, though! Especially out of so many competitors.

Me: I’m very happy with fourth. Two years ago I came in eighth, and I was ecstatic to be in the top ten.

Melinda: What did you have for dinner?

Me: Beans, rice, and chicken. I had three bowls. And that was after four peanut butter sandwiches.

Melinda: I can’t imagine eating that much food.

Me: My engine’s burning real hot. My metabolism will be in overdrive for a month after I get back.

I frowned at the screen. She was asking lots of questions, and avoided answering how things are at the island. Was she happy to make conversation now that I was back on the grid, or was she skirting around a subject?

Melinda: Hey, so were you serious about what you said? That you would be okay with me getting impregnated by other men?

There it was. I smiled; I had hoped something might happen, or at the very least that her curiosity would be piqued.

Me: I told you: I am nothing if not a serious man. I was telling you the truth. Did you take me up on the offer?

Melinda: Perhaps.

Me: With who? Andrew? Tristan? Alejandro? Marcelo?

Melinda: Well… both of them.

Me: I’m assuming you mean Andrew and Tristan?

Melinda: Yes. How do you feel about that?

I considered myself to have a high emotional intelligence, so I paused to examine my feelings. I really wasn’t jealous—at least not in the traditional sense. At that very moment I was jealous that they were with her and I was stuck in a tent far away, but that was a different kind of jealousy.

Instead, I felt a thrill of hope. This increased the chances of an heir being produced. I was one step closer to having a child, to having a family, and that made me happier than I could have possibly explained.

Me: That’s wonderful! I feel good about it. I assume it was enjoyable for everyone involved?

Melinda: Yes, it was.

Me: How have the boys reacted? I assume Tristan is his usual self, but I’m sure Andrew is as awkward as a teenager.

Melinda: LOL, you hit the nail on the head. Andrew won’t stop blushing whenever I see him.

Melinda: You’re sure that you’re fine?

Me: Aside from the fact that I’m sleeping on the ground, I’m great.

Me: Actually, there’s one thing about your news that makes me unhappy.

Melinda: What?

Me: You didn’t take a video like I asked.

Melinda: I wanted to make sure you had good cell signal first! We took a video. Want to see it?

Me: You’re damn right I do.

She sent the video. I only had two bars of service, so the loading symbol moved with agonizing slowness. When it finished, I popped in an earbud and hit play.

They were in the parlor, and Andrew was fucking Melinda from behind. She was on her hands and knees, gazing over the edge of the couch toward the person recording—Tristan, I presumed.

Goddamn. I was instantly hard.

“Hurry,” Melinda begged the camera. “I need you. Come here.”

Even though she was talking to Tristan, it was easy to imagine she was beckoning me. Tristan got up and approached the couch, and then Melinda was giving him a blowjob. The camera alternated from facing down at her lips wrapped around his cock, and aiming higher to show her heart-shaped ass bouncing against Andrew’s navel. She moaned loudly, a sound that was music to my ears.

I was wearing thin shorts, so it was easy to pull them down far enough to expose myself. With the tent zipped up, I had enough privacy to stroke my throbbing cock. I didn’t go slow—I was immediately jacking myself off rapidly, imagining that I was there in the video as a participant. Especially with their sultry moans in my ear.

Andrew came, his knuckles white as his fingers dug into the flesh of her ass. His arms actually trembled as he filled her. Moments later, Tristan announced that he was close.

“Tell me where to come,” he commanded.

Melinda pulled her mouth away and gazed up at the camera, her eyelids heavy with pleasure. “Come in my pussy. Fill me the way Andrew did.”

And then Tristan was scrambling around to the front of the couch. Andrew spun her sideways, so that she was hanging off the back of the couch with her beautiful rump in the air. Tristan barely kept the camera steady as he buried his cock into her from behind. Her pussy swallowed every inch of his hard length, and then Tristan was crying out with his own strained pleasure.

As I watched the base of his cock throb into her, my own dick spasmed in my fingers. I barely muffled a moan of ecstasy as I began to come, shooting my hot seed all over my bare belly and chest.

The video ended. After panting for a few moments in my tent, I played it again. I was still rock hard, even after my orgasm, so I lazily continued stroking myself.

“Come in my pussy,” Melinda begged again. “Fill me the way Andrew did.”

It felt so good, and I pleasured myself faster and faster. Suddenly, with shocking abruptness, my balls tingled and I started coming a second time. This time I couldn’t muffle my cries completely, but I managed to hold them to what I hoped sounded like a long sigh to anyone in the nearby tents.

Thank goodness I grabbed some paper towels after dinner, I thought as I cleaned myself up.

Just as I was coming down again, a new text message popped up on the screen, blocking part of the video:

Melinda: Did you get the video? Are you okay?

Me: I’m more than okay. I watched it three times. And came twice.

Melinda: LOL, yeah right.

Me: I’m serious. I came once, and then a second orgasm came soon after. I think my body is confused after all this running.

Me: But it was hot, Melinda. REALLY fucking hot.

Melinda: I’m so glad you liked it! The three of us watched it together in bed afterward. I don’t really like how I look.

Me: Are you kidding me? You’re the sexiest woman I know. I’m going to be dreaming about taking you from behind like that.

Melinda: I doubt I’m the sexiest woman you know. Didn’t you date Taylor Swift?

Me: Those are only rumors. Rumors which I can neither confirm nor deny. But I meant what I said. I’m so lucky to have you as my surrogate.

Me: And when I get back, I plan on proving it to you.

Melinda: You’d better :-)

And I meant it, too. When I got back, I was going to show Melinda just how sexy I thought she was.

For the first time since the race began, I had no trouble falling asleep in my tent.

28

Tristan

It had been twenty-four hours since we became more familiar with Melinda. So far, it was a roaring good time.

I came back from the bathroom to find Melinda and Andrew giggling in bed. We were in her bedroom tonight, which was far more comfortable than the parlor last night. The bed was a lot bigger than the couch, which gave us plenty of room to maneuver in every manner of position.

“What are you two schoolgirls giggling about?” I asked, putting on my underwear. I was comfortable in my nudity, but still preferred to cover up once the activities were said and done.

“The video.” Melinda patted the bed on the other side of her. “Come watch. It’s really hot.”

I climbed into bed and leaned closer to Melinda. The flowery scent from her shampoo mingled with the sweaty aroma of sex. With her nude form so close to me, I had to resist the urge to run my hands over her again.

“Start it from the beginning,” Andrew instructed from the other side of her.

“I am!” she said. “Be patient. Here we go.”

This time we had positioned the camera on the bedside table, allowing it to run while we focused solely on showing appreciation for Melinda’s beautiful body. She was on top of Andrew, riding him up and down while he squeezed her breasts. Her blonde hair hung down, gently rocking back and forth.

I came into frame, climbing on the bed behind Melinda. I grabbed her by the hips, lifting her off Andrew and then burying my face between her cheeks. As I watched myself eat her out from behind, I could taste her cunt on my tongue again from memory. It made me hard again, even though I had just come.

Then I gave her arse a healthy smack, slid my cock into her, and began fucking her from behind.

She arched her back, savoring it, until Andrew pulled her head down into a long kiss. I continued shagging her doggy style until I was close to coming, right up to the edge. Then I stopped myself and pulled out.

“Your turn,” I told Andrew.

He pushed himself up into her from underneath and took over. I allowed my cock to rest between the delicious globes of her backside, glistening wetly. She rode Andrew like that until he was about to come, and then he grabbed her waist with strong hands and stopped her.

“I’m so close,” he gritted out. “You take over.”

We alternated like that, taking turns fucking Melinda while she remained wedged between our bodies. It looked like we were double-penetrating her from this angle, although I knew we weren’t. Gradually, the time each of us lasted became shorter and shorter. Soon each of us was only remaining inside of her for a few ragged thrusts before pulling out.

By then, Melinda was begging for our come. And eventually, we gave her her wish.

I was the one to lose this game of orgasm chicken. I took over from Andrew, but I was still too close to the edge, and the moment I filled her again I realized I couldn’t hold back. Knowing the end was near, I grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged, causing her to arch her back. The view was as beautiful from the camera as it was when I was depositing my seed within her.

I had never come inside a woman before. Not without protection. Perhaps it was the edging, but it was an order of magnitude more intense than an orgasm with a condom on. So toe-curlingly wonderful that my eyes watered and my entire body shuddered with release.

There was something so erotic about it. A connection between the two of us that went beyond the removal of a layer of latex.

“Wow,” Melinda breathed next to me in bed. “This is a lot hotter than I expected.”

“I’ll say,” Andrew replied as he took over on the video. We couldn’t see it, but we could tell from his agonized cries that he was coming inside of her now. “Pierce is going to love it.”

“Should we send it to him now?” Melinda asked. “He’s probably asleep, and won’t get it until the morning.”

“That would be a pleasant way to wake up,” I said. “Completely stiff and unable to do anything about it.”

Melinda turned and grinned at me. “Well, he came twice while watching the first video we sent him. At least, that’s what he claimed when I texted him about it two hours ago.”

“Twice? Well, then. We should be quite pleased with ourselves.”

“I sure am!” she announced happily, restarting the video to watch again. “You never did tell me what you guys and Pierce did with that other woman. Her big fantasy or whatever.”

I shared a look with Andrew. He shrugged slightly.

“She desired being ravaged by three ludicrously-handsome men simultaneously,” I said. “But since none were available, she had to settle on the three of us.”

“I think you’re handsome,” she replied, eyes still focused on the video. “Ludicrous is a strong word, but I would absolutely say the three of you are extremely handsome. So how did it happen? What positions?”

I shared another look with Andrew. I wasn’t sure how much we should tell her.

“If you’re thinking about not telling me,” she warned, “you should just blurt it out. I want to know!”

“She wanted…” Andrew stroked Melinda’s hair back and kissed her on the temple. He really was doting on her, I noted. “She wanted to be filled by all three of us. At the same time.”

“Much like that.” I pointed at the video playing on the phone. “With a third cock for her mouth, of course.”

Melinda’s eyes widened. “Oh. You mean…”

I nodded.

“One of you… put it in her butt?”

“That would be Andrew, by virtue of his girth. No offense.”

“None taken. I’m very happy with my hardware.”

“Wouldn’t that… hurt?” Melinda asked.

“You have to work up to that, from what I understand,” I explained. “This woman was no stranger to anal sex, though previously it was with a single man. What the three of us did was her first time. I seem to recall her enjoying it quite thoroughly.”

“Oh, she liked it all right,” Andrew added. “I’ve never heard a woman make noises like that before.”

“Wow, okay.” Melinda’s eyes were wide, but I could see the gears turning in her head. Thinking about it. Considering it. “You definitely can’t get pregnant that way.”

“Indeed you cannot,” I agreed.

She kissed me on the cheek, did the same to Andrew, then put her phone away and snuggled up under the covers. She tucked her head against my lap, making a happy little noise as she wrapped the thick comforter around her.

“Are we going to sleep, then?” I asked.

“Mmm hmm,” she purred.

“I have to take my contact lenses out and brush my teeth,” I said. I wasn’t comfortable sleeping in someone else’s bed. Sex was one thing, but sleep was far more… personal. We had split up last night after the parlor affair, and I had assumed we would do the same this evening.

“Stay. Cuddle. Just for a little while,” Melinda said.

“Very well.” I gently caressed her hair. It was nice.

“How do the two of you feel about it?” she asked. “Essentially being sperm donors for Pierce.”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Andrew said.

“Nor do I,” I agreed. “We signed documents regarding the custody of such a situation.”

“I don’t mean the legal aspect of it,” she said softly. “You would be okay if I gave birth to a little baby who looks exactly like one of you? It wouldn’t bother you that a child, your own flesh and blood, was being raised by someone else?”

“I don’t know how I would feel,” Andrew admitted. “I think I would be okay with it. There’s a lot more to being a father than genetics.”

“That’s almost word-for-word what Pierce said about it.” Melinda snuggled closer to me. “What about you, Tristan?”

“I fail to see why it would be a concern,” I said carefully. “Surely you of all people would understand why we are not worried.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Because you are doing precisely the same thing,” I pointed out. “You’re lending your genetic material to the creation of a child who will never be your own. With the added complexity that you will be growing it inside of you for nine months. Compared to that, our jobs as potential sperm donors are minuscule.”

For a moment, I was afraid that I had gone too far. The last thing I wanted to do was give Melinda second thoughts about her status as a surrogate. If she got cold feet at this stage…

But she just shrugged her shoulders against me. “Good point. Enough talking. More snuggling. Andrew.” She snapped her fingers in the air. “Snuggles.”

He gave me a half-grin and then snuggled up on the other side of her. I continued stroking her hair, and she made another happy noise deep within her throat. Melinda looked angelic in sleep. Beautiful, at peace.

As I considered my own internal feelings, I watched her until she fell asleep, and then long after.

29

Melinda

I woke up with two warm bodies on either side of me.

It was a disorienting experience. I had never woken up next to two men before. I was on my side facing Tristan, based on the blond hair that was tickling my nose. That and the faint cologne that I recognized as his. That meant it was Andrew spooning me on the other side, one arm lazily resting over my hip.

Although my arm was sore from resting in this position, I didn’t want to move. It was so peaceful, so erotic. I felt safe and comfortable and loved.

I was loved quite a bit last night.

I smiled to myself as I thought about what we had done. And about what they told me they had done with one of Pierce’s ex-girlfriends. I never would have guessed the three of them had such a scandalous history together. Normally, men were weird about being naked around each other.

But there was nothing uncomfortable about the way Tristan and Andrew shared me last night.

Tristan woke up first, sighing heavily and then rolling out of bed. As he sat on the edge and looked at his phone, I slid up and hugged him from behind.

“Good morning.” I kissed him on the back of the neck. “I thought you were only going to cuddle until I fell asleep last night.”

“That was indeed the plan,” he whispered, holding my arm against his chest. “Unfortunately, my contact lenses have dried in my eyes, and my breath is likely foul.”

“I don’t care.” I twisted his head around and kissed him. “Well. I care a little bit. I’ll kiss you more after you’ve brushed your teeth.”

He grinned. “I look forward to it.”

Andrew was sleeping like a log, so I gently kissed him on the cheek and got up to start my day. I took a long bath, then had a big breakfast out on the terrace. Alejandro the chef smiled when I asked for a second helping of waffles, and then laughed heartily when I asked for a third after that! I had worked up an appetite, after all.

My legs were a little stiff from last night’s activities, so I decided to skip my workout and relax by the pool in the sun. As I read a book on my Kindle, I thought about how crazy it all was. First, I had signed a contract to have a billionaire’s baby. The natural way. Now I was having threesomes with his valet and personal assistant.

I couldn’t believe this was my life. I certainly never expected things to go this way when I submitted my file to the surrogate agency. And I hadn’t even gotten pregnant yet!

Andrew joined me by the pool sometime later. He was wearing blue swim trunks and matching sunglasses, smiling at me as the wind ruffled his hair. “Is this chair taken?”

I gestured next to me. “Probably not, considering I’m the only person who has been at the pool all day. Whatchya reading?”

Andrew held up a well-worn paperback. Red Storm Rising. “I figured it was about time for my yearly re-read.”

“Or,” I said, “you could start on A Court of Mist and Fury.”

“Tempting, but I think I’ll stick with a comfort read.” He grinned, then dragged the chair a little closer to mine. Not too close, but within a foot. Smiling to myself, we read our books in comfortable silence.

That afternoon, the helicopter took off and headed west. That wasn’t surprising; Alejandro had been making regular trips into the city to buy supplies for the kitchen. But it was a surprise when the helicopter returned a few hours later and the doors opened.

Andrew lifted his glasses up. “Is that… Pierce?”

“Holy shit, it is!” I said.

I tossed my kindle aside and went running down the stairs to greet Pierce by the dock. He had a thin beard, and was limping slightly. I threw myself into his arms.

“Woah now,” he said while embracing me. “My knees are a little weak right now.”

“My knees are weak seeing you step off that helicopter!” I replied. “You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow!”

“I didn’t want to wait for the buses to drive all of us back to San Jose. Besides, I wanted to sleep in a real bed tonight.”

“Wanting to get back to me had nothing to do with it?” I asked.

“The videos you sent may have had a non-zero amount of influence on my decision,” he admitted.

I sniffed loudly. “You don’t even stink!”

“I took a bath in the Pacific Ocean this morning. But trust me, I still need a thorough cleaning. I’ve been dreaming about my shower.”

I helped him limp up the stairs to the mansion; he insisted he wasn’t injured, just stiff from six days of running. Tristan and the rest of the staff weren’t surprised by his sudden arrival, which confused me.

“I was told of his plans,” Tristan admitted while Pierce disappeared down the hall to his bedroom. “He wanted it to be a surprise. We’re having a special meal tonight to celebrate.”

“More special than every other night?” I asked. “With a private chef here, it’s not like we’re eating Hamburger Helper.”

“We are having Pierce’s favorite meal. I am certain you will enjoy it.”

I was feeling greasy from the sunscreen, so I took my own shower and changed into a sundress. When I came out of my room, Pierce was walking down the hall. He was rubbing a towel into his hair, and he was now clean-shaven.

“Feel better?” I asked.

“Much better. I took a shower, then soaked in the bath, then took another shower.”

I kissed him lightly. “I’m excited about this special dinner. And I want to hear all about your race!” I turned and began walking toward the kitchen.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

I turned and frowned. “I was going to get us some drinks. Do you feel like beer, or—”

I yelped as Pierce grabbed my arm and yanked me toward my bedroom door. He shoved me inside, smirking wolfishly at me. He kicked the door closed behind him and stalked toward me like I was his prey.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said quietly. “Drinks can wait. I’m not letting another second pass before I do what I’ve been fantasizing about.”

“And what have you been fantasizing about?” I asked, biting my lip.

“This.”

He kissed me roughly, biting my lower lip. Then he shoved me down onto the bed, pulled up my sundress, yanked aside my panties, and buried the tip of his cock into my waiting lips.

Pierce pushed deeper into me, and soon I was so drenched that he filled me with ease. He covered me with his body, smelling of minty toothpaste and soap and cologne as he took me quickly. His lips never left mine as he ravaged me. He was like a man possessed, surrendering to his animal instincts as he drove into me with greater speed. I savored the mindless drive of his body until he held me tightly in his arms and came, exhaling a long moan with our foreheads pressed together, noses brushing and his eyes gazing passionately into mine.

“Okay,” he murmured into my neck as he relaxed. “Now let’s get those drinks.”

A storm was blowing in, so we took dinner in the dining room. I anxiously watched as the servers brought covered trays out to each of us. When all four were placed, they simultaneously removed the tops to reveal them all at once.

I stared down at my plate in confusion.

“This is the special meal?” I asked. “A burger and fries?”

Pierce picked up his burger with both hands and immediately took a bite. “Not just any burger. A double smash burger with extra cheese.” Without putting the burger down, he wiped grease away from his chin with his arm. “I’ve been dreaming of this burger. Oh my God.”

“One of the few things you Americans perfected,” Tristan admitted while cutting his burger in half.

“Alejandro makes the fries perfect,” Andrew agreed. “Nice and crispy.”

I took a bite of my own burger. The patties were thin and surprisingly crispy around the edges. I had to admit: it tasted amazing.

While we ate, Pierce told us about the race. He described each day, and all the wildlife he saw: toucans, snakes, tarantulas, and even a sloth. We spent much of the time laughing and teasing him for doing something so rugged despite being one of the wealthiest people on the planet.

“I don’t see how those two facts are related in any way,” Pierce argued.

“Out of the richest men on the planet, you’re the only one who wouldn’t understand,” Andrew said with a chuckle.

Pierce finished his and ordered an entire second burger and fries. While waiting for it to be made, he leaned back in his chair and sighed happily. “So. The three of you were quite busy while I was gone.”

“Indeed we were,” Tristan said.

I felt myself tense. I had wondered how he would broach the subject, if at all.

“I’m thrilled you took me up on my offer,” Pierce said. “And the videos you sent…”

“They were hot, right?” Andrew asked.

“Extremely. I enjoyed watching them more than you know.”

“I can assure you,” Tristan said with a smirk, “they were even more enjoyable to create.”

“Cheers to that,” Andrew agreed, smiling at me.

“Cheers to three times the likelihood of conceiving a child,” Pierce said, raising his own beer. “And to Melinda for being so… accommodating with this unusual situation.”

The tension slowly went out of my body. No matter what Pierce had told me, I’d expected this to be an uncomfortable conversation. But it was the opposite. The three of them seemed totally at ease about the whole thing.

“I’ve definitely enjoyed it,” I said. “Three is better than one. That’s just basic math.”

We all roared with laughter. I finished my beer and one of the servants brought me another.

“Cards on the table, I had my period earlier this week,” I said. “Unfortunately, I’m not pregnant yet.”

Pierce shrugged. “It is early. I didn’t expect you to get knocked up on the first try.”

“I guess we’ll have to keep trying, then.”

Tristan now raised his glass. “I shall drink to that!”

“Let’s discuss our plans for the next few weeks,” Pierce said. “I trust we’ve all reviewed the spreadsheet?”

Andrew and Tristan nodded. I cleared my throat. “Let’s pretend I haven’t.”

Tristan gave me an exasperated look. I responded with an apologetic grimace.

“The first thing on the schedule is the Paris fashion show,” Pierce said.

“Oh! That sounds fun!” I said.

“It’s quite the event. I want to leave tomorrow.”

Tristan frowned. “The show is not until next week. We are not scheduled to depart until Tuesday.”

“That’s true,” Pierce replied. “But since I’ve returned early, we have time to explore more of the French countryside. Maybe the southern coast. Our options don’t need to be limited to France, either…”

Suddenly, Tristan bellowed with laughter. “You sneaky devil!”

“What?” I asked. “I don’t understand.”

Andrew was grinning at Pierce. “You didn’t.”

“Our delightful employer is referring to the Monaco Grand Prix on Sunday,” Tristan said.

Pierce feigned confusion. “Oh? Is that this weekend?” Then he reached under the table and tossed a large envelope package toward Tristan. “Can you open that for me? I’m still too weak after my race.”

Inside the package were laminated tickets and passes. Tristan was grinning like a boy who had just learned that school was canceled.

“I appreciate you flying to London to handle that business on such short notice,” Pierce said. “I know how you hate to see your family. Consider this my thanks.”

“Was it business related to your next venture?” I asked.

Pierce wagged a finger at me. “No work talk at the dinner table. This is a celebration.”

“You have outdone yourself, Pierce,” Tristan said. “I am forever in your debt.”

“I’d consider it the opposite. I owe you more than I could ever explain.” Pierce smiled around the table. “That’s the itinerary for the next two weeks. After that, I only have a few minor items on my calendar. We can decide what trouble to get into then. Oh, here’s my cheeseburger. You’re a saint, Alejandro.”

He definitely takes care of the people around him, I thought while Pierce dug into his second burger. I can see why everyone loves him so much.

30

Melinda

Flying on a private plane was a lot more luxurious than a private helicopter. And that was saying something. I pressed my face against the glass and watched the clouds drift by beneath me, then turned back to the couch I was relaxing on. I was used to flying commercial, crammed into seats like Vienna sausages. On a private plane, I had so much room to walk around!

“Oh, it’s not mine,” Pierce told me when I asked about it. “I just rent it whenever I need a ride. I prefer to travel on the Bellerophon.”

“How modest of you,” I teased.

Pierce glared at me playfully, then went back to typing on his laptop.

We landed at Nice Côte d’Azur Airport, which was fifteen kilometers outside the city. Then we took private cars into Monaco—we needed two vehicles to fit the four of us, plus Linda the head of security and an extra bodyguard.

“No helicopter?” I asked. “Wow, we really are slumming it this trip.”

Pierce smiled smugly. “Get your jokes in now. You won’t think we’re slumming it when we arrive.”

He was right. We were staying in a private apartment overlooking the start and finish of the Monaco Grand Prix. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of fans milling around below us during the pre-race events. And beyond that was the picturesque Monaco Hercules Harbour, which was currently filled with yachts of every size and cost.

“It’s too bad this was a last-minute trip, or we could have sailed the Bellerophon here,” Pierce told me as we enjoyed the view. The warm Mediterranean breeze ruffled his hair. “It’s on the way, but won’t arrive for several more days.”

“Too bad,” I agreed. “You know, when I first signed the contract, I thought it was ridiculously arrogant to name your ship the Bellerophon.”

He blinked in confusion at me. “Arrogant?”

“Bellerophon was a hero in Greek mythology. He was a slayer of monsters. I thought you were just another cocky tech-bro for naming your ship after him.”

Pierce chuckled and shook his head. “That’s not what it means.”

“I looked it up!” I argued. “Don’t make me pull up Wikipedia.”

“I’m not disputing that.” He turned to face me, leaning on the concrete railing. “But the HMS Bellerophon was also the name of the ship where Napoleon surrendered to the English in 1815. I chose that name for my yacht as a reminder that all great men can fall. That a man cannot simply coast along with his past victories. Every time I set foot on my ship, I think about how it will become a prison if I get complacent in life.”

Someone in the apartment called for Pierce, and he excused himself to go speak to them. I watched him go and thought about what he had said. A quick search of my phone confirmed everything. I felt embarrassed for assuming the worst.

He’s not like the other billionaires, I thought. He’s nothing like what I expected.

While we waited for the race to start, I called my mom and told her where I was. “I’m not joking! Yes, the famous one. I’ll send you a photo.”

“I guess that makes up for missing the wedding shower.”

I winced. I had forgotten that was this weekend. “I know I’m missing a lot. But I’ll be there for the wedding. That’s what matters most.”

“Don’t tell me,” Mom replied. “You should call Carly and let her know. I think she’s upset you haven’t talked to her more.”

“I just called her last week and she didn’t say anything. Communication is a two-way street, you know. She’s welcome to voice her concerns to me at any time.”

“If you say so.”

“Mom, I don’t want a guilt trip. Right now I’m on an actual trip, an amazing one, and I’m having a great time. I want you to be happy for me.”

“Your father and I are happy for you,” she said. “We just don’t want you to miss out on things that matter.”

“I’ll call Carly after the race and clear the air. It will be fine. I have to go, the race is about to start.”

Tristan leaned over the concrete railing to gaze down below. “I have never been this close to a start before. How exciting!”

“It’s really cool,” I said.

Tristan glanced at his watch, then looked over at me. “I wanted to let you know, I took the liberty to research your former partners at New England Digital Marketing. Robert Ethier and Robert Beschloss.”

“The Bobs?” I asked. “What about them?”

“Their marketing company is currently afloat, but only just. Out of curiosity, I had some of my contacts put feelers out about their willingness to sell. I am told they are not opposed to it.”

“Sell? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well,” Tristan smiled, “Pierce owns a holding company that has its fingers in quite a few pies, so to speak. A soft drink distributor in Poland. Luxury GPS watches in Japan. Even things as mundane as a wholesale bread manufacturer in Florida. We would instruct this holding company to purchase New England Digital Marketing from them, at a favorable price depending on external pressures we could bring to bear on them. Once purchased, we would oust the two from their positions and install you as the head of the company. It would right a wrong, and become a useful tool in the holding company’s toolbox.”

“You would do that?” I asked.

He shrugged. “The decision would be up to you and Pierce. But I have done the preliminary research and primed the market. It was an interesting exercise.”

“That would be amazing,” I admitted. Ideas of revenge began running through my head. “Thank you for doing that, Tristan.”

He put his arm around me and gave me a side-hug. “It was a pleasure. The Count of Monte Cristo is my favorite novel, so I love a good revenge plot. And from everything I have learned about the two Bobs, they’re a pair of cunts.”

I laughed. “Truer words were never spoken.”

“Here we go!” Tristan said, pointing. “One minute to start.”

I didn’t know much about Formula One, but apparently there were three days of races. We had arrived on the third day, which was when the main race occurred. The twenty cars lined up at their starting positions below us. Tristan was grinning more than I had ever seen; he was like a child who was seeing a puppy for the first time.

“The start of the Monaco Grand Prix is typically chaotic,” he explained excitedly. “We are in a perfect position to witness any crashes in the first turn.”

The engines all revved up, and then the race began to a roar of cheers. The cars were so much louder than I expected; they were like jet engines, the sound echoing off the old city buildings and making it difficult to carry a conversation when they zoomed by after the first lap. I wasn’t very interested in this kind of sport, but I had to admit: it was thrilling being so close to the action.

“It’s good to be back,” Pierce said, putting an arm around me.

“Technically, you’re not back. We’re in Europe now,” I teased.

“I meant back with you. Two weeks away on my race was far too long.”

“Agreed.”

The race was 78 laps. For a while, we drank fancy cocktails from the bar inside the apartment—there was a dedicated bartender, of course, and a buffet of food as well, but we didn’t want to leave the action. The balcony overlooking the course was higher than all the other apartments around, which meant nobody could look down on us. Pierce appreciated the privacy, I assumed.

Somewhere around lap 65, Pierce’s hand slid down and cupped my ass.

“Wow, that’s awfully presumptuous of you,” I said.

“Is it?” He gave it a healthy squeeze. “I bring you here, to the most famous race in the world, and you won’t even let me cop a feel?”

Pleasantly buzzed, I slid in front of him and ground my ass back against his crotch. The concrete balcony was chest-high, preventing any other spectators from seeing us.

“Don’t mind me,” I said. “Just trying to get a better view.” I leaned over the balcony a little, bending forward.

“Careful,” he rumbled. “If you start my engine, you’d better be prepared to drive it to the finish line.”

I giggled. “That was a really cheesy metaphor.”

“Cheesy, yet accurate.”

The bodyguards were inside; the only other people on the balcony with us were Tristan and Andrew. I drove my hips back again, rolling my ass up and down the front of Pierce’s crotch. His cock was impossible to ignore, long and stiff inside his pants.

“What’s the matter?” I asked over my shoulder innocently. “Is this distracting you from the race?”

“I’m a man of many talents. I can multitask.” I heard the metallic grind of a zipper, and then he pulled the back of my dress up. I sucked in my breath as I felt his cock pushing against my ass from behind.

I twisted to look at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Why not?” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Nobody can see us.”

I sighed as his tip pressed forward, pushing against my panties. The thin fabric was the only thing keeping him from filling me, so I reached underneath my dress and pulled them aside, making sure to drag my fingernails along the underside of his cock. “What are you waiting for?” I demanded.

Grinning, Pierce drove into me. I let out a small yelp of pleasure, but two cars zoomed by on the street below and drowned out my sound. Andrew was watching though, smiling at the sight.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, reaching forward to squeeze one of my breasts through the dress. “Just enjoying the view.”

Pierce leaned forward until he was looking over my shoulder at the race. “It’s taking all of my willpower not to ravage you right now,” he said, moving slowly.

His breath in my ear drove me wild, and I had to close my eyes. This angle was intense. “We could go into the bedroom.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Pierce fucked me slowly while we watched the race. I gripped the concrete balcony railing with both hands, trying to keep my composure. We were in public. There were hundreds of fans on all the balconies around us, although they were on lower levels and couldn’t see anything below my chest. But they would still know what was happening if I closed my eyes and screamed with pleasure.

But having Pierce inside of me in public was just as intoxicating as the vodka in my drink. Especially while Andrew pinched a nipple through my dress without ever taking his eyes from the race. Pierce’s thrusts picked up speed, but were still much slower than what I wanted. Than what I needed.

“Rub her clit,” Pierce instructed. “I want to feel her come on my cock.”

Andrew’s hand left my breast and went down between my legs, dipping into the panties and finding my clitoris. Fiery pleasure spread through my body at his touch, enough that I shuddered and had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. I came within seconds, Andrew grinning lustily as he drank in the sight of my ecstasy. Pierce was right behind me, literally and figuratively; he let out a long exhale into my ear as his hard length gushed inside me. He pushed forward, crushing me against the railing, like he was trying to come as deep inside my pussy as possible.

“Your turn,” he said, clapping Andrew on the shoulder. “Don’t waste any time.”

“Yes sir,” Andrew replied, taking his place behind me. I was drenched from my own juices and from Pierce’s come, and Andrew slid into me with wonderful ease.

“That is a compelling sight,” Tristan said, now noticing what we were doing. “I do not know which should capture my attention—that, or the race.”

“Why not both?” Pierce said as he zipped himself up. “You’ll get your turn when Andrew’s done, if you’re up for it.”

Tristan smiled at me, and then at Pierce. “I think I can be accommodating.”

Andrew leaned forward and breathed, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Isn’t she?” Pierce agreed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and kissing me roughly. He let go, then took over rubbing my clit where Andrew had before.

It took all of my concentration to hold back my screams as I came a second time—especially when Tristan pawed my breast, pinching my nipple with just enough pain to heighten all the wonderful things the other two were doing to me. I clamped my pussy around Andrew’s length and clenched my eyes shut, savoring the sound of the cars zooming by and the roar of the crowd’s cheers. And then Andrew was shuddering with his own sweet release, burying his face into my hair and letting out a symphony of moans.

“The race is almost over,” Pierce said. “Only two laps remaining. Better hurry, Tristan.”

“With pleasure.”

Andrew slid out of me, and then Tristan was filling me without hesitation. I was still coming down from my last climax, and Tristan felt so good after the first two. I pushed my hips back against him as he thrust forward, meeting him halfway while trying to seem like I was only watching the race below.

“Your cunt is exquisite,” Tristan whispered to me. “As always.”

I let out a moan, thankful that it was drowned out by the cars below.

“Final lap,” Pierce warned as the speakers below announced it for the crowds. “Can you beat Verstappen to the finish line?”

“I shall try my best.” Tristan was gripping my hips with both hands now, not bothering to hide the fact that he was fucking me from behind. Every eye was on the race though, allowing our naughty act to remain hidden in plain sight.

“Leclerc is gaining!” Andrew hissed. “He’s going to try to pass him in the next turn.”

Tristan was breathing heavily as the two racers made the last turn and shot forward into the straightaway. The cheers of the spectators rose to a crescendo, and so did mine and Tristan’s moans. His fingertips dug into my skin and just as the two cars crossed the finish line and the checkered flag was waved, he spasmed inside of me.

“Leclerc beat Verstappen by a meter!” Andrew shouted. “Ferrari took the win!”

“At present, I cannot bring myself to care,” Tristan said, resting his face against my shoulder. “I do believe that was the best Formula One race I have ever witnessed.”

“It’s my favorite for sure,” Andrew agreed, leaning in to kiss me.

Pierce pulled my head around to the other side to kiss me next. His eyes were lidded from the sex, but still vibrant with energy. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

31

Pierce

I loved having Melinda as mine.

I was walking through a medieval museum in Paris that was hosting tonight’s fashion show, with Melinda clinging to my arm. It had been almost two months since we had started sleeping together, and even longer since she signed the contract. I was as attracted to her now as I was when we first met. Maybe even more so, considering how she looked in the red evening gown with the plunging neckline.

Originally, this was supposed to be a temporary situation. Sign a contract, knock her up, and then we would both go our separate ways.

But now I was rethinking that. And it went beyond the insatiable lust I had for her. When Melinda smiled at me, I felt something twist in my chest, behind my sternum. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her throughout the day. When we were apart, no matter how brief, I felt like I was missing something. I had never experienced this kind of emotion in the past.

Was I really developing feelings for this woman?

She grinned up at me. “What are you thinking about so hard?”

“Just how beautiful you are. Those rubies are stunning around your neck.”

“You’ve given me so much jewelry lately, it’s easy to match them to outfits.” Still holding onto my arm, she elbowed me in the ribs. “You look dashing in that tuxedo. We should go find a private balcony and get really dirty.”

“Naughty girl,” I replied. “There are too many paparazzi here. Someone would catch us.”

“That danger is what makes it fun. Just like Monaco.”

It was tempting. Melinda had a way of making me want to throw caution aside and give in to my most basic desires. But I knew it was a bad idea. The press had already snapped photos of us at the Grand Prix—at the beginning of the race, while we were still acting innocent—and now the internet was full of rumors about the beautiful blonde woman who was always at Pierce Benning’s side. There would be even more attention here at the fashion show.

That didn’t stop me from fantasizing about it, though.

“Two minutes until the show begins,” Andrew told us. He paused to adjust my bow tie a few millimeters. He turned to Melinda. “You’re in the front row, so be careful when you cross and uncross your legs.”

“I guess being Pierce Benning’s date has some drawbacks,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll do my best.”

“We will be in the side room, watching on the television screens,” Tristan added. Like Andrew, he was wearing a tuxedo to the event, despite being part of the entourage rather than an invited guest. “I shall endeavor to interrogate MacKenzie Scott’s personal assistant about her mystery event in Hong Kong later this year.”

“You’re welcome to relax and enjoy yourself,” I reminded him. “You don’t always need to be thinking about business.”

“Thinking about business is enjoyable to me,” he replied with an offended tone.

“Have fun in there.” Andrew lightly touched Melinda on the arm. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Melinda laughed and said, “That’s nice of you to say, even though we’re surrounded by supermodels and plastic trophy wives.”

“You make them all look like hot garbage.” Andrew looked like he wanted to kiss her goodbye, but wisely resisted.

“He’s right, you know,” I said as we walked into the main room. “You belong here more than anyone. None of them can compare to you. Remember that for the next hour. Act like it.”

Melinda blushed, then stood up a little straighter.

It was just like any other fashion show I had been to: a long runway, raised off the ground, ran down the middle of the long room. Chairs were arranged on both sides of it. Our seats were in the front row, down near the end where the models would pose before turning around. Cameras snapped and heads turned to watch as we took our seats. The woman sitting next to me gave me a long, seductive smile. Her date, a man old enough to be her grandfather, didn’t seem to notice.

As the show began, I realized that’s why I was so attracted to Melinda. Ever since I had become wealthy and famous, women had basically thrown themselves at me. But it wasn’t me they were attracted to: it was the idea of me. My fame and money. That kind of attraction was as real as the woman’s too-perky breasts. Like anything else fake in life, it didn’t last.

Melinda, however, had been skeptical of me from the beginning. She actively resisted me for weeks after discovering who I was. It took time to win her over. And when I finally did woo her, it was with my own charm and personality. It had nothing to do with all the bullshit superficial stuff.

I haven’t had a relationship this genuine since high school, I thought as the first model posed at the end of the runway, then turned around and began strutting back. That’s why I can’t get enough of her.

I wondered if it would last.

We made an appearance at the cocktail party after the show, then returned to our room at the Ritz Paris. My suite was fit for a king, but I ignored the amenities and immediately pounced on my gorgeous would-be surrogate. I was hungry for her after spending three hours fantasizing about what I wanted to do to her in that dress, and couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Don’t leave,” I told Andrew and Tristan as they lingered by the door. “You two are going to warm her up for me.”

Melinda raised an eyebrow at me. “They are?”

I backed away and sat in one of the chairs by the window, facing the bed. “I want to watch first.”

I watched hungrily as the other two men descended on Melinda like a pair of wolves. They passed her back and forth, kissing and touching and rubbing. Then she dropped to her knees and began sucking them off, alternating between them.

When they pushed her onto the bed and tried undressing her, I said, “No. Keep the dress on.”

They did as they were told, hiking the dress up and yanking down Melinda’s lace panties. Andrew pushed her onto her hands and knees, fucking her doggy style while she gave Tristan a blowjob. I considered making an Eiffel Tower joke since we were in Paris, but didn’t want to spoil the mood. I was already incredibly turned-on, so I unzipped my pants and began jacking off slowly to the sight of the three of them.

Strangely enough, my emotional attachment to Melinda didn’t make me jealous. If anything, it heightened my lust for her. It was like watching porn, but live. Porn that I was going to get to participate in.

The suspense made it that much hotter. Denying myself what I wanted, drawing it out.

After they had switched places twice, when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I rose from the chair and removed my own clothes. Slowly, making Melinda watch while the other two men continued having their way with her.

When I was nude, I finally climbed onto the bed. I replaced Andrew behind her, filling her pussy from behind. Melinda arched her back and gazed over her shoulder at me, drunk with pleasure. I put a hand on the back of her head and pushed her back onto Tristan’s cock.

“Nobody said you could stop,” I scolded while driving into her. “There you go. Fill that pretty mouth.”

She moaned in agreement around Tristan’s hard length.

I didn’t last long. Not after watching and fantasizing about this for twenty minutes. I slammed my cock into her faster, chasing that heightened ecstasy that was filling my body from the toes upward, and finally unloaded inside of her. I pulled her ass toward me, giving Melinda every inch of me as she accepted my seed.

“Hurry,” I commanded the other two. “Fill her like I did.”

Tristan rolled her onto her back and sank between her legs. I bent over and kissed her with tongue, the two of us moaning together as Tristan began to come. Andrew was there, waiting, so I grabbed his arm and pulled him down toward Melinda’s face. She accepted his cock, stroking him rapidly while sucking on the tip as Tristan finished depositing his load into her swollen pussy.

“I’m coming,” Andrew gritted out. “I’m…”

Tristan got out of the way, but Andrew wasn’t quick enough. The first rope of his come shot across the rubies ringing Melinda’s neck, and the second landed on her thigh as he scrambled between her legs. He let out a long groan as he buried his dick into her, his stiff length pulsing as the rest of his come found its way home.

“I’m sorry,” he said, falling backwards onto the bed, chest heaving. “She felt so good, and it came on so quickly…”

“I know exactly how you feel,” I said, laughing. “Most of it hit the target. I won’t be firing you any time soon.”

“Whew,” he replied. “Thank God.”

“I, for one, believe our bonuses should be adjusted,” Tristan announced. He was lounging back on the cushions, smiling lazily. “Accordingly, I deserve Andrew’s full apportionment.”

“You deserve to fuck off,” Andrew replied.

The four of us laughed. I bent down and kissed Melinda softly.

“I can’t believe I’m getting paid for this,” she said, rolling over and stretching out.

Her dress was still hiked up, and I gave her bare ass a smack. “Worth every penny.”

32

Melinda

Pierce and I woke up the next day and went for a light jog through Paris. Nobody recognized him in the early hours of the morning, especially since Linda and the other bodyguard were keeping their distance ahead and behind us on our route.

The Bellerophon arrived in Europe a day later. We flew down to Barcelona to board it, and were greeted with warm smiles and hugs from many of the crew. They were happy to see us—and Pierce especially. After what I had seen from the billionaire, I knew their warmth was genuine.

We spent the next two months sailing all over the Mediterranean. The first week we visited Marseille and Rome. After that was Capri and Palermo. We turned north into the Adriatic Sea and stayed three nights in Dubrovnik, which I recognized from the show Game of Thrones. After that was a full week hopping around Greek islands.

I had grown used to a life of luxury, being waited on everywhere we went and when we were aboard the Bellerophon. I didn’t let it go to my head—on the contrary, Pierce’s down-to-earth attitude and the way his crew loved him made it easy to feel like they were part of our group, rather than paid servants who were supposed to be there. It was the opposite of how I imagined billionaires living.

It’s because of Pierce, I thought while watching him swim in the blue waters off Capri. It would be different with anyone else.

We made it a habit of jogging together every time we stopped in port. It was a great way to see a city, and it allowed him to be out in public as a regular person. Especially when we snuck out without telling Linda and the other bodyguard. She scolded us when we returned, telling stories of kidnappings and ransoms, but Pierce only smiled, put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and told her everything would be fine.

We had sex all along the way. Lots of sex. Pierce and I slept together almost every night, but we paired up in different combinations, depending on everyone’s mood. Sometimes Andrew joined in, or Tristan, or both. There was a three-day period where Pierce and Andrew flew to Geneva for a conference, so Tristan and I spent the time alone having hot one-on-one sex. I had grown to appreciate all three men, their similarities and their differences.

And sleeping with Andrew and Tristan made me appreciate the time Pierce and I spent alone together. If anything, it heightened the sexual chemistry between me and the billionaire. It was like we were on a honeymoon; we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

Everything seemed perfect, except for one small fact: I hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. My period came for a second time since signing the contract, then a third. Pierce shrugged when I told him each time, but I could sense that it was beginning to concern him underneath the surface.

Sure, we were having fun. But the core purpose of the contract hadn’t been fulfilled yet. We could extend the contract for another six months if we needed, which would be fun… but I hadn’t thought that would be needed. And I was sure Pierce thought the same.

No use worrying about something I can’t control, I told myself.

One afternoon, while sunbathing on the sun deck while the Bellerophon was in dock, I finally got around to calling my sister. “The big event is getting close! How’s the planning going?”

My sister Carly let out one of her signature groans. “Planning is fine, everything is lined up. Except for the florist being unable to tell the difference between yellow and gold, but I’ve set her straight. Honestly, Mom is the biggest problem right now.”

“Causing drama?”

“So much drama!” Carly exclaimed. “I swear, it’s like she’s searching for ways to complicate my life. You should see the texts I get from her. I wish you were here to help defuse all of the crazy.”

I barked a laugh. “I’ve never been able to defuse Mom’s crazy. You were always better at it than me.”

“You would be able to distract her. Something. The way it is right now, you’re out of sight traveling the world, which leaves me to take the brunt of it!”

“I know, I’m not a great Maid of Honor,” I admitted. “Do you forgive me?”

“Only because I know you’re making a metric buttload of money as a surrogate. Where are you right now, anyway? Mom said you were in Greece last time you spoke?”

“Tripoli right now,” I replied.

“Oh my God. I don’t even know where that is, but it sounds exotic. Where else have you been since we talked last?”

“Greece, Croatia, Italy…” I winced at how extravagant it sounded. “Bouncing around. Kind of like a Carnival Cruise in the Mediterranean.”

She groaned. “You’re making my Hawaii honeymoon look boring by comparison.”

“Hawaii is amazing! So much more interesting than these cities.”

“So does this mean you’re not going to be home for the dress fittings next weekend?”

“I… will miss that, yes,” I reluctantly admitted. I had been putting it off.

“Is there going to be an issue because of your pregnancy?”

“Well, I haven’t gotten pregnant yet,” I said.

There was a pause on the line. “Did the first round of IVF not take? I know that happens sometimes. I assumed you would have done a second round by now. How many of your eggs did they harvest?”

“The first round didn’t take, no. We’re exploring some other options before the, um, second round. But hey! The silver lining is that it means I’ll fit into my dress without any complications.”

“You still have to get fitted, though.”

“That’s no problem. I’ll have Andrew contact the store and give them an address to ship the dress. We should be back in Rome for a week while Pierce handles some meetings, so that would be the perfect time to get the alterations done. I’m sure there are amazing alteration experts in Italy.”

If the mention of Italian seamstresses surprised Carly, she didn’t show it. “Andrew? Who’s that?”

“Pierce’s valet.”

“You mean valet?” she asked, pronouncing it with the soft-T sound.

“Hah, no! When you pronounce it valet, it means a manservant. I made the same mistake when I first met him.”

“Oh, okay. The way you talked about him made it seem like he was more than that.” I started to think of an excuse, but then Carly went on. “Speaking of the wedding, are you going to have a plus one? You never RSVP’d, and we’re trying to nail down the seating chart.”

I glanced to my right, through the doorway leading to the Bellerophon’s bar. Pierce was leaning on the bartop, chatting with the bartender. “I’ll call you back in, like, five minutes with an answer.”

I hung up and got up from the chair on the sun deck. This was a subject I had been avoiding. Attending my sister’s wedding was a top priority for me, but I didn’t know how Pierce would take it. I would need to leave for a few days, which might clash with whatever plans he had. He’d enjoyed having me on his arm at all these special events lately, and my absence might raise some questions in the tabloid industry.

Pierce smiled when I joined him. “I’ll never get sick of that sight.”

“And I’ll never get sick of the way you watch me.” I kissed him on the cheek. “There’s something I need to bring up. Next month is my sister’s wedding. I mentioned it way back when we signed the contract, but we never firmed up the dates…”

“It’s on the schedule,” Pierce replied. “Next month, we’re sailing back across the Atlantic. We’re spending two nights outside Boston because of a conference I need to attend, then sailing down to Rhode Island for the wedding. Haven’t you checked the spreadsheet?”

“I still haven’t even opened it,” I admitted. “I actually like not knowing where we’re going each day, and it drives Tristan crazy. But that’s great!” My relief was palpable.

“The venue is on the beach. Hopefully the weather is perfect,” Pierce said.

“About that. I actually have a plus-one. I was wondering…”

“You’d better take me,” Pierce said with a smile. “I blocked off my calendar for the day so I could be your date.”

I perked up. “Really?”

He nodded. “You’ve been my date to all of these boring events. It’s only fair I return the favor. Besides, I’d love to meet your family.”

“They would love to meet you too!” I said.

“After all, it’s their genes that will be in my heir as much as yours,” he explained. “I’d like to see how they’re holding up.”

I thought he was serious, until he grinned. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“But seriously, I’d love to go. As long as you don’t mind me embarrassing you on the dance floor.”

“Why do you say that? You’re a good dancer!”

“Exactly,” he said, pointing at me. “I’ll make you look like an amateur by comparison.”

I jabbed him in the chest with my finger. “We’ll see about that.”

He cupped my cheek and kissed me, then gave my ass a squeeze as I walked back to the pool. Carly picked up on the second ring.

“Actually, I’m bringing a date after all,” I said. “And I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

33

Melinda

Like the previous month, the next month was a whirlwind of travel and activities. We eventually docked in Rome and remained there for two weeks while Pierce and Tristan took care of some business; apparently their holding company was looking into purchasing some shoe factories near Milan. While they did that, Andrew accompanied me to have alterations done on my dress.

“I can’t wait to see you in it,” he said. “You’re going to be beautiful.”

I grinned and kissed him, then felt a moment of sadness. It was a shame I had only one date to the wedding. I had grown so used to doing things with all three of them, that it almost felt strange to leave Andrew and Tristan behind.

Once the business in Rome was completed—they chose not to purchase the shoe company—we sailed home to America. The journey took just under two weeks. After hopping around Europe, going from city to city, I had to admit it was nice to relax on the Bellerophon with nothing on the agenda. I had to laugh at that—I never expected to get sick of traveling the world.

I did miss home, though. Since I hadn’t returned to Providence, the Bellerophon had come to feel like my home, so staying on it without any excursions onto land was like recharging my batteries.

We stayed in Boston for two days while Pierce handled some more business. We even went to a Red Sox game, staying in the private suite of John Henry, one of the owners.

After taking a selfie in the suite—with John Henry and his wife in the background—I sent the photo to my dad, who was a life-long Red Sox fan. When he asked how I had managed to sneak into the owner’s suite, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I still hadn’t told my family who I was the surrogate for; all they knew was that it was someone wealthy enough to take me around the world on his business travels.

Which brought up an issue I had been avoiding: what to do about the wedding. When we got there, someone would certainly recognize Pierce Benning. And even if they didn’t, the truth would come out after Pierce spent thirty seconds being interrogated by my dad.

Another problem was how to act with Pierce. Since he was my date, I couldn’t act like I was only his surrogate and nothing more. Not without the two of us pretending like we were just friends all night. I wasn’t sure I could even go a whole night without any displays of affection; we were still acting like honeymooners, too comfortable to fake anything else.

We left Boston and began sailing down to Rhode Island, the place where all of this began. It felt like a lifetime ago that I had gotten into my car to meet the people I would be surrogate for. It was a strange feeling, nostalgic and sad all at the same time. I wondered about that as I fell asleep next to Pierce.

When I woke up the next morning, the Bellerophon was stationary. That meant we had arrived. Pierce walked into the room with a cup of coffee in one hand and a towel in the other, drying off the sweat from his hair after his morning workout.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said.

“Is it coffee?” I asked.

“I have that, but it’s not the surprise.” He handed me the cup. “Take your time. It’s not going anywhere.”

It was impossible to take my time knowing I had a surprise waiting for me. I got dressed and hurried onto the sun deck. The sun still hadn’t rose, and everything was peaceful in the twilight hours of the morning. I expected us to be anchored in the mouth of the Providence River, with the city splayed out to our north. Instead, there was only a strip of land to the east.

“Where are we?” I asked.

Andrew handed me a pair of binoculars. “Over there.” I aimed them where he pointed.

I saw a secluded beach, with an open field and several resort-like buildings inland. On the edge of the beach, half a dozen workers were erecting a tent. Nearby, two more workers were unfolding white chairs and arranging them around an altar.

“That’s the venue!” I said. “That’s where my sister is getting married today!”

“I thought you might enjoy being right here,” Pierce said. “Especially since we didn’t arrive until the day-of.”

Being here, within sight of the venue, suddenly made everything more real. My sister, my only sibling, was getting married today. Tears welled in my eyes.

“Shit,” Pierce said. “I didn’t expect you to cry.”

“I’m just happy,” I said, hugging him. “I can’t wait to celebrate with Carly.”

“And I can’t wait to meet her,” he said.

I sniffled some more. That only reminded me of the problem I had been avoiding.

Pierce had another surprise for me: he’d flown in a hair and makeup specialist from Boston. She worked wonders on my hair, and I kept grinning at myself in the mirror. Especially once I put on the dress! It was a deep cobalt blue, and unlike most bridesmaid dresses, I loved how I looked in it.

I saw Pierce in the mirror, watching me from the doorway. He was wearing a tuxedo, and smiling. “What?” I asked.

“You look stunning. But there’s something missing.”

I hesitated. “What? Is the hair too much?”

“The hair is exactly right. But this will really complete the look.” He revealed a black felt jewelry box that he had been holding behind his back. He opened the lid, and I gasped. There was a festoon-style necklace, with three thumb-sized sapphires surrounded with chains of diamonds. The necklace was accompanied by a pair of matching earrings with even larger teardrop-cut sapphires.

“Oh my God,” I breathed. “Pierce, you’ve outdone yourself…”

“There’s no price I wouldn’t pay to make sure you look as stunning as you deserve,” he replied, putting down the box and holding up the necklace. I pulled my hair up so he could put the necklace on me. I did the earrings myself, then admired myself in the mirror. The festoon necklace hung down perfectly into my cleavage, as if it had been designed with the dress in mind. Knowing Pierce, it probably had been.

“This must have cost a fortune,” I said. “I’ll wear it tonight, but after that…”

“You can’t give it back,” he said firmly. “There is no other woman on the planet who could wear this. Even if there was, I wouldn’t want them to. It’s yours, Melinda, now and forever.”

I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Thank you. I should say you’re looking as dashing as James Bond yourself. Especially with the pocket square that matches my dress.”

“I got it from Zegna while we were in Rome.”

“Zegna? I didn’t realize they had that brand in Europe. I always see it in Neiman Marcus.”

Pierce smirked down at me. “I meant Gildo Zegna, the tailor. He and his cousin Paolo made this specially for me.”

“Oh.” I shook my head; of course Pierce would know the actual man behind the brand. “You would look handsome even in an off-the-rack suit.”

“That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me.” He kissed me. “And I’ve been complimented by a lot of people.”

“I’m sure you have.” I kissed him again, this time longer than before. His arms folded around me, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss. It felt like this was going somewhere, and I almost let it.

Then I pulled back. “I don’t want my hair to get messed up in bed.”

“I wasn’t planning on laying you down.” He grinned and squeezed my ass.

“Still though.” I gave him another quick kiss on the lips. “You can wait until after the wedding. I promise to make it up to you.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Intrigued. Say more things.”

“You’ll just have to wait until then.” I tapped him on the nose. “I need to finish my makeup. I specifically waited to put lipstick on because I knew you might come in here and take advantage of me.”

“Me? Never.” He gave my ass a smack through the dress, then walked away.

Yeah, I thought. He would definitely look just as good even in a cheap suit.

34

Melinda

I was afraid that the wind would mess up my flawless hair, but fortunately the air was still when I walked up to the helicopter pad. Andrew and Tristan were passing the binoculars back and forth, gazing toward the beach where the wedding was being held.

“They’re all set up,” Andrew said.

I let out a happy giggle. “It’s such a perfect day! The sun is shining, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. My sister is going to be so happy.”

“Perfect indeed.” Tristan swung the binoculars at me. “Oh my goodness.”

I pulled the binoculars down and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, careful not to mess up my lipstick. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Here is an actual compliment: you’ve never been more beautiful,” Andrew said. “And that is a high bar, since you’re gorgeous all the time.”

“I must agree with my friend here. Your beauty could start a war, like Helen of Troy.”

“Hopefully nothing that dramatic, but thank you anyways.”

I hugged both of them and said goodbye. It was strange having three men in my life who I cared so deeply about, and who cared about me. We were in that weird place where they weren’t my boyfriends, but they were something. There just wasn’t a word for it. And it wasn’t only physical. I had grown fond of both of them, almost as much as I had grown fond of Pierce.

I can’t worry about that now, I thought. My sister is getting married today!

Linda and three bodyguards joined us in the helicopter. “There’s been some chatter about Pierce’s location here. I want to make sure we aren’t caught unprepared. Don’t worry—we’ll stay out of sight. You won’t know we’re there.”

I turned to Pierce. “I have a question. About how to present this relationship to my family.” It was awkward having this conversation while Linda and three guards were in the helicopter with us, but I couldn’t avoid it any longer. “What should we tell them?”

“I don’t think we can pretend that you are only my surrogate,” he admitted. “We have been photographed together in other contexts. People will put it together, if they haven’t already.”

“I can assure you my parents have not put it together. They don’t pay attention to European tabloids.”

Pierce cocked his head thoughtfully. “Do you want them to know you and I are… together?”

Together. That was one way to put it. I still had concerns about how long this relationship would last, and what would happen when I eventually did bear his child. But for now, I was with Pierce Benning. All of him.

“Yes,” I said. “I do want them to know.”

Pierce smiled. “Then let’s tell them. We don’t need to give specifics—especially not regarding the natural conception. We can just say that we’ve grown fond of each other since you became my surrogate, and that we’re dating. That’s more-or-less the truth.”

I smiled back at him. “I like that.” I looked out the window. We were about to cross over from water to land. “Are we driving to the wedding after landing?”

“We found a spot to land closer. We’ll be able to walk.”

“Not too far, I hope. I’m already wearing my heels.”

“If it’s too far for you to walk, I’ll carry you. Or have Linda carry you.”

“Whatever you need, sir,” Linda said loyally.

“He’s joking. But thanks, Linda.”

Linda, as serious as a heart attack, nodded.

We circled once over the wedding venue, seeing the five buildings of the resort. All of it was reserved for Carly and the wedding today. Then we landed in a field about a hundred yards from the outdoor venue. I was grinning from ear to ear as we stepped out; it was a fun entrance to make, yet it wouldn’t cause too much commotion since the guests weren’t arriving for another two hours.

Pierce didn’t need to carry me, fortunately. A woman in a pink dress and a clipboard frowned at us as we approached, her eyes scanning the two of us, and Linda and the bodyguards.

“I’m Melinda, the bride’s sister,” I said.

She made a check on her clipboard. “Right on time. The bridal party is waiting in the Spring Building. It’s just over that way.” Her eyes flicked at Pierce. “No men are allowed in there during hair and makeup.”

“I see some groomsmen over there. I’ll go mingle.” Pierce kissed me lightly on the cheek. “See you in a little while.”

“You’re the wedding planner?” Linda asked. “I have some questions about the perimeter…”

My mother squealed happily when I walked into the atrium of the Spring Building and gave me a big hug. There were four other women along with Carly, all still wearing cotton robes. I said hi to the two other bridesmaids I knew, then hugged my sister.

“It’s your big day!” I said, tears welling in my eyes again. “I can’t believe you’re getting married today!”

“Me neither!” My sister had a similar build as me, except her hair was curly where mine was straight. She also had darker eyes, which scanned me up and down. “You’ve already had your hair done?”

“Pierce had a stylist brought in for me.”

“That’s Pierce Benning?” one of the bridesmaids asked. “The billionaire?”

“We saw the yacht out on the water and looked it up,” another one said.

I guess the cat is out of the bag. “That’s Pierce Benning, yes. He hired me to be his surrogate. And… we’re kind of dating.”

“He’s your plus one?” Carly asked, surprised.

Two women hurried over to us. One of them said, “You’re the maid of honor? You’re already done.” She turned to Carly. “She’s already done.”

“I didn’t know she would have her own stylist,” Carly muttered.

“It’s fine! Less work for you to do. I’ll make sure you’re still compensated, it’s not a problem.”

“Your hair…” the second woman said.

“I had it done up! Just like Carly told me. Right, Carly?”

“Yes, but… I suppose it’s fine.” The stylist turned around. “Ashley. You’re up.”

I sat down with Mom and Carly while they had their makeup done. For a little while, we were all giggles and smiles and tears as we talked about Carly’s big day. It was so good to catch up with them after being away for months.

The other bridesmaids didn’t seem happy, though. I caught one of them glaring at me when she thought I wasn’t looking. What was their problem?

They’re probably jealous of Pierce. Not my problem.

A little while later, the wedding planner popped in and whispered something to Carly. “You have bodyguards?”

“Pierce does. Only four of them. I promise they won’t be in the way at all.”

“Bodyguards? Seriously?”

“It’s just a precaution. Trust me, they’re great at blending in. We hardly noticed them when we were in Milan.”

“Oh wow, Milan,” one of the bridesmaids said. “Thank goodness they blended in, or it would ruin the immersion.”

It almost sounded like she was making fun of me. But before I could say anything back, the wedding planner stepped up to me. “The father of the bride wants to say hi to you. I told him he’s not allowed in here.”

“Oh, right! I forgot to say hi to Dad!”

I hurried outside, where my father was chatting with none other than Pierce. “There’s my girl,” Dad said, wrapping me in a big hug and squeezing me tightly. “I’ve missed you so much, pumpkin.”

“Me too. Dad, that tux looks so good on you!” I glanced at Pierce. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

“Actually,” he said, becoming serious, “Pierce and I have already met.”

I waited for his reaction.

“I didn’t know Pierce Benning is the one you’re a surrogate for! We’ve been talking about college basketball. He’s a Dartmouth man, just like my uncle. I told him our loyalties lie with Brown these days, since that’s your alma mater.” He elbowed Pierce in the ribs. “But I can always be convinced to switch allegiances again!”

“Dartmouth’s winning the Ivy League next year,” Pierce insisted. “Get on board now, before March Madness begins. Brown will be lucky to finish ahead of Pennsylvania.”

“Apparently, Pierce knows the athletic director,” my dad bragged. “He called him five minutes ago and let me talk to him! Nice guy!”

“I made a donation two years ago. If you’re ever back on campus, pay a visit to the Benning Sports Medicine Building.” His phone rang. “I’ll be right back.” He walked off to answer the phone.

Dad grinned at me. “Can you believe that guy? Why didn’t you tell me you two were seeing each other?”

Covering my surprise, I said, “Oh, I didn’t want it to be a big deal.”

“Aren’t you worried about a conflict of interest?” he asked. “Being his surrogate, and then having his baby…”

“It’s fine,” I replied. “We didn’t mean for it to happen. It just… sort of did. We’re trying not to take it too seriously. But it won’t get in the way of the surrogacy, I can promise you that.”

“As long as you’re sure, I trust you.” He stepped back and took me in. “Pumpkin. You’re beautiful. That jewelry…”

“It’s fake,” I quickly said.

“I was going to say it fits your dress wonderfully.” He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. “I don’t know how a man like me wound up with two amazing daughters, but I know I’m lucky.”

I gave him another hug. “I’ve missed you, dad.”

“I’ve missed you too. But it makes me happy to know that you’ve been with a man like that.” He nodded toward Pierce, who was still on the phone.

“Does that mean you like him?”

“Like him? I love him! Maybe we’ll be having your wedding this time next year. Hopefully he’ll pay for it.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “This one is already cleaning me out, and your sister has been a bit of a bridezilla with some of the vendors.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said, laughing nervously.

“Come on,” he said, sniffling. “Let’s go get some champagne.”

35

Melinda

It was so refreshing being around my family again, even if Carly was too distracted to talk much. It was also a strange combination of worlds—seeing my parents talking and laughing with Pierce was surreal.

The fact that they liked my billionaire boyfriend—if that was even an accurate way to describe him—was more relieving than I ever expected it to be. I cared deeply about them liking Pierce, because I liked him. Their acceptance was a reflection of my own way of falling for Pierce. It made it all feel genuine, rather than a superficial attraction to a man with lots of money.

I thought about that as the ceremony began. The other bridesmaids walked down the aisle first, then it was my turn. I drew every eye, but it was Pierce’s gaze and smile in the fourth row that I cared the most about. I couldn’t help but smile myself, blushing more from his intense stare than from everyone else that was gathered.

When Carly walked down the aisle, escorted by my father, I instantly began tearing up. I sniffled and tried not to distract too much, though Carly kept glancing over at me until she reached the altar. My little sister was getting married!

The ceremony itself was beautiful, and I was a mess of emotions. Maybe I’m pregnant after all, I hoped. Weddings usually didn’t have this effect on me.

Carly seemed like she was in a strange mood while we took photographs. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but she was off. I started worrying that she was already having second thoughts about getting married. Mom had told me Carly and Landon had been bickering about the wedding planning.

“Pierce!” my father shouted during the family photo. “Get in here.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary…” I said.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Pierce added. “You’re all so beautiful, I wouldn’t fit in.”

“Nonsense! You’re Mel’s date, so you need to be in the photos.”

“We have a specific photo schedule,” my sister hissed.

“It’s one photo. It won’t hurt anything,” Dad insisted.

Pierce awkwardly joined us, standing on the outside next to me. I was actually kind of glad that Dad was including him; I wanted a photo of us, regardless of what happened when the contract was over.

“Is everything all right?” I asked her after the photos.

“I’m fine,” she replied curtly.

I decided not to let it bother me. If she wanted to be in a weird funk about the wedding, then I couldn’t control that.

During the reception, Dad stood up to make a welcome speech. “You know, the greatest hope a father has is that his daughters will find happiness,” he said to the tentful of guests. “There are a lot of jerks out there—I know, because Carly’s mother dated a few of them before finding me!”

He paused as everyone laughed.

“Which is why I’m so thrilled that both of my daughters have found partners who make them happy. First Landon, and now Pierce, Mel’s date.” He gestured to where we were sitting. “I mean, having a man like Pierce in the family? I bet he’d be able to get seats at the Patriots game that are a little closer to the field than the upper deck!” A few people laughed. “Just teasing you, Landon. I loved the game you took me to for my birthday, even if the Pats lost by two touchdowns. It was the rare case where being far from the field was a good thing!”

The groomsmen roared with laughter and teased Landon, who pretended like he was going to throw a dinner roll at them. It was all good-natured, but Carly didn’t look happy. She hated football.

The first dance was beautiful, and I shed a few more tears. There were a lot more photographers at the wedding than I expected; they were shooting the happy couple from all angles.

After eating, the DJ started playing music and encouraged everyone to get on the dance floor. Nobody wanted to be the first ones up there, though.

Finally, Pierce stood up and extended a hand. “May I have this dance?”

“I suppose so,” I said. “Somebody needs to get the party started!”

Pierce put a hand on my hip and guided me in a salsa-like dance that matched the fast music. I could keep up, but just barely. Everything was perfect—my sister had gotten married, and my parents were happier than I had ever seen them, and I had the most wonderful date at the wedding. I didn’t even care that people were staring at us. If anything, I liked the attention. We looked good together.

And eventually, our dancing encouraged others to join us on the floor. I nodded to myself—that’s what a good big sister did.

We had been dancing for half an hour when Pierce’s phone rang. “I thought you put it on Do Not Disturb?” I asked.

“I did,” Pierce said grimly. “The only ones who are exempt are Andrew and Tristan…”

We stopped dancing as he answered the phone. He made a face, said okay several times, then hung up.

“What is it?”

Pierce closed his eyes and sighed. “I hate to do this, but I have to leave. There’s an emergency at one of our holding companies, and it’s time sensitive.”

“No! Really?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Does this have to do with your next big business venture?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t an emergency,” he told me. “You know that, right?”

“I know. But we were having so much fun!”

He cupped my cheek and kissed me. Off to the side of the tent, one of the photographers appeared and snapped a bunch of photos.

“I’ll make it up to you.” Pierce gazed deeply into my eyes. “I promise, Melinda.”

Sighing, I said, “You’d better.”

“I’ll send the helicopter back for you.” He gave me another quick kiss, then walked out of the tent. Linda and the bodyguards formed up on him, and the last thing I heard was him telling her that plans had changed.

I went back to the bridesmaid table to retrieve my glass of champagne, then went to see my parents. They were making the rounds among the tables, thanking the guests for coming and catching up with family friends who had flown in from out of town.

“Where’s Pierce?” Dad asked me. “I was just telling Stephen about him.”

“Excited to meet him, Mel!” Stephen said.

“He had to leave. A business emergency.”

Dad looked crestfallen. “No!”

“I’m sure that man’s time is very valuable,” Mom said. “We’re lucky he could stay as long as he did.”

Suddenly, the sound of the helicopter taking off drowned out the DJ’s music. Everyone stopped dancing to watch it rise into the air, hook around the resort, and head out to the speck of light that was the Bellerophon out on the water.

Carly came storming over to me with her new husband at her side. “Seriously, Mel? In the middle of the fucking reception?”

“Pierce had an emergency,” I said. “He wouldn’t have left if it wasn’t important.”

“Oh, okay,” Carly said sarcastically. “As long as it’s an emergency, it’s okay that he ruined my wedding day.”

I flinched like I had been smacked. “Ruined your wedding day? Carly, you’re being dramatic.”

“That was uncalled for,” Dad told her. “Carly, what has gotten into you?”

She pointed her finger at me. “Mel’s selfishness is what has gotten into me!”

Next to her, Landon crossed his arms and nodded in agreement with his new wife.

“Selfish? How have I been selfish?” I demanded.

“You haven’t been around for any of the wedding planning. I’ve needed my big sister, and you’ve been gone.”

“You know I didn’t want to miss any of it. It has broken my heart to be gone for the past few months…”

“What about the bachelorette party last night? You missed that, too!”

“We didn’t arrive until this morning. Pierce had work in Boston last night.”

“In the Red Sox owner’s suite. We know, because you sent us photos on the family chat,” Carly said. “I’m really glad you missed the bachelorette party for that. Which Ashley had to plan since you’ve been absent.”

I realized Ashley was standing to the left, glaring at me and nodding along.

Carly pointed out to the water. “Then you park that hideous yacht right off the coast, where everyone can see. It’s the only thing anyone has been talking about since they arrived.”

“You can barely see it…” I argued, but Carly was steamrolling over me.

“Not to mention when you did show up your hair and makeup was already done, even though you agreed to get it done with us.”

“I told the stylist I would still pay for it!”

“And look at all that jewelry!” Ashley said. “It probably cost more than this wedding. You overshadowed the bride. You looked like a chandelier standing next to Carly. A crying chandelier.”

I rounded on her. “I was emotional! My little sister was getting married.”

“The crying wasn’t the problem!” Carly jumped back in. “Then there was the speech Dad made. He went on and on about Pierce.”

Dad’s mouth fell open. “Oh, pumpkin…”

“I can’t help it if Dad likes my date!” I said.

“He was supposed to be talking about me and Landon! Instead, he made fun of my new husband and gushed about Pierce Benning the wonderful billionaire that everyone loves. Why did you have to ruin today?”

“You think I ruined your wedding? You’re overreacting, Carly…”

“Oh! And Pierce’s wedding gift!” Carly held up a check. “He gave us ten thousand dollars for our honeymoon. And he put the check in the same bowl with all the other gifts. Landon’s parents were the ones who first saw it, and it made them feel awful for not giving enough.”

“So now you’re complaining because he’s generous?”

Carly turned and walked over to the edge of the tent, where a photographer was holding up a camera. She snatched the camera away and tossed it out of the tent. The photographer started shouting, but Carly ignored her and walked back to us.

“And those paparazzi have been scurrying around in everyone’s way. They shouldn’t even be here, but every time we try to chase them off, they reappear!”

I stared in shock. “I thought those were your wedding photographers.”

“You thought I would have five photographers? Hah! I’m going to be on the fucking cover of TMZ tomorrow.”

“Is that why the wedding planner mentioned us being over capacity?” Dad suddenly asked. “She said we went over our guest limit, and will be charged extra from the venue…”

“No,” Carly shook her head. “We’re over capacity because her date brought five bodyguards. That caused us to go over the limit before the paparazzi even showed up.”

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what the extra cost is, but I’ll make sure to cover it.”

“Oh yeah, throw money at the problem,” Carly muttered. “That’s the new solution to everything, huh?”

“I know it’s your wedding day, but you’re overreacting,” I told my sister.

Carly barked a laugh. “That’s the worst part: you don’t even realize what you’re doing. You’ve made everything about you, but your head is shoved so far up your ass you don’t even know it! You’ve changed in the last few months, Mel. And not for the better.” She crossed her arms. “If you do end up having that billionaire’s child, it’ll be a shame. I’d hate for my biological nephew to grow up to be a spoiled rich brat.”

I had taken her onslaught of complaints up to that point, but mentioning my future child was a step too far. I pointed a finger at my sister and growled, “Dad’s right. You are a bridezilla.”

She whirled toward our father and exclaimed, “You said what?”

“I didn’t… I don’t mean…” Dad stammered.

Carly burst into tears and went running off, with Landon close behind her. Ashley and the other bridesmaids gave me parting glares and then followed.

The music had stopped, and everyone at the reception was staring. I couldn’t tell how long they had been listening, but it must have been long enough. That’s when I saw the night with a new perspective. The other guests had been looking at me all night. Eying my jewelry, and the billionaire date that I had brought. Pierce and I getting up and dancing first, making Carly’s first dance look amateurish by comparison. Dad’s speech. The paparazzi swarming around the outskirts. The helicopter’s distracting exit. The fact that I was blind to it all.

Carly was right. I had changed, and not for the better.

Barely able to hold my own tears off, I ran out of the tent and into the night.

36

Andrew

“It’s your move,” I told Tristan.

“I am quite aware.”

We stared at the chess board in the study for another minute.

“I’m just saying, we’re going to use the timer next round if you’re going to take this long.”

Tristan grunted in annoyance, then moved his knight forward. I captured it with my own knight. “Check.”

“Hmm. You’ve split my king and queen.”

“Because after thinking about it for five minutes, you made a really bad move. Are you sure you’re all right? You usually crush me at chess.”

Tristan leaned back in the chair and sighed heavily. “I am not all right. I am distracted.”

“By Melinda?”

He scowled at me. “I am not so lighthearted as that. I am preoccupied with concerns about Pierce’s next business idea. The breadth of investors he has pulled into the conversation is concerning.”

“Too few?”

“Too many,” he replied. “And from too many different industries. I am afraid he is thinking too big, whatever his idea is.”

“I’m sure he has it figured out. He always does.” I leaned back in my chair and considered Tristan. “Well, I’m distracted by Melinda.”

“Of course you are. She is a beautiful woman, and has never looked as stunning as she did tonight.”

“I think I’m in love with her.”

Now Tristan showed surprise. “Love?”

“I know we all agreed that it would remain physical only,” I said. “But I can’t help it. I’ve spent too much time with her. She’s…”

She was everything. Beautiful, smart, witty. She was stubborn in all the right ways. I had been falling in love with her before we jumped into bed together. And since then, our sexual relationship had only strengthened those emotions, like warm cotton surrounded by steel.

“She’s special. I can’t stop thinking about her.” I chuckled. “I think I’m going insane.”

Tristan moved his king. “How unfortunate.”

I captured his queen, then slammed the piece down angrily on the table. “You feel the same way about her. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You are mistaken.”

I jabbed a finger in his direction. “You’re the most enthusiastic participant of all of us.”

“I quite enjoy lovemaking. I fail to see what that has to do with emotions of the heart.”

“Bullshit. I know you, Tristan. I know you as well as I know Pierce, and you’re falling in love with Melinda too. I’ve seen the way you look at her. It’s the same way I look at her—the same way Pierce does. Hell, it’s the same way you used to look at that golf pro you dated three years ago. The one you were smitten over.”

“Smitten is a harsh word.”

“You’re happy,” I reiterated. “Happier than you’ve ever been in your life. And it’s because of Melinda.”

I held his gaze for three long seconds. He stared right back at me, defiant. I wasn’t going to get him to crack.

Then his shoulders slumped a fraction of an inch. “Very well. I have complicated feelings for Melinda.”

“There’s nothing complicated about it. You’re in love with her. Or you’re falling in love with her. Either way, straightforward.”

He didn’t acknowledge it, but he didn’t argue, either. That felt as close to an admission as I was going to get.

“We have to tell Pierce. He needs to know.”

“Why?” Tristan asked. “Why can we not enjoy this while it lasts? There are two more months remaining on her contract, and given her lack of pregnancy progress, it is likely she will be extending the contract for an additional six months.”

“Because I don’t want to wait until the end of the contract to have my heart ripped out!” I said, raising my voice. “You can do what you want, but I care too much about Melinda to let it bumble along like this without telling her how I feel.”

“And what of Pierce?” Tristan shot at me. “If he disapproves?”

That had been my biggest concern up to this point. We had all agreed that our contributions to Melinda’s conception would be physical only. We hadn’t discussed emotions… and it was clear Pierce cared deeply about her. How would he feel about his valet falling in love with her as well?

“If he disapproves,” I said, “then I’ll quit.”

Tristan flinched. “You would not.”

“I would,” I repeated. “If Pierce disapproves, then being around Melinda would be too much for me. I would have to leave. And deep down, I think you feel the same way.”

We had sent the bartender to bed, so Tristan got up and went to the bar to fix himself another drink. He returned, sat down, and took a long pull from his glass. Then a second pull.

“I have spent a great deal of time these past few weeks considering fatherhood.”

“Fatherhood?”

“I have never cared much for the idea of being a father,” he explained. “Yet now that it is a distinct possibility, I am reluctant to have agreed to this arrangement. Being a potential donor. Working and living alongside Pierce, around a child that is biologically mine… I do not know if I could stand it.” He swirled his drink around in contemplation. “If the child is mine, biologically, I would want to know them. And more importantly, I would want them to know me. For who I am. Not simply as Pierce Benning’s personal assistant.” He shuddered. “The thought bothers me more than I care to admit.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

“I did not realize I felt this way until recently,” he admitted. “Perhaps I have been avoiding the subject myself.”

“Then what do we do?” I asked.

Tristan’s phone rang. He set down his glass and began pacing. That was a bad sign. When he hung up, he gave me a tortured look.

“I need to call Pierce.”

“He said he didn’t want to be disturbed unless it was an emergency.”

“Unfortunately, I believe this qualifies,” Tristan muttered. “The Costa Rican president is pushing the issue of a potential investment. If Pierce does not give him reassurances about utilizing his country for his new business plans, then the president is going to proactively announce a partnership.”

“But there is no partnership,” I said. “Not yet.”

“The president believes that if he makes an address tomorrow morning, he can back Pierce into a corner and force their cooperation together.”

“That’s a dumb assumption.”

“Historically, the stupidity of an idea has rarely stopped it from being seized upon,” Tristan said philosophically. He downed the rest of his drink. “I am calling Pierce.”

Once Pierce was notified, we abandoned our game and got to work. I prepared an espresso and a plate of refreshments for Pierce; he always worked best with fresh caffeine in his system, and it might be needed to counteract any alcohol he’d drank at the wedding. Tristan spent his time pacing in the study.

We heard the helicopter land on deck. Pierce and Linda came striding into the study thirty seconds later. “This had better be important,” he said, gulping down the espresso and allowing me to remove his tuxedo jacket.

“I have the conference call prepared here,” Tristan said, gesturing to the laptop.

“That son of a bitch has gotten too friendly with us,” Pierce growled as he sat down. “He’s vastly overestimated the value of his country’s role in my plans.”

Tristan cleared his throat. “Perhaps if I was made aware of your plans, I could better stave off the impatience of men such as him.”

Pierce gave him a look. “Now’s not the time, Tristan.”

“Of course,” he replied. “My apologies.”

While he got on a call with the president of Costa Rica, Tristan and I sat nearby and waited. “We have to tell him,” I said.

“His mood would suggest otherwise.”

“Then tomorrow,” I said. “But soon. It’s eating me up, Tristan. I have to get it out, even if he’s upset about it.”

Tristan grumbled something I couldn’t understand.

Pierce was on the call for half an hour. When he finally closed the laptop, he grabbed the nearby espresso cup and smashed it on the ground.

“Self-aggrandizing fucker,” he growled. “Trying to force my hand tonight of all nights. All I wanted was to impress Melinda’s family, and that third-rate world leader pulled me away. Now her family is going to think I’m just another…”

He trailed off and looked down at the mess he’d made. He sighed, then knelt and began picking up pieces of porcelain one by one.

“No,” he said when I tried to help. “I can clean up my own messes. Sorry I let my temper get the best of me.”

“Honestly, you showed admirable restraint,” I said. “I would’ve smashed the laptop against the desk.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He dumped the cup pieces into the trash, then grabbed a towel from the bar and wiped up the coffee. “It’s probably too late to return to the wedding. I don’t want to cause more of a scene by making the helicopter return to pick me up again.”

“I am sorry I could not delay him myself,” Tristan said. “He was quite insistent, unfortunately.”

“Not your fault. You did the right thing by calling.”

“It was an enjoyable time?” Tristan asked. “The wedding?”

“We were having an amazing time,” he replied wistfully. He smiled with his whole face, eyes softening just so. “I was going to tell her I loved her. The moment was right.”

I shared a look with Tristan. “That’s wonderful, Pierce. I thought you were beginning to fall for her.”

“Head over heels.” He laughed. “I’ve felt like myself these past few months more than I have my entire life.”

I shared another look with Tristan. He shook his head slightly, but I wasn’t going to be deterred. “Pierce, we need to talk to you.”

“Oh? About what?”

Before I could say anything, we heard the familiar sound of helicopter rotors. Pierce went to the window and drew back the curtain. “I didn’t expect her to return for a few more hours. She wanted to stay up late with her parents.”

We went out to meet her by the helicopter pad. As soon as she stepped off, it was immediately obvious that something was wrong. Her mascara was smeared, and tears were still carving lines through the makeup on her cheeks.

“You’re back early,” Pierce said. “What’s wrong?”

When he tried to embrace her, she shook him off. “I had a fight with my sister.”

“Oh, no. About what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I just want to be alone.” She hurried past us below deck, leaving only the scent of her perfume behind.

“What do you suppose that was about?” Tristan asked.

“I don’t know, but I have my suspicions.” He pinched his nose and sighed. “What did the two of you want to talk to me about?”

“Maybe it can wait…” I began to say.

“I’m all out of patience tonight, Andrew,” Pierce said. “You’ve both been my closest friends for as long as I can remember, and one thing I value about our friendship is that you’ve never been reluctant to speak your mind. Do so now, please.”

Tristan glanced at me. I took a deep breath.

And then we told him.

37

Melinda

I felt like a teenager running to her room and slamming the door. It was made much worse by the fact that I had spent so much time staying in Pierce’s room that my actual room on the Bellerophon didn’t feel like mine anymore.

I ran through the time I had spent since signing the contract.

Almost two weeks on the yacht.

A month on the private island.

More months touring around Europe.

Then another few weeks on the yacht.

I had changed over that time. It had happened so subtly that I didn’t realize it. When I first joined him, I’d spent so much time judging Pierce for living lavishly that I hadn’t worried about what would happen to me after living in these conditions for so long.

Carly was right. I’ve been blind this entire time.

The guilt washed over me in waves, and I cried some more. Guilt for spending time away from my family. For missing all of Carly’s milestones leading up to the wedding. For my behavior at the wedding itself. In a flash of anger, I started to rip off the priceless necklace so I could throw it overboard. That would have been silly, so I stopped myself and calmly removed it and placed it on my nightstand instead. Then, for good measure, I threw it in the drawer so it was out of sight.

Pierce was an amazing man. But I shouldn’t have brought him to the wedding. I should have introduced him to my family another time. When it wouldn’t have upstaged the bride.

A soft knock came at the door. It was Pierce. “Melinda. Can I come in?”

“I just want to be alone,” I replied.

“I can respect that.” A long pause. “Was it something I did?”

“No,” I replied. It was the truth—none of this was Pierce’s fault. It was mine. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. But it’s nothing you did.”

“Okay. I… I’m sorry for whatever happened. I’ll be here when you want to talk, whether that’s tonight, tomorrow, or a week from now.”

I didn’t hear his footsteps leave down the hall. After a few seconds, I gave in and ran to the door, throwing it open, desperate for the reassuring presence of him—

But he was gone. The hallway was empty.

I woke up the next morning to a flurry of texts. The first was from my dad:

Dad: I’m sorry for Carly’s outburst last night. Your mother and I calmed her down. I hope you two can talk about this with cooler heads today.

Another was from Mom:

Mom: I warned you it was a bad idea to become that man’s surrogate. I don’t care how handsome and charming and wealthy he is. None of this would have happened if you had stayed home with your family.

Then there was a text from Carly, which was sent this morning:

Carly: Landon and I are at the airport. The paparazzi are here taking photographs of us while we go through security! Some of them are on our flight. I’m SO excited to have them pestering us during our honeymoon. Thank you SO MUCH for doing this to me. You’re the BEST sister in the world.

Carly: In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

I groaned, then Googled Pierce Benning’s name—just like I had done the first time I arrived on the Bellerophon. But when I switched to the News tab, I was confronted with my worst nightmare.

A photograph of me.

The link led to a tabloid article about the wedding, with the headline: “PIERCE’S PRESUMPTIVE PARTNER PINNED AT PICKFORD WEDDING PARTY.” There were dozens of photos of us at the wedding, including several paragraphs describing who I was. It was strange having your entire life, your entire essence as a person, boiled down to a few lines of copy.

Even worse than that were paragraphs detailing Carly, Landon, and our parents. It reminded me of the world’s fervor when Kate Middleton became engaged to Prince William.

It’s because we don’t have princes in America. We have billionaires instead. They’re our royalty.

I skimmed the Google search. There were dozens of similar articles from other tabloids, and even a few mainstream media sites had picked up the story. There was also a Wall Street Journal article speculating that our relationship had to do with Pierce’s big mystery project, and that Landon’s family—who did business in real estate—were involved.

I cringed thinking of Landon’s poor family waking up and being inundated with reporters and cameras.

I was already guilty to the point of bursting, and this made everything worse. Never in my wildest dreams—or nightmares—did I expect all of them to get roped into my drama. For a moment, all of it swirled around in my head: the mystery business, the European trips, the cameras and interviews and countless other stories about the child I would eventually bear for Pierce. It felt like a hurricane, building strength and threatening to blow me away.

I don’t feel like myself. And that’s the worst part of all of this.

That’s when I came to a decision. A decision that felt right the more I thought about it.

38

Pierce

I sat down in the study of the Bellerophon with Andrew and Tristan. They had been speaking for five minutes, alternating between them. Pouring out their hearts to me. Tristan seemed almost reluctant to tell me all of this, but I could tell his words were genuine.

“Wow,” I said. “I had no idea you felt this way.”

“Originally, I had no interest in becoming a father,” Tristan said. “I believe I still feel that way. However, if I were to biologically produce one, and one which would be in close proximity to me throughout its life… well, I am quite certain I would struggle with that scenario.”

“I’m sorry for roping you into this situation without allowing you the time to process how you felt,” I said.

Tristan shook his head. “It is my fault for not considering my own emotions. You have always steered me on the right course, so I never doubted you for a moment. But perhaps I should have this time.”

“I have no qualms about fatherhood,” Andrew chimed in. “But Melinda… I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s always on my mind. I think she’s the one, Pierce. And I don’t say that lightly.

The one. A concept I had always been skeptical of. There were billions of women on the planet; it was likely that I was compatible with thousands of them. Millions, even.

But now that Melinda was in my life? Our lives? I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. It really felt like she was my soulmate.

“If this is a problem, I understand,” Tristan said curtly. “I will tender my resignation.”

Andrew didn’t say anything else, but he nodded.

I couldn’t imagine losing either of them. That was as impossible as losing Melinda. Which made my decision even easier.

“I don’t want this to end,” I said. “Sharing Melinda… it works. I think it will keep working, long-term. If she is willing to continue that way, then so am I. We can find a way to make it work.”

“You mean that?” Andrew asked. “You won’t change your mind once there’s a baby and decide you want her all to yourself?”

It was my turn to shake my head. “I love both of you like brothers. More than brothers, because we choose to be friends and colleagues. I won’t allow a woman to come between us. Fortunately, it doesn’t have to. Let’s keep doing what we’re doing, for as long as we’re all happy. That’s what matters the most.”

“I’m in love with her,” Andrew said. He chuckled and added, “Wow, it feels good to say that out loud.”

“I do believe I am also falling in love with this woman,” Tristan admitted carefully.

Love. It was a subject I had been debating extensively lately, and now I knew the answer in my heart. I was hopelessly, desperately in love with Melinda Norris. I couldn’t imagine not being in love with her.

“I love her too.” I blinked a few times. “I just realized that I’ve never told a woman that before.”

“Quite the milestone,” Tristan replied. “But fitting for a woman of Melinda’s calibre.”

The three of us smiled at each other and let the moment sink in. We were all in love with the same woman. And we were stronger for it.

“Now,” Tristan said, “we simply need to discern why Melinda returned in such a hurry.”

“Something clearly happened at the wedding,” I speculated. “Maybe she came to the same realization: that she’s developed feelings for us.”

“She might be afraid that you’ll toss her aside once she has a baby,” Andrew said.

I felt a thrill in my chest. “Then she should be relieved when we tell her how we feel.”

“Shall we do so now?” Tristan asked.

I shook my head. “When I knocked on her door, she insisted she wanted to be left alone. Let’s give her some space and wait until the morning.”

Even though Melinda wasn’t in bed with me, I was happy and excited when I crawled under the covers. We had wonderful news to share with her in the morning, and I couldn’t wait to see how she reacted.

I went about my routine the next morning: I downed an espresso, spent an hour on the exercise bike, then showered. It was a beautiful morning off the coast of Rhode Island, so I took my breakfast out on the sun deck by the pool. Andrew was already awake, reading a book on one of the chairs. Tristan joined us a few minutes later.

When Melinda finally emerged from her room, she was far less fancy than the last time I had seen her at the wedding: jeans, sneakers, and a loose-fitting T-shirt. She looked beautiful. I definitely love her, I thought. There’s no doubt in my mind.

“Good morning,” Tristan said.

“Morning,” I added. “Before you get comfortable, we have something to tell you.”

She stood at the edge of the sun deck, not coming any closer. “I need to tell you something first.”

I wanted to pour my heart out to her, but I held back. I would let her go first. That made me nervous, more nervous than I was before my first big IPO. My heart was in this woman’s hands. I was vulnerable in a way that I rarely felt.

It was exhilarating.

“When I first signed the contract,” Melinda began, “I was skeptical of you. Rather than meeting me somewhere normal, you sent a helicopter to pick me up to deliver me to your yacht. Then we sailed down to your private island. You were arrogant, and confident. Too confident. I didn’t think any man could possess so much wealth and still remain grounded.

“But I was wrong.” She smiled faintly. “You’re incredible. One of the best men I have ever known. Obviously I didn’t know you when you were younger, but it seems like you’ve done the impossible: you remained yourself despite having all this wealth. You didn’t allow it to change you.”

I smiled, waiting for her to say the words that I knew were coming. That she loved me.

But I was wrong.

“There’s just one problem,” Melinda said. “I’m not that strong.”

I blinked. “Pardon?”

“I’ve allowed all of this,” she gestured at the Bellerophon, “to change me. I’ve been dressing in expensive clothes, and have grown accustomed to having servants bring me whatever I want. I wear jewelry that costs as much as most people’s mortgages. I was oblivious to the way I was acting at the wedding last night, stealing the spotlight from my little sister.”

“You can’t help being beautiful,” I protested.

“No,” she agreed. “But I could have been more aware of it all. And that’s the problem, Pierce: it’s changing me without me realizing it. The changes are small, subtle. It scares me. You’ve been able to stay true to yourself all these years, but I’m terrified that I won’t be able to. Especially as publicity increases surrounding your new business venture, whatever it is.”

I stared at her, speechless. This wasn’t what I had expected at all, and it hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Perhaps this is because you have had too much idle time,” Tristan suggested. “You’re an intelligent woman who needs stimulation. If we acquire New England Digital Marketing…”

“That’s another problem,” she interrupted, suddenly more heated. “I don’t want your company to acquire theirs and put me in charge. I won’t get any satisfaction or stimulation out of that. It feels like cheating. That’s not who I am, and it’s definitely not who I want to be. I want to beat them fair and square.”

“Okay…” I said. “We don’t need to acquire them. That’s not a problem.”

“The problem is that I was going to let you do it!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t even realize how it would make me feel until I had this revelation after the wedding. Because I’ve already changed more than I want to.”

Behind her, two of the Bellerophon’s servants appeared. They were carrying her bags.

“What’s this?” Andrew asked, jumping to his feet.

“I have to go,” Melinda said softly. “It’s the only way to remain myself. I can’t be your surrogate, Pierce.”

And then she walked away, toward the helicopter pad.

“We have to stop her,” Andrew said.

“She is wrong,” Tristan said. “This is a mistake.”

I was too shocked to move. Both of them waited for my guidance.

“Let her go,” I finally said. “If this is what she wants, then it’s for the best.”

They both rounded on me. “How can you say that?” Tristan demanded.

“I’m going after her,” Andrew said.

I grabbed his arm before he could. “I said no. Let her go.”

“She’s making a horrible mistake! We have to tell her how we feel.”

But there was something about what she said that had hit me the hardest. A secret I had been keeping from her… and from my two closest friends and confidants. Before I could go to Melinda, before I could reveal it to the woman I loved, I needed to come clean with Andrew and Tristan.

“I need to tell you something,” I said, sitting back down.

“What could possibly be more important than the woman we all love getting away?” Tristan asked.

“It’s about my next business venture,” I said. “I’m finally going to tell you what it is.”

39

Melinda

I didn’t want to leave. Every fiber of my being was resisting as I turned and walked toward the helicopter. It felt like Pierce, Andrew, and Tristan had a gravitational pull to them, gently tugging me back toward the sun deck.

But I knew I had to do this. I had to get away and clear my head. I had to stay true to who I was.

Even if it meant ripping up the contract and going back to my normal life.

It felt hypocritical to do that when I was boarding a private helicopter while two servants loaded my luggage, but I decided to ignore that for now.

As the rotors spun up, I waited for Pierce and the others to come running after me. That’s what always happened in the movies: they dramatically stopped the heroine from leaving at the last moment. I held my breath, yearning for them to resist my exit.

But nobody came, and the helicopter lifted into the air and turned north toward Providence.

I felt numb as I walked into my apartment. It seemed like a lifetime ago when I was last here. It was clean; Pierce’s people must have been keeping up with it while I was gone. The fridge was empty except for a few bottles of condiments. That felt like a metaphor for my life right now. Hollow except for the superficial things.

It was quiet. I was alone. I hated it.

I got back in my car and drove to my parents’ house. Mom opened the door and did a double take. “Mel? What—”

I threw myself into her arms and started sobbing. She patted me on the back, murmuring reassurances, and let me inside.

For the next half hour, I let it all out. I could barely breathe for all the crying and explaining I was doing. Dad brought me a glass of water, then paced in the other room while trying not to be intrusive.

“You didn’t ruin the wedding,” Mom said. “You just… stood out a little.”

“Don’t try to defend me! I’m terrible!”

“You didn’t have to tell Carly that I called her a bridezilla,” Dad chimed in.

That only made me weep harder. “I know! I’m the worst!”

Dad got on the phone and left the room. Mom continued consoling me.

“I think this is more than just the wedding,” she said after a while. “I think you’re falling in love with Pierce.”

I wiped my eyes and nodded. “I am. And…”

And I miss Tristan and Andrew. Their absence, even for just a few hours, was like a hollow pit in my stomach. I didn’t know how to fill it.

But I couldn’t tell my mom the whole story, so all I said was, “And I wish Pierce had tried to stop me!”

“That would have been the chivalrous thing to do.” She shook her head. “I told you this entire surrogacy thing was a bad idea. Didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Let this be a lesson that your mother does still know what’s best for you.”

Dad returned to the room. “I just got off the phone with Steve. His lake cabin is open for the next week. He said you’re welcome to stay there as long as you want.”

“Why would I want to stay there?” I asked.

Dad shrugged. “You might want to get away. Clear your head. Also, that will give you some privacy in case Pierce tries to beg you to come back.”

“He let me leave,” I said. “Why would he come begging a few days later?”

He shrugged again. “When it comes to matters of the heart, men are rarely logical. If you want the lake cabin, it’s yours. I think it’s a good idea.”

The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right. I wanted to get away—somewhere other than my parents’ house, or my empty apartment.

*

The lake cabin was an hour from Providence, up in Massachusetts. I was expecting a dilapidated shack with a bucket for a toilet, but it was actually a pretty nice A-frame cabin with plenty of natural light and modern fixtures. I had two bars of cell signal here, but the welcome booklet explained that there was no internet. Just satellite television.

A week without internet will be good for me, I thought.

The cabin had a stocked whiskey bar, and I got good and drunk that night while watching reruns of Frasier. Despite being hungover the next morning, I went for a jog on the four-mile trail that circled the lake. That didn’t make me feel any better, but the throbbing headache and burning lungs during the last sprint felt like adequate self-flagellation.

I was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—I didn’t bring much in the way of food—when a car pulled into the driveway. From the kitchen window, I watched my dad get out and come inside.

“I thought I was supposed to have a week of peace and quiet?” I asked, hugging him.

“Peace and quiet is what I’m here to help you with,” he replied. “I’m taking you fishing on the lake.”

“Dad, you know I hate fishing. I appreciate the gesture, but…”

“You need some time on the lake more than anyone right now,” he replied. “Make me one of those sandwiches and put on sunscreen. I’ll meet you at the dock in ten minutes.”

By the time I walked out there, Dad had readied the two-person rowboat. I got inside, and he began rowing us out onto the lake. After a few minutes, I started laughing.

“What’s tickling your funny bone?”

“I was just thinking about how this is the opposite of how I’ve lived the past few months,” I explained. “On a yacht surrounded by servants.”

“I’m sure that was nice, but there’s something to be said for the simple life.” He stopped rowing and opened a cooler, tossing me a beer. “Can’t fish without beer.”

“I’m… not in the mood to drink,” I said.

“Because you’re hungover?” He pointed. “That Miller Lite will fix your head. Both the hangover and your wits.”

I cracked it open and took a long sip while Dad prepped the fishing rods. We each cast our lines in opposite directions, then relaxed as we waited.

“I do all my best thinking while fishing,” Dad explained. “You wouldn’t be here if not for some good fishing time.”

I gave a start. “Really? How’s that?”

“When I was about your age, your mother announced to me that she was ready to have children. This wasn’t a joint decision; she wanted two daughters, and she was going to have them. My participation was optional.” He chuckled. “I’m exaggerating, of course. But still. Your mother was insistent.”

“You weren’t ready for kids?” I had never heard this story before.

He shook his head. “I didn’t think so. I wanted to wait a little longer. We had only been married for a year. Having kids is a big decision, and I didn’t think I should jump into it without being fully committed. So I went fishing for a weekend and gave it a long think.”

“And decided that Mom was right?”

He shook his head. “Hell no! I knew she was rushing things. But I also knew I loved her more than life itself, and I was willing to compromise because of it. Soon after that, you came along. And it changed me. For the better.” He sipped his beer. “Now, Carly on the other hand…”

I laughed. “She was a terror.”

“It’s a good thing she wasn’t the first born, or we never would’ve had a second.” He glanced out at the lake. “But the point is that people change for the ones they love. You shouldn’t change too much, obviously. But everyone changes a little. That’s just life, Mel.”

“We’re not talking about a little change, Dad,” I said gently. “While I was with Pierce, I changed a lot. Wearing expensive clothes and jewelry, going to fashion shows…”

“Those are superficial things,” he replied. “That doesn’t really matter. Not if you stay the same person on the inside. And sure, you’re upset about the wedding and think that you should have realized how you were acting. Maybe you’re right. But the fact that you did realize it, and are so stubborn about staying the same Melinda Norris as always, is a good sign. It means you’re still grounded.”

“Right. Because I’m not with Pierce anymore.”

He shook his head. “Pierce doesn’t have anything to do with it. You’re self-aware, whether you’re with him or sitting on this lake with an old man who likes to ramble.”

I smiled. “You’re not that old.”

He reached into the cooler and tossed me another beer. “That was the right answer. All right, I gave you my spiel. Now let’s enjoy fishing in silence.”

We spent the day on the lake, and after Dad left that evening, I did feel a little better. I still wasn’t sure what I should do, but I did feel more grounded. Like I was myself again.

When I went for a jog again the next day, I wasn’t hungover. I was feeling more fresh than ever, and my mind was already racing with ideas for my new marketing company to compete with the Bobs. Dad was right: some time out on the lake was helping me see clearly again.

It was around mile three when a helicopter passed overhead. I didn’t think much of it because I was in my own head making plans, but then the helicopter flew by again, slower than the first time. I glanced up at it and stopped in my tracks.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said.

40

Melinda

Pierce’s private helicopter hung in the air like a constellation, unmistakable after I had spent so much time on the Bellerophon. Stubbornly, I continued on my jog. The path wound into the forest that circled the lake, but the helicopter slowly followed me.

Three days, I thought. Three days went by before Pierce came begging.

It was impossible to focus with the constant noise above me, so eventually I gave up and pulled out my phone to call Pierce. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find a place to land,” he replied simply. “There are too many trees. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Go home. I don’t want to see you,” I insisted.

“Not going to happen. We’re landing this somewhere, even if we have to crash it into the lake. You might as well help us find a landing spot.”

I covered the receiver, let out a frustrated shriek, then said, “I’m staying at the cabin on the west side of the lake. My car is parked out front. There should be enough room to land on the lawn.”

The helicopter swung out over the lake, and I hung up and finished my run. By the time I arrived at the cabin, the aircraft had landed and Pierce and Linda were standing by the back porch.

“You going to invite us in?” Pierce asked with a smile.

“I don’t want to see you!” I insisted. “How did you even find me? Did my parents tell you where I was?”

Linda cleared her throat. “We enabled tracking on your phone. There’s just enough signal out here to pinpoint your location.”

I gasped. “You’re here to beg for me to come back, and the first thing you do is breach my trust?”

“You agreed to it,” Linda said evenly. “It was in the security addendum you signed on day one.”

“And I’m not here to beg for you to come back,” Pierce said. “But I do want to talk about a few things. Now are you going to invite me in?”

He seemed so certain, so sure that I would let him in. It infuriated me. “No,” I said, and slammed the door on him. The shocked look on his face, and the click of the deadbolt sliding into place, was immensely satisfying.

“Okay, you’ve made your point.”

“Have I? You’re still there,” I replied through the door.

“Let’s talk about this, Melinda.”

“I don’t want to do any talking. I came here to clear my head, which you’re currently inhibiting.”

“Take as much time as you need,” he replied.

“You’re just going to wait?”

“If I have to, sure.”

Caught off guard, my mind raced to think of what to say next. “You’re trespassing. This is private property. If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police.”

I heard his sigh through the door. “Fine.”

Footsteps on the porch, then crunching on the gravel driveway. I peered out the side window: he was walking away. But not toward the helicopter. He was going to the edge of the woods, where the driveway continued on to the main road. There, he lied down on the ground by the side of the road, using his hands behind his head as a pillow.

That was still part of the property, but I wasn’t going to force the issue. Instead, I went to the couch and opened Instagram. If he thought he could wait me out, he was sorely mistaken.

But after a few minutes, I felt my certainty deteriorating. He was here. He was calmly waiting outside. The longer it went on the more I felt like the asshole.

Ten minutes later, I threw open the door. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come inside and talk if you want.”

I poured myself a glass of cold water and gulped it down. By then, he was inside and closing the door behind him. “Want something? I don’t have a private chef or a bartender. If that’s a problem, you’re welcome to return to the Bellerophon.”

“It’s not a problem at all. I like this place. It’s cozy.”

“Why are you here, Pierce?”

“I need to show you something. Is that a smart TV?”

“It’s got a satellite package. Nothing else.”

“That’s fine. I’ll pull it up on my phone. What’s the Wi-Fi password?”

“No internet.”

Pierce stared at me for three seconds. “Wow, you really swung toward the opposite end of the pendulum.”

“I came here for peace and quiet, and you’re currently interrupting both.”

He opened YouTube on his phone, and we sat around waiting for a video to buffer. It took an uncomfortable amount of time. Eventually, he hit play. It was a finance show with a bald host.

“Our guest today is none other than billionaire businessman Pierce Benning,” the host said. “Mr. Benning, it’s a pleasure to have you on the show.”

The camera cut to a suited Pierce, who was smiling from the study of the Bellerophon. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“I’m told you have some important news to share with us,” the host said. “Are we finally going to learn, live on the air, what your next big project entails?”

“It’s about that, yes,” Pierce said.

I paused the video. “I don’t want to know what your next big business idea is. I want to be away from the spotlight, Pierce.”

“Watch the whole video before making your judgment.” He hit play again.

“I’m a lucky man,” Pierce explained to the host. “I consider myself smart, but luck has a lot to do with it. I made two inventions when I was young, and that made me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams. Since then, everyone has whispered about what’s next. I must be working on something amazing.”

“We’ve heard plenty of those rumors ourselves,” the host said. “Everything from artificial intelligence, to manned spaceflight, to nanotechnology…”

“All great areas,” Pierce admitted. “But I’m not involved in any of them.”

“Wow, okay,” the host said. “What is your next big idea then, Mr. Benning?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Pierce said with a warm smile. “My next big business venture…”

There was a pause for dramatic emphasis.

“…doesn’t exist,” Pierce finished.

“WHAT!” I said.

Pierce shushed me and pointed at the video. Suddenly, I wished we were watching it on a screen larger than a phone.

“Excuse me?” the host said. “I’m sorry, but I think I misheard your response…”

“I don’t have a new idea,” Pierce said, showing his hands. “I’ve got nothing.”

“Mr. Benning, I don’t want to argue with you. But we’ve talked to dozens of venture capitalists and investors who claim they have personally discussed this new idea with you.”

Pierce nodded along. “I’ve been lining up funding, this is true. I was hoping I would figure something out along the way. I considered all the industries you just mentioned, but there are already extremely smart people working in those fields. I don’t have any fresh ideas there; I wouldn’t be able to compete. So I’m not going to try.”

The host seemed completely flabbergasted. “Then what are you going to do, Mr. Benning?”

“I’m glad you asked!” He grinned widely. “I don’t want to do anything. I’m done with chasing IPOs and maximizing profits. I’m ready to settle down, start a family, and get out of the spotlight.”

“Get out of the spotlight?” The host laughed nervously. “I don’t know if it’s possible for someone with your amount of wealth to do that.”

“You’re right,” Pierce admitted. “That’s why I’m announcing the elimination of the majority of my estate. Effective this month, I will be liquidating all of my assets and making sizable donations to charities around the world. I will be issuing a press release later this week with the full list of beneficiaries.”

Pierce paused the video. “The rest is boring. The host and I go back and forth a bit, but I don’t say anything else of substance.”

“You’re giving away all your wealth?” I asked. “How can you do that?”

“Not all of it. Ninety-five percent of it. You’d be surprised how well I can live on that remaining five percent.”

I took him by the hand and sat both of us down at the small kitchen table. “Pierce, I appreciate a grand gesture. But I don’t want you to lie to the press and abandon whatever you were working on just for me. Maybe that sounds like a good idea to you right now, but you’ll eventually resent me for it.”

“It’s not a lie,” he said calmly. “It’s the truth. And I’m not doing it for you—at least, not just for you. I’m doing it for me. That’s why I started looking for surrogates: I really am ready to settle down and start a family. I want that to be my focus in life, Melinda.”

“And if you change your mind in a few years?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Then we’ll deal with it then. People change. I’m not the same man I was five years ago. I’m sure you’ve changed, too. It’s part of life.”

I didn’t have a response to that. It was eerily similar to what my dad told me yesterday.

“Everything you said to me the other day made a lot of sense,” he went on. “I completely understand how you feel. The paparazzi, the interviews, the constant attention everywhere I go… I’m sick of it. I want a simpler life.” He gestured around the cabin. “Maybe not this simple. But simpler than I’ve been living.”

“I hate to break it to you, but giving away most of your wealth isn’t going to make the media stop. If anything, they’ll follow you more closely.”

“They will, for the first few weeks,” he admitted. “But then they’ll get bored. They’ll move on to someone more interesting. There are plenty of targets out there. Elon Musk has been going off the rails lately. Bezos and Zuckerberg are always good targets.”

“Pierce,” I said gently. “I don’t know…” I glanced to my left, where Linda was standing guard. She was staring right at me.

“Maybe wait outside?” Pierce asked her.

“Of course, sir.”

When the door had closed, Pierce turned back to me. “Here’s my proposition to you.” He took my hands in his. “Melinda Norris, I love you. I’ve loved you for a while now, but didn’t realize it until the last few days. I want to have a baby with you. I want to have children with you, more than one. Not because we signed a contract, but because it’s what we both want. I want you to be their mother. Their actual mother, not just their biological surrogate. Whatever label you want to attach to our relationship doesn’t matter to me. I want you to be my partner in this. My partner in parenthood, and in whatever life throws at us from this point forward.”

The words washed over me, simultaneously a surprise and yet totally expected. Because deep down, it’s what I had wanted from him for a while now without realizing it. To be more than just the second signature on a legal contract.

I wanted it all.

“You don’t have to decide right now.” Pierce stood up. “I’ll leave and let you think it over—”

I jumped to my feet and kissed him. It took him a moment to react, but then he folded his arms around me and held me close. “Does this mean you agree?”

“I think so,” I said. “Pierce, I love you too.”

The words came easily because it was true. I did love him, but had been afraid to admit it to myself. Now that I knew he felt the same way, I wasn’t scared anymore.

“There’s just one complication,” I said.

“Andrew and Tristan?”

I flinched. “How did you know?”

“Because it’s something I’ve discussed with them. It won’t be a problem.”

I felt a moment of terror at the way he said it. “Pierce, no! You can’t fire them just because you want a future with me. I care about them, too. I…”

Pierce cocked his head. “You love them?”

It felt wrong to say it while I was in his arms, so I pulled away. “Yes. At the very least, I’m falling in love with them every bit as strongly as I am with you. I know that’s not what we agreed to, but I can’t help how I feel. And it will tear my heart into three pieces if you cast them aside just so you can have me all to yourself.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said. Then he raised his voice: “Linda? You can bring them in.”

A few moments later, the two of them walked into the cabin. Andrew with his dress shirt sleeves rolled up and a bashful smile on his face, and Tristan looking as proper as ever in a three-piece suit. The Englishman cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his blond hair, which for him was as much a sign of nervousness as any other man pacing around the room.

“Did you hear any of that?” Pierce asked.

“Any of what?” Andrew asked, frowning.

“We kept a respectable distance from the cabin, for your privacy,” Tristan added.

I glanced at Pierce. He nodded at me. I went over to the two of them and held their hands.

“I love you, Tristan,” I said. “I love you, Andrew. I don’t know when it began, but it’s been building for some time. I can’t deny it any longer.”

I tried to step back, but Andrew followed, his fingers wrapped tightly in mine. “It makes me so happy to hear you say that, Melinda. From the moment I met you on that helicopter, I’ve been entranced by you. Your fire, your intelligence… and yes, even your stubbornness.” He chuckled. “I started falling in love with you from the first time we spoke.”

Tristan stepped up next. “I fear I am unable to adequately put my emotions into words, but I shall endeavor to do so nonetheless. You are the sunrise in my morning, and the moon’s full glow at night. My days are brighter because of you, and my dreams more vibrant. Before you, the world was dull and pale. Now, I can finally see in full color.”

“You’re his Wizard of Oz,” Pierce said behind us. “That’s a hell of a compliment.”

Tristan scowled over my shoulder. “I did not intend it to be compared as such, so I shall thank you to keep your comments to yourself.” He turned his blue-gray eyes back to mine. “We have only known each other a few brief months, and yet I already know that you are my everything. In spite of your lackluster literary opinions. Melinda Norris, I truly love you.”

“Damn,” Andrew muttered. “Way to make me look bad by comparison.”

“Furthermore,” Tristan added.

“Furthermore? What is this, a book report?” Andrew said.

Tristan ignored him and focused on me. “It was wrong of me to suggest acquiring your old company in a hostile takeover. I now see why that would not be a satisfying victory.”

“Like using a cheat code in a videogame,” Pierce offered.

“That solution is unbecoming of a woman of your intelligence and patience. I never should have made the offer.”

There were tears in my eyes. Everything he said, and Andrew too, had been what I needed to hear. My own emotions reflected back to me. For a few seconds, I felt happier than I ever had in my life.

But then reality came crashing back down.

“There’s just one problem,” I said, stepping back again and turning so all three of them were in front of me. “If all three of you love me, and if I feel the same, then there’s no way this could ever work.”

“Why not?” Pierce asked calmly.

“Because…” I searched for a reason. “Because people don’t just do that. Humans are monogamous. They have a soulmate. We don’t split our love…”

“Why not?” Pierce asked again. “We can do whatever we want.”

“If you are happy with the situation, then so are we,” Tristan stated.

“Really? The three of you would…”

“Share you?” Andrew finished for me. “Of course we would. We’ve already been doing that, after all.”

I looked at each man in turn, searching for any doubt. There was none. They were certain.

“Don’t you want to discuss this among yourselves first?” I asked.

Pierce chuckled. “What do you think we spent the past two days doing?”

Shared by three men. It was crazy. I tried imagining telling my parents about it, and the thought made me shiver. But like Andrew said, they had already been sharing me up to this point. Why not continue doing so into the future?

“There’s just one problem,” I said.

“You already said a problem,” Tristan pointed out.

“There’s a second problem,” I corrected. “I’m still not pregnant.”

Pierce shrugged. “Then I guess we’ll just have to keep trying. We’re not in any hurry.”

“I am extremely amenable to trying for as long as it takes,” Tristan said with an uncharacteristic grin.

“But the contract…” I said.

“Fuck the contract,” Pierce said. “We can extend it, or tear it up. It doesn’t matter to me. The only thing I care about is you, Melinda.”

“That’s going to be a problem for me,” I said. “I’m still only in this for the money.”

The three of them all flinched. Pierce’s jaw fell open, and Andrew’s eyes widened. Tristan was the only one who narrowed his eyes skeptically at me.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist the joke,” I said, wiping some tears away. “The money was the reason I signed the contract in the first place, but I’ve found something far more valuable.”

“There’s just one problem,” Pierce said.

“Now you have a problem to add to the pile?” Tristan complained.

Pierce stared at me for a long moment. “Do you want to be a mother? Do you want to start a family? That’s a much different scenario than giving birth and then handing the baby over to me.”

I wasn’t sure. How could anyone be certain about such a big decision? But being with Pierce, Andrew, and Tristan had changed me. I didn’t just want to get pregnant and then leave. I wanted a life with them. And a life involved a family.

I always knew I wanted kids at some point. Why not now?

“I do,” I said. “As long as the father is one of you three, I do want to be a mother.”

Their relief was palpable. Especially Pierce.

“I… I need some food,” I said. “I normally eat right after my run.”

“I’m thrilled to hear you say that,” Pierce said. “About being a mother, I mean. Not the food thing.”

“What are you making?” Tristan asked.

I twisted the top off my jar of peanut butter. “A sandwich.”

“With only peanut butter?” he asked, revolted. “And white bread?”

“It’s good! And cheap.”

Tristan turned to Pierce and crossed his arms. “We need to get her back to the civilized world.”

I took the covered piece of bread and threw it overhand at Tristan. It hit him smack in the chest, leaving a creamy brown smear on his jacket, vest, and tie.

“I regret to inform you that I am retracting my previous statement,” he said dryly. “I no longer have feelings for you.”

The rest of us laughed, and eventually Tristan joined in.

41

Melinda

Liquidating all of Pierce’s assets was a complicated matter. I realized this when a helicopter full of accountants and finance experts arrived on the Bellerophon with briefcases and overnight bags. They set up shop in the study, and were given beds in the spare rooms aboard the yacht. Apparently, they were going to be there a while.

While they worked, we sailed back down to Costa Rica. After being apart for three days, we all wanted to spend more time together. Yes, our relationship was still in that honeymoon phase where we couldn’t get enough of each other. Three days in that cabin by the lake felt like three weeks.

We ate amazing food, and had incredible sex three or four times a day. My libido was insatiable—one man wouldn’t have been able to keep up, but it was much easier with three to see to my sexual needs. And since we were trying to get pregnant, it felt like we were being productive rather than wasting our time in bed.

When the accountants were done, the numbers were staggering. Pierce was keeping around $50 million dollars worth of assets. That number shocked me until I realized it really was about five percent of his wealth. It turned out that a billion dollars was an insane amount of money.

Between that $50 million, and the residuals he would keep earning from his tech patents, it was more than enough to maintain a comfortable lifestyle.

He was keeping the Bellerophon, although the property taxes were significant. He also gave each member of the crew a massive seven-figure bonus. “I know this means I’ll lose a lot of you,” he said while addressing the crew in the dining room, “but I don’t care. I want all of you to be happy, even if that’s somewhere else.”

Funny enough, most of the crew agreed to stay employed. It reminded me of when Andrew once claimed he would keep working for Pierce even if he had enough money to retire. As it turned out, there were greater motivators in life than money. If you took care of your employees, rather than using them like property, they would love you.

The remaining ninety-five percent of Pierce Benning’s estate was to be divided up among over a hundred charities, funds, and foundations. There were large ones, like the American Red Cross and Doctors Without Borders, and smaller ones that I had never heard of. The list of beneficiaries was seventeen pages long. Single-spaced!

When we reached Pierce’s Costa Rican island, Tristan suggested an idea that was so devious I couldn’t help but laugh. I agreed to it immediately.

Pierce flew Robert Ethier and Robert Beschloss, the Bobs, down to the island. They arrived by helicopter in the evening, and were led out onto the terrace overlooking the bay. I waited out of sight, in the kitchen.

“Chocolate?” asked Alejandro, the chef. He held out a chocolate puff truffle on his palm while stirring a pot of soup with the other hand.

“Thanks!” I said, wolfing it down. I was starving.

“Chocolate?” he asked again, holding out a new truffle.

“If you keep doing this, I won’t be able to fit into this pencil skirt.” Despite my protest, I accepted it eagerly.

And then, a few moments later, his palm extended once more. “Chocolate?”

“Alejandro! That’s enough!”

“You try to make baby,” he said in heavily-accented English. “You need food. Calories. Make baby strong, like Mr. Benning.”

“I have to get pregnant first!” I protested.

He shrugged dramatically. “If you don’t tell, I don’t tell!”

Finally, my phone vibrated in my pocket. That was the signal text from Tristan. I left the kitchen and walked out to the edge of the Terrace, where I could overhear the conversation outside.

“We’re flattered you brought us all the way down here,” Bob Beschloss was saying. “Needless to say, we’re ready to sign the paperwork whenever you are.”

“Should we open a bottle of champagne?” Bob Ethier asked.

“Perhaps it is premature to celebrate,” Tristan said.

I could practically hear the Bobs frowning. “What do you mean?” Bob Ethier said.

One of the servants handed me a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. That was my cue. I strode out onto the terrace and said, “There will be celebrating tonight, but I am not sure the two of you want to join in.”

The looks on their faces were priceless. It was like they had seen a ghost in high heels.

“Melinda? What are you…”

“Don’t follow the news, do you?” Pierce asked. “I didn’t think you would accept the offer to fly down here.”

“We know all about your… relationship with our former employee,” Bob Beschloss said. “We assumed that’s why you want to purchase our company. To place her in charge.”

“Seems like a win-win situation,” the other Bob said. “Melinda gets to run the company she helped build, and we get golden parachutes.”

“We never would consider such a thing,” Pierce replied. Tristan shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“That option was appealing, I will admit,” I said while slowly twisting open the wire cage on the bottle. “But we decided on another route.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to put you out of business the old fashioned way.” I made myself smile, but there was no mirth in my lips. “I’m forming my own company to compete with yours. It won’t be hard; I have plenty of practice after building New England Digital Marketing from the ground up. My new company will be like yours in every possible way. We will hit the ground running. But you won’t go out of business immediately. Oh no. It will be slow. You’ll see your market share gradually shrink. Your margins will narrow. Your quarterly earnings will get worse, and worse, and worse. Like a noose around your neck, eventually you won’t be able to breathe. And then, and only then, will you know that you made a mistake by fucking over Melinda Norris.”

The cork on the champagne popped, and bubbles gushed out over my hand. There was genuine humor in my smile now. “Who wants glasses for a toast?”

The Bobs demanded to leave immediately. Pierce, having expected this, obliged them. They were on the helicopter and headed back to San Jose within minutes.

“Daaaamn,” Andrew said while we drank the champagne. “That was cold. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“It was marvelous,” Tristan said, eyes locked onto me with a mischievous glimmer. “If I was not already certain I loved you, I would be now.”

“Can you imagine if we had chosen any other surrogate?” Pierce mused. “I certainly can’t.”

I spent the following week begging Carly to talk to me. When that didn’t work, I reached out to her new husband Landon instead. It was only with his help that we were able to fly the two of them down to Costa Rica.

Carly was furious the moment she stepped off the helicopter. “If I had known we were coming to see you, I wouldn’t have agreed to this!”

Landon grimaced. “I told her we were taking a quick trip down to Costa Rica for work.”

“Lying already. Not a good start to our marriage.” Carly looked around. “So this is the private island you bragged about on my wedding day. I’m surprised you didn’t sell it off with all your other assets. I guess that was just a lie to make yourself look good for the media, huh?”

“I only own the island for another month,” Pierce replied. “After that, it’s being donated to the Dartmouth School of Wildlife Science. We’re also giving out scholarships to students in low-income neighborhoods, and have created a fund to allow them to visit the island and do research for a semester.”

“Woah!” Landon said. “That’s dope.”

“Until then, the island and its mansion are yours,” I explained. “Both of you work remotely, so you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Consider this a make-up honeymoon for having the paparazzi hound you in Hawaii.”

“They really only bothered us on the first day,” Landon said. “After that we never saw them…”

Carly elbowed him in the ribs. “Whose side are you on?”

“There are sides?” he asked. “Carly, this place looks amazing. Way better than Hawaii.”

Carly was unswayed. “Throwing money at us isn’t going to make me forgive you, Mel.”

“I know,” I replied. “I’ll keep working on regaining your trust. But hopefully this is a good start.”

Alejandro walked out onto the helicopter pad. “Buenos tardes. I’m pleased to inform you of tonight’s menu. Our main course will be a wagyu filet with a rosemary-burgundy sauce, fluffed potatoes, and a selection of wild vegetables harvested from the island.”

The bartender was right behind him with a tray of champagne flutes. “Welcome. We have a wide selection of wines for your stay, which I will be pairing with each evening’s meals. Mr. Benning has also opened up his private whiskey collection for tastings at your leisure.”

Carly took a glass and sipped. “Okay. Maybe this is a good start. Thanks, Mel.”

That evening, we departed on the Bellerophon for the return trip to Providence. We didn’t mind having the backup chef on board; the dinner he cooked was still phenomenal.

“Are you sad to leave the island for the final time?” I asked as we stood on the sun deck, watching the lights from the mansion dwindle in the distance.

“A little,” Pierce admitted. “It doesn’t have to be the last time, though. We can come visit whenever we want.”

“But your mansion will be filled with undergraduates,” I pointed out.

He shrugged. “That’s what will make the visit fun. Seeing the island put to good use. That’s more satisfying than laying around the pool drinking wine all day.”

“Ehh, I’m going to disagree with you there. Drinking wine by the pool all day is extremely satisfying.”

He put his arm around me. “Good thing I have a floating mansion that can go anywhere in the world, huh?”

“I suppose this little boat is a suitable replacement.”

“Little boat? Take that back.”

“Uh oh.” I turned to face my lover. “Sensitive about the size, are we?”

“This thing is massive,” he said in a husky voice. “I don’t think you can handle just how big it is.”

“I’m not impressed,” I replied.

“Challenge accepted.” He took my glass of wine and put it on a nearby table. Then he held my hand and led me deeper into the yacht, passing the lounge where Andrew and Tristan were playing a game of chess.

“I need your help with Melinda,” he said to them without slowing down.

A thrill ran up my spine. “You need their help doing what with me?”

“You’ll see.”

When we got to his bedroom, Pierce kissed me fiercely. His tongue danced with mine, tasting of the expensive red wine we’d had with dinner. Then he shoved me down onto the bed.

But instead of taking me, he went over to the desk.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he repeated.

I thought he was going to retrieve something from one of the drawers, but he was fumbling around behind the desk. When he turned around, he was holding a long laptop cord.

“Ohh, are you going to show me some spreadsheets on your laptop?” I asked. “Nothing turns me on more than Microsoft Excel.”

He gave me a wicked grin. “In half an hour, you’re going to be begging to come.”

Pierce grabbed my hands and wrapped the cord around them like rope. Then he shoved me sideways on the bed, yanked my wrists down toward my feet, and finished tying the cord around my ankles. I tried moving; I couldn’t.

A new thrill that I had never felt before filled my body. “What are you going to do to me?”

Pierce smiled. “Whatever. We. Want.”

Andrew and Tristan entered the room and closed the door behind them. Tristan was already untying his necktie. Andrew saw me on the bed and said, “I was wondering when we’d do this.”

“About time, if you ask me,” Tristan added.

My heart was racing, but in a good way. “This is something the three of you discussed?”

“We’ve talked a lot about all the ways we want to have you,” Andrew replied as he kicked off his shoes. “It’s a long list.”

I stopped asking questions as Pierce hiked up my dress and roughly pulled my panties aside. His fingers rubbed up and down my slit, just forceful enough to show how much he wanted me.

“She’s already drenched,” Pierce said.

“I’m rock hard too,” Andrew admitted.

“Let’s not rush into things,” Tristan declared. “After all, we are not in any hurry.”

He unzipped his pants and knelt in front of me on the bed, guiding his cock into my waiting mouth. I moaned around his girth while Pierce continued rubbing me, dragging his fingertips into my wet folds. Tied up and laying on my side, I couldn’t spread my legs or guide his fingers up to my clit, where I desperately wanted him to touch. If anything, he seemed to be avoiding my clit.

That’s when I remembered his words: In half an hour, you’re going to be begging to come.

“Don’t hog all the fun,” Andrew said, now completely nude. “We’re supposed to be sharing her.”

“Perhaps I am regretting agreeing to such an arrangement,” Tristan said. “Because right now, I want her all to myself.”

Andrew shouldered Tristan out of the way and forced his hard length into my waiting lips. I took him eagerly, opening wide and taking as much as I could.

It was a strangely-erotic sensation, being tied up. I was powerless. I was at the mercy of their whims. I had never been interested in bondage before, but at that moment I understood the appeal.

I was more turned on than I ever had been in my life as my three lovers began having their way with me.

I moaned loudly as Pierce bent down and ate me out from behind. Andrew and Tristan continued swapping places, groaning each time they shoved their cocks into my mouth. Tristan put a hand on the back of my head, pushing me down onto him, showing me how much he needed me.

Then Pierce was teasing me with his cock, sliding it up and down my sopping-wet slit. Every time his crown brushed against my clit I shuddered with pleasure. But he never kept it there long enough to build up any momentum. That denial of what I really wanted caused the pleasure to build inside of me in a new and unexpected way.

“She’s dying to be fucked,” Andrew said while squeezing my breast.

“Mmm hmm,” I moaned around Tristan’s thick length.

“She can wait. Let me have some of her mouth.” Pierce switched places with Tristan, the latter now rubbing his cock all around my pussy. At one point I thought he was going to slide it in, but it was just the tip—and only the very tip of the tip at that.

It drove me wild. It heightened everything I felt. And even better, I could tell that it was only causing their desire for me to grow.

Finally, when it was Andrew’s turn to edge me, I rocked my hips back at just the right moment. Two wonderful inches slid into me, causing both of us to cry out with ecstasy simultaneously.

“Did we say you could do that?” Pierce crooned down at me. “That’s not allowed. You have to take whatever we give you, nothing more.”

And then he reached out and smacked my ass.

It wasn’t very hard, certainly not enough to cause real pain, but the sharp sensation rocked my body and elicited new pleasures. My skin felt warm where his palm had been, and I shivered with new delight.

“Oh, she enjoyed that,” Tristan purred. “She enjoyed that indeed.”

“Not as much as I’m going to enjoy this.” Pierce switched places with Andrew behind me. I gasped as his tongue ran up and down, devouring me. Everything except my clit. Then his tongue disappeared and was replaced by his hard length.

He gave me his tip. I was expecting only that, more teasing, so it was a shock when he grabbed my waist and drove every glistening inch of his cock into me. After being denied, the sudden pleasure was almost too intense. I clenched my eyes shut and screamed as the ecstasy washed over me, almost enough to send me into a climax right there.

“Rub my clit,” I begged. “I’m so close.”

“No,” Pierce replied. “We want to hear you beg more, don’t we?”

“Oh, we very much do,” Tristan said.

Andrew bent down and kissed me with tongue. “It’ll make it so much sweeter when we do give you what you want.”

Pierce wasn’t gentle with me; he held onto my waist and jackhammered into my pussy from behind. Tristan kissed me next, then grabbed my head with both hands and began fucking my mouth with more gusto. I savored the way they both used me like their little sex toy, taking me however they pleased.

“God damn I’m close already,” Pierce gritted out. “But I’m not ready to come yet. Andrew, take a turn.”

I was hollow for a moment, then Andrew sighed as he filled me.

“Don’t just sit there,” Pierce commanded. “Fuck her like you mean it.”

“With pleasure,” he replied, and then did exactly that. He gripped my thigh and slammed his cock into me, hard enough that the bed began to rock. My body lurched forward with every shuddering thrust, pushing my mouth farther down on Tristan’s dick.

They passed me between them like that for what felt like an eternity. The pleasure was intense, and I could sense a building orgasm, but it always remained just out of reach. If I’d been able to touch myself, I would’ve come several times by now. As it was, I was tortured right on the edge.

“Please,” I begged in the moments when they were switching whose cock was in my mouth.

“Please what?” Pierce asked.

“Please let me come.”

“You’re not begging hard enough.”

“I want to come so badly. My clit is on fire, just touch it, please just rub me for a few seconds, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

Pierce’s laugh was deep. “We’re already doing whatever we want to you, aren’t we?”

“We sure are,” Andrew agreed.

“You don’t get to come until we come,” Pierce said.

“I want you to come, come inside of me, fill me, please,” I gasped while Tristan switched with Andrew. “I need your come, I want to feel you exploding inside me, all of you.”

Andrew began moaning while I sucked him off. “I don’t know how much longer I can last. I…”

“Not yet,” Pierce said.

I could feel him getting close, so I focused all of my efforts on pleasing him. Swirling my tongue around his tip as he fucked my mouth. It had the desired effect, and he was soon gasping.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m going to come, I’m coming!”

Just as I felt a rope of salty come hit the back of my throat, Pierce pulled Andrew across the bed. Another shot landed on my thigh, and then Andrew buried his cock into my pussy. His cries were music to my ears as he pumped into me.

“You want to come?” Pierce asked me.

“So badly. Please.”

And then his fingertips reached down and pressed into my clit. It was like being electrocuted; power surged through my entire body, climbing in intensity as he rubbed faster. I tilted my head back and screamed, emptying my lungs of air as I wailed with ecstasy. The orgasm shook me, more powerful than any I’d ever had before. It went on and on, and I couldn’t tell if it was one long orgasm or several of them in quick succession.

I barely even noticed when Tristan took Andrew’s place and exploded inside me.

But when Pierce finally took over again, slamming his cock deep inside my already come-filled pussy, I knew exactly who was fucking me. His groans of pleasure were everything to me, my entire world. Tristan was rubbing my clit now as Pierce’s breathing quickened.

“Oh my God, Melinda. You’re so. Fucking. Tight. I can’t…”

His fingers tightened on my thigh as he shuddered with release, both his cock deep inside of me and his entire body outside. His cry of bliss was the culmination of everything we had done together, our greatest coupling. I imagined I could feel his liquid seed filling me, more of it than I had ever taken before, and that thought elongated my rough, ragged orgasm.

We cried out together until our voices were hoarse. And as it died down, I thought to myself: How can I ever go back to just one lover at a time?

42

Melinda

Since we weren’t in any hurry to return to New England, the Bellerophon made the journey in a leisurely eighteen days instead of ten. Two days of that was spent navigating around a storm in the Atlantic, but the massive yacht cut through the waves like they weren’t even there.

“Good thing we’re on such a large ship, huh?” Pierce asked in bed one evening while the Bellerophon gently rocked back and forth.

“I guess it’s bigger than I gave it credit for,” I admitted.

Pierce nodded. “That’s all any guy wants to hear.”

“Something tells me most men aren’t self-conscious about the size of their yacht.”

“I can’t believe you would accuse me of such a thing.” Pierce clicked his tongue at me. “On an unrelated note, did you know the Bellerophon is two feet longer than Mark Zuckerberg’s yacht?”

“Definitely not a competition,” I muttered.

It was a wonderful eighteen days at sea. We ate, drank, relaxed, and had incredible sex. With the three of them coming inside me multiple times per day, I decided that I was definitely going to get pregnant this time around. If I put positive vibes out in the universe, I would be rewarded.

And if not, then all this sex was reward enough.

Carly texted me on the third day of the journey to apologize for blowing things out of proportion. On the fifth day, she excitedly described a toucan that had perched on the terrace while they drank coffee one morning. By the time they flew home on day twelve, Carly was back to treating me like nothing was wrong.

I called my mom every day. Now she was complaining about how we hadn’t invited her and Dad down to the island before it was converted into a research facility. I told her that we would make it up to them with another trip around the world somewhere.

“Anywhere but Thailand,” she replied instantly. “I saw a report on Dateline about the food they eat. I want to go to Italy, or France.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I promised.

It was almost a shame to eventually reach Rhode Island. When we arrived, I packed up my things and carried them up to the helicopter pad.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” Pierce asked. “It’s going to take months for me to settle all my assets, and I’m keeping the Bellerophon here in New England as a base of operations.”

“Tempting, but I need my own space without any distractions. Besides, moving in with you is a big commitment.”

“So you’ll have my baby and commit to raising a family together,” Pierce said, “but moving in is a step too far?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, I have a lot of work to do setting up my business. We’ll still see each other almost every day. It takes twenty minutes to get to my place.”

“Yeah, but it’s a whole big thing. We have to land the helicopter at the pad north of the docks, then take a car to your place. It’d be a lot easier if you moved into an apartment with a helicopter pad on the roof.”

“I don’t think they have any of those in Providence,” I said dryly.

He wrapped his arms around me. “Then I’ll build you one. Offices on the first ten floors, and luxury apartments on the top.”

“You want to go into commercial real estate now?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “What happened to putting business aside and starting a family?”

“You make me want to try all sorts of new things. Besides, I need a pet project. I’m bored, Melinda.”

“Focus on liquidating your estate. Then we can find hobbies for you. Maybe we could join a co-ed soccer league. I was supposed to join one this year, but dropped out after signing your contract.”

He brushed back a lock of my hair. “I’d like that.”

I said my goodbyes to Pierce, then Andrew and Tristan. The flight into Providence was quick, as was the short drive after that to my apartment. It was just as empty as it seemed the last time I came here, but I didn’t mind. I didn’t feel alone this time.

The next few weeks were busy from start to finish. After months of screwing around—literally—on the Bellerophon, it actually felt good to put my head down and work. I finished my business proposal with the help of Tristan, then went to banks to get a small business loan. Of course, I could have borrowed the money from Pierce, but that still felt like cheating.

He did help me get a competitive interest rate, though.

There were a million little tasks that needed doing: renting server space from Amazon Web Services, submitting the forms for my LLC, applying for business licenses in Rhode Island and Massachusetts. It was easy because it was the kind of work I had already done at New England Digital Marketing. And it was even more satisfying than before since I knew it was my own company this time.

I did see my three men frequently enough to keep us all satisfied. Sometimes they visited me at my apartment, individually and together, and other times I flew out to the Bellerophon. It was like having a real relationship, alternating whose place we stayed at. It felt silly to do that after we had already spent months essentially living together, but it was a nice way to ground my relationship with them. And it gave me enough independence to keep me satisfied.

Pierce continued selling off his assets and donating to charities. He made a sizable donation to Dartmouth, which would be spent on a new building with his name on it. That kept him in the media’s spotlight for a little while, but soon they did grow bored of him. Each contribution merited a news article or two, but it wasn’t the kind of juicy reporting that meant reporters would follow him around everywhere he went. And on my side of things, I hadn’t seen any reporters or paparazzi since my first week back in Providence.

The world went on without us. Which was just fine by me.

Three months after returning to Rhode Island, I took the elevator down to the street level of my apartment. Three men waited there: Pierce in a simple suit without a tie, Tristan in his usual slate-gray three-piece suit, and Andrew wearing a dress shirt and tie without the jacket.

“Well don’t the three of you look dashing?” I said.

Andrew whistled. “Not as good-looking as you. I like you in a pencil skirt.”

“I have to look professional. I’m the boss, after all. Now, who’s going to escort me to the party?”

Pierce took my arm first and we walked north through downtown Providence. Our destination was three blocks away, so Tristan escorted me for the second block, with Andrew taking the last stretch. We took the elevator to the fifth floor, and the doors opened to my new office. It was an open floor plan, with two offices with windows in the corners and various other desks and cubicles spread out in the middle. There were already six other guests here—my new employees.

“We’ll let you do your thing,” Pierce said, kissing me on the cheek. “I’ll get you a drink.”

“Just a Sprite,” I replied. “I want to keep a clear head tonight. Don’t want my new employees to see me tipsy before we even start.”

Andrew and Tristan lightly touched me on the back before departing too. In public, Pierce was still my only partner. The world probably wouldn’t understand our four-person polyamorous partnership, but that was okay. They didn’t need to understand. We were happy regardless.

I mingled with my new employees, then followed the smell of food over to the catering table. I did a double-take when I got there.

“Alejandro! What are you doing here?”

“I wished to be here for your first day!” he replied, taking a plate and filling it with food. “Here. You must eat. So much talking, and walking, and business.”

I leaned across the catering table to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll take your advice.”

I ate the food, then went back to mingling. The six employees working for Norris Marketing were a strong group. I had a young IT Engineer who had just graduated from Brown and was hungry to begin at a start-up. My sales team was a trio of women who were as smart as they were charismatic. So were the pair of creative designers I had hired, who had four decades of experience between them.

And the cherry on top: my Director of Operations was Henry Avalon, who had been my first hire at New England Digital Marketing. Stealing him away from the Bobs was every bit as satisfying as I thought it would be.

After mingling and eating for an hour, I made a speech in front of my new employees and their spouses. I kept it short. “I’ll see you all back here Monday morning. We’re going to do great things.”

They lingered a little longer, said their goodbyes, and then trickled out of the building. Alejandro and the bartender began cleaning up their stations. Eventually, it was just me and my three men.

“I requisitioned this from the bartender before he put away his bottles.” Tristan handed me a glass of whiskey on ice.

“You do love me,” I said.

He kissed me. “More than you will ever know, my darling.”

“Nervous?” Andrew asked me.

“What do I have to be nervous about?” I asked. “I’m only starting my own business from scratch. For the second time. With a lot more expectations and pressure than the first time.”

“Sure,” Pierce said. “Nothing to be nervous about at all.”

Tristan turned toward the windows, which gave a view of Providence and the bay to the south. “Shall we tie one on before retiring for the evening?”

“Only if we can retire back on the Bellerophon,” Pierce said.

“Oh, come on!” I argued. “My place is three blocks away.”

“My yacht is farther, but has much better amenities,” Pierce replied.

“Care to weigh in?” Tristan asked Andrew.

“I’m happy with either place,” Andrew said. “Don’t drag me into this.”

“I just upgraded my bed! It’s big enough for all four of us!”

“Very well,” Pierce said. “It’s your big night, so we’ll do what you want.”

“Cheers,” Tristan said, raising his glass. “To our lovely lady, the wonderful Ms. Melinda Norris. Long may she reign.”

Everyone sipped. I brought the glass to my lips, inhaling the sharp scent of whiskey without drinking.

“Come now,” Tristan said. “It is poor form not to drink during a toast.”

“And bad luck,” Andrew said.

“I took a sip,” I said. “I’m letting the food settle first.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes at me. “That’s seventy-year-old scotch from my private collection. The amount in your glass is worth more than three months of rent on this office. It would be a shame to waste it.”

All three of them were looking at me, now.

“You’re not going to drink it?” Andrew asked. Then he gasped. “You’re not going to drink it!”

“I fail to understand,” Tristan said.

I grimaced. “You couldn’t let me tell you my own way, could you?”

“Tell us what?” Tristan asked.

“You asked for Sprite earlier,” Pierce said. “I was suspicious from that moment. You didn’t drink anything tonight. You asked the bartender to make you mocktails all evening.”

Finally, Tristan’s eyes widened. “Are you saying…”

I put down the glass of whiskey and wrung my hands nervously. “I got the results three days ago. I was going to wait until my first appointment next week before telling you, but…”

The three of them held their breath. It wasn’t real until I said it out loud.

“I’m pregnant.”

Andrew let out an excited cheer and hugged me. Tristan, to our surprise, was outright weeping.

“The most emotion you’ve ever shown is a raised eyebrow!” Pierce said.

“I cannot help it! I am overwhelmed with feelings!” he said while wrapping me in a hug.

Pierce was calm, but had a huge smile on his face. “No tears from you?” I asked.

“It’s early,” he replied. “I’ll wait until the first doctor’s appointment. But you have no idea how happy this makes me.”

“Give me that.” Tristan took my discarded glass of whiskey and chugged it down. “Oh my, that is good. Is it too late to chase the bartender?”

“Now we have to celebrate on the Bellerophon,” Pierce insisted. “With proper drinks.”

“But I can’t drink!” I said.

“I’m sure we have sparkling cider for you. And Dom for the rest of us,” Pierce replied.

“An excellent proposition,” Tristan said. “One of us is going to be a father.”

“All of us are going to be fathers,” Andrew said. “We all had a hand in this, no matter whose little swimmer crossed the finish line first.”

“Then it’s settled!” Pierce grinned. “Back to the yacht.”

I stamped my foot. “NO.”

That got their attention.

“I want to celebrate with the three of you back at my apartment. My small, cramped apartment. And I want to eat peanut butter right out of the jar, because I’m pretty sure my pregnancy cravings have already started, and I will literally murder anyone who gets in the way.”

Alejandro cleared his voice behind me. “I saved you an extra plate, Ms. Norris. And I borrowed a bottle of sparkling cider from the bartender before he left.” Alejandro held up the plate in one hand and the bottle in the other. “It is not peanut butter, but it is good for now?”

I took the plate from him and kissed him on the lips. “You’re a wonderful man, Alejandro.” I pointed at him and told Pierce, “Keep him forever. And give him a raise.”

“How did you know, Alejandro?” Pierce asked.

The chef gave a modest shrug. “I have many children and grandchildren. She is glowing. I have seen this glow before, and I know.” He tapped the side of his head.

“Have a glass with us, Alejandro,” Pierce said while opening the bottle. “We’re celebrating.”

The guys shook hands and hugged. They were all smiles now. Eventually I would have this baby and it might be obvious who the biological father was. But for now, all of them could share in the joy.

“So,” I said. “Now that I’ve hit the first milestone of contract incentives, who do I talk to about getting paid?”

All of them laughed.

“Is it a direct deposit situation,” I added, “or, like, a cash deal? I’m good with either.”

They roared with laughter, even Alejandro. We poured the sparkling cider and toasted to the baby’s health, then walked back to my apartment arm-in-arm.

We were happy, happier than we had ever expected to be. It was over, and yet it was also just beginning.

There was finally a baby inside of me.

Epilogue

Pierce

About eight months later

“Get this baby out of me!” Melinda screamed at the top of her lungs. “I hate this! I hate you!”

“They all say that,” the nurse whispered in my ear. “Don’t take it personally. Just keep being supportive.”

“Keep breathing,” I told Melinda, squeezing her hand. “You’re doing great.”

Her face was beet-red and covered with sweat. Tristan, Andrew, and I were wearing hospital scrubs in the delivery room. Melinda had been there for almost thirty hours. She had done amazing so far, better than any of us could have done in that situation, but if she didn’t deliver the baby soon they would do a C-section instead.

Finally, the nurse gave the thumbs-up. “We’re ready to proceed.”

“Oh thank God,” Melinda cursed.

Childbirth wasn’t a miracle. It was fucking disgusting. Okay, it was a miracle too. But seriously, it wasn’t pretty. I won’t go into the details except to say that Melinda did wonderfully, and she—and the baby—were perfectly healthy.

Andrew and Tristan hugged, and then they hugged me. The relief was immense.

Melinda was crying when they gave her the baby to hold for the first time. “She’s beautiful.”

“Just like her mother,” Andrew said.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she said with a glare. “I’m still mad at you three.”

“You agreed to this situation,” Tristan said. “In fact, you were a willing participant.”

“Very willing,” Andrew said.

“I’m not interested in your facts right now. The only thing I care about is this little bundle.” She kissed the baby on the forehead.

I shared a smile with the other two. Yep, that was our Melinda.

For a while, we all rested. I was exhausted, and I had just been a spectator to the Herculean task of giving birth. I couldn’t imagine how Melinda felt.

Then she said, “Do you want to hold her?”

All three of us jumped up at once. “Who’s first?” Andrew asked.

“It is only right that it be Pierce,” Tristan said. “It was his contract, based on his desire, that brought us to this point.”

I shook my head. “I’m in no hurry. You two can hold her first.”

Andrew gingerly took the baby from Melinda’s arms. She didn’t look like she wanted to hand her over, but she immediately slumped back into the hospital bed, eyes growing heavy. But she smiled while Andrew gently rocked the baby.

Tristan was next, and the tears were flowing the moment he touched her. I wanted to tease him, but decided the moment was too special for that. Andrew smiled at me; he must have been thinking the same thing.

Then it was my turn. As soon as I brought her to my chest, I was overwhelmed with emotion. It was like a switch had gone off in my brain, reorganizing all of my priorities. Turning me into a father.

I gazed down at my sleeping daughter. It was obviously too early to tell who the biological father was. Purple and pudgy, she could have been more closely related to an alien than any of us.

A pudgy, purple alien that I love with all my heart.

Our moment of peace soon ended when the nurses arrived. There were a battery of tests that needed to be run on the baby, and Melinda needed some special care as well. Andrew, Tristan, and I left and went out to the waiting room down the hall to get some coffee.

“There they are!” exclaimed Melinda’s father. “You three look so tired I would have thought you did the delivery.”

“We did not, and thank goodness for that,” Tristan replied. “I have seen too much of the human body today.”

“Amen to that,” Andrew added while we made our greetings.

“Men can be such wimps,” Melinda’s mother said. “It’s just childbirth. It’s natural.”

“There are lots of natural things that are unpleasant,” I said. “But still, Melinda and the baby are both healthy.”

“Congratulations are in order!” Melinda’s father said. “So, which of you three is the father?”

I was so exhausted that the comment didn’t sink in for several seconds. Tristan reacted first: “Whatever do you mean?”

“Come on,” he insisted. “I may not be a billionaire, but I’m not stupid, either. I’ve seen the way all three of you look at her—and the way she looks back at you.”

I shared a look with the other two. We had been keeping this a secret for the past nine months, and hadn’t even begun to think about how to discuss it with family.

Her father held out his palms. “Look, I don’t care. I’m just happy Mel is happy. My only concern is that this is three times as many chances for her heart to get broken.”

“I can assure you that will not happen,” Tristan said. Andrew nodded emphatically.

“We’re crazy about your daughter,” I added. “If anything, she’ll break our hearts.”

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “Mel is stubborn. Once she sets her mind to something, or someone, she rarely changes course.”

“Or three someones!” her mom said with a grin.

“I certainly hope so,” I said. “Because I don’t intend to fall out of love with her.”

Andrew stuck out his chin. “None of us do. I can promise you that.”

“All right, all right. A father had to make sure. And speaking of that, congrats to you three.”

I shook his hand. “Thanks, Mr. Norris.”

“Oh, please. Call me Doug. Unless Brown loses to Dartmouth in the basketball tournament next weekend. Then you can address me as Mr. Norris.”

I grinned. “Then I’ll enjoy calling you Doug while I can, because Brown doesn’t stand a chance.”

“And look at you!” her mom exclaimed while hugging Tristan. “Is that a polo shirt? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than a suit.”

“I changed before arriving. I wanted to avoid my suit getting… fluids on it.” He shuddered.

We chatted with them in the waiting room, and celebrated with cups of coffee, until the nurses told us we could go back in. Doug beamed when he held his granddaughter. Melinda’s mother immediately began fussing with her about all the little things she needed to worry about after taking the baby home.

“Let’s discuss those tomorrow,” Melinda said gently.

“Good,” Doug said. “We can also discuss how you went away to be Pierce’s surrogate a year ago, and came back with three boyfriends.”

Melinda was too tired to be shocked. “I guess the cat is out of the bag. How’d you find out? Did Carly tell you?”

“Carly knows?!?!” her mother exclaimed.

“I tell Carly everything.”

“Does she know the baby’s name?” Doug asked.

“Nobody does. There is no name, yet. We’re waiting a few days to let everything settle, and to see what her personality is like.”

“She’s a few hours old,” Melinda’s mother said. “She doesn’t have a personality.”

“We’ll be sure to let you know when we decide,” Melinda answered.

Her parents visited for a little while, then left to give us some privacy. We continued passing the baby around. When I wasn’t holding her, I was staring at her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her; she was perfect in every way.

“Hear me out,” I said. “Melinda Junior.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“You said men are the only ones arrogant enough to name their children after themselves,” I pointed out. “I want to prove you wrong.”

“We’re not naming her Melinda Junior. That’s not a thing.”

“We could make it a thing!”

Melinda turned to the other two men in the room. “Will someone offer a reasonable alternative?”

“My mother’s name is Mary,” Tristan suggested.

“I like it! Wasn’t there a Queen Mary?”

Tristan cleared his throat. “Yes, well…”

“Bloody Mary,” Andrew said. “Right?”

“That was Mary the First,” Tristan admitted. “Mary the Second was a far better monarch. She ruled wisely with her husband, William.”

“William and Mary,” I said. “Like the college.”

“Indeed.”

“Any other suggestions?” Melinda asked.

“My mother’s name is Louise,” Andrew said sheepishly. “I’ve always liked it, but I’m biased…”

Melinda and I locked eyes, and that’s when I knew. It was like we were speaking telepathically.

“Mary Louise,” we said at the same time.

A hush went over the room. Mary Louise. I felt certain about it when I looked at the bundle of joy in Melinda’s arms.

“It’s perfect,” Andrew said.

“A more beautiful name I have never heard,” Tristan said. He had tears in his eyes again!

“But are you sure?” Andrew asked me. “For her to be named after both of our mothers, but not yours…”

“I don’t care,” I said, speaking from the heart. With these three, I didn’t need to think about what I was going to say. “Things don’t have to be perfectly fair in all things with us. There are times when I’ll hog more of the baby, and other times when you both will. Just like we’ve done with Melinda.”

I reached down and took the baby from Melinda. As I did so, her eyes fluttered open for a few moments. They looked like my eyes, I decided. That was enough for me.

“Welcome to the world, Mary Louise Norris,” I said.

The next day was a blur of nurses, lectures, and information. They helped Melinda breastfeed. They gave us all tips on how to hold her, how to care for her, what to expect for the next few days, weeks, and months. We were bombarded with information. It was all so overwhelming.

And then, before we knew it, we were leaving the hospital. We stopped by Norris Marketing to show off the new baby to all of Melinda’s employees—there were almost two dozen of them now, many of whom were scooped up after New England Digital Marketing’s sweeping layoffs. Then we got in the helicopter to return to the Bellerophon, where we had agreed to raise Mary Louise for the first month.

“Do they even make car seats for helicopters?” Melinda asked as we got in. She had our daughter wrapped to her chest in one of those cloth wrap carriers.

“I’m sure a regular car seat would work in one of these seats,” Andrew said. “I’ll start looking into it.”

“Some day, all of this will be yours,” I whispered to the baby when we were over the water. “This helicopter, and that boat out in the distance. All the light touches.”

“Are you doing a Lion King bit?” Melinda asked. “Stop it.”

“Just be glad I’m not holding her out the open door,” I replied. “Like Mufasa and Simba on the rock.”

Melinda covered the baby and leaned away from me. “Don’t even joke about that!”

“Sorry, dear.” I put an arm around her and kissed her head, then did the same to Mary Louise. But I knew exactly what she meant. Suddenly, nothing in my life mattered except this little bundle of love. Even joking about putting her in danger raised my heart rate.

It was a funny thing, now that I thought about it. I’d spent my early years playing competitive sports, and was elite at the high school and college levels. I’d conquered the business world, earning more money than anyone had a right to possess. If life was a game, and wealth was a scoreboard, I had surely won.

Yet none of that compared to the satisfaction of holding my daughter in my arms. Everything else was so petty compared to her.

“I love you so much,” I said to Mary Louise. Then I turned to Melinda. “And I love you so much.”

“Good thing you picked me out of the surrogacy catalog, huh?” she smiled.

“We had a say in that,” Andrew said in the seat across from us.

“Indeed, it was a group effort,” Tristan added.

We smiled. It was a group effort, and would continue to be so.

We were all so, so lucky.

Bonus Scene

Want to see how Melinda, the boys, and their new daughter are doing in the future? Click the link below (or type it into a browser) to receive a special scene that was deleted from the original copy of the book!

https://tinyurl.com/drztx9n3

If you enjoyed this book, you’re going to love this other Reverse Harem Romance from Cassie Cole: Nanny for the Athletes. You can click here to buy it, or keep reading for a special sneak peek!

Beth

The car in the driveway was a blue Jeep 4Runner. Hank ran up and barked excitedly, while Princess stayed close to my leg, waiting to see what was going on.

“Hank, come here,” I said, calling the dog back to my side.

My breath caught in my throat as the man stepped out of the Jeep. He looked effortlessly stunning in a charcoal Brunello Cucinelli suit, exuding a magnetic charm that was impossible to ignore. The suit clung to his athletic frame in all the right places, emphasizing broad shoulders and a chiseled chest, a subtle testament to the strength beneath the fabric. His confident stride, along with a calm certainty in his dark eyes, radiated an air of strength and leadership.

Who is that?

Behind him, a black-and-tan German Shepherd hopped out of the car. The dog started to lope forward toward Hank and Princess at my side, but then the man clicked twice with his tongue. The dog immediately circled back around to its owner and sat patiently on its haunches.

“Good girl, Heidi,” the man said in a deep, commanding voice. Then he turned to me and said, “She’s friendly, if it’s all right for her to say hi.”

Heidi the German Shepherd was still sitting politely, but her tail was swishing on the gravel with barely-contained excitement.

“Sure! Hank loves other dogs.” I glanced behind me, and saw that Princess had run back up on the porch and was watching from a safe distance. “That’s Princess, one of the dogs boarding with us right now. She’s shy, but gets along with bigger breeds.”

The man made another clicking sound with his tongue, and Heidi came trotting up to us. She and Hank circled each other, sniffing butts and checking each other out with wagging tails. Once their introduction was over, I crouched down to say hi to her. She gave me a few investigatory sniffs, but then she and Hank went running off into the field together to play.

“Don’t take it personally; it takes a while for Heidi to warm up to strangers,” the man said. “Is this Lizzy’s Dog Boarding?”

“It sure is!” A customer! I have a customer! “I’m not sure if I have you on the schedule for today, but we do take walk-ups.”

Up close, I saw that the man’s face was a study in rugged handsomeness. His jet-black hair framed a square jawline, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. Strong, expressive eyebrows arched over his dark, penetrating eyes, adding depth to his gaze. Those eyes held a certain intensity, and they seemed to carry the wisdom of experiences beyond his years. His skin, lightly bronzed by the sun, further enhanced these striking features. As he smiled, his lips revealed a set of perfect, white teeth that radiated confidence and warmth.

He looks familiar. Why does he look so familiar?

“My name’s Christian.”

“Nice to meet you, Christian! I’m—”

“Let me guess: Lizzy?” he asked with a small grin.

I chuckled. “Yes. Well, sort of. My name is Elizabeth, but I go by Beth. I was named after my grandma, who went by Lizzy. She used to own this property before I turned it into a dog boarding kennel, so I decided to name it after her. Sorry, I’m rambling. Heidi seems really sweet! I love German Shepherds.”

“Best dog I’ve ever had.” Christian slid back the sleeve of his suit jacket to look at his watch. “Braden was right behind me. I must have lost him at a light…”

“Is that him?” A cherry red Mazda Miata convertible was driving down the main road in the distance, then turned onto my driveway. The top was down, and a Golden Retriever was standing up in the passenger seat with its paws up on the edge, tongue lolling out in a wide canine smile.

“That’s him,” Christian said, waving.

Before the car came to a complete stop, the dog jumped over the edge and came running up to me. It didn’t just wag its tail—its entire back half wiggled back and forth as it rubbed against my legs.

“Oh you’re such a sweetie!” As soon as I crouched down, the dog began licking my face and neck.

“Woah, Pickles! You gotta ask permission before going to first base, buddy.” The man who hopped out of the convertible had a relaxed and carefree demeanor, in stark contrast with Christian’s intense calm. His sun-kissed, tousled hair was a shade of golden blond, and it seemed perpetually windblown, giving him an approachable and laid-back look. Unlike his suited friend, he was dressed in a simple, well-worn T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans that looked like they’d lived a full life. His playful blue eyes sparkled with mischievousness and were framed by a scattering of freckles on his nose, hinting at countless days spent under the sun. With an infectious grin that showcased a hint of dimples, he exuded an easygoing charm. I liked him immediately.

The Golden Retriever suddenly turned his head toward the field where Heidi and Hank were playing. Then he took off at a dead sprint to join them. Up on the front porch of the house, Princess cautiously watched all of this.

“His name is Pickles?” I asked with a laugh. “That’s got to be the best name for a dog I’ve ever heard.”

“Matches his personality. It was extra funny when he got out of my backyard a few months ago, the weekend I moved in. I ran around my neighborhood shouting his name. Pickles! PICKLES!” His warm smile widened further. “My new neighbors probably thought: man, this guy is really into pickles.”

“This is Beth,” Christian said. “She runs the boarding kennel.”

“Shit. Forgot my manners. I’m Braden.”

His hand was enormous, and completely enveloped mine as we shook.

“You forgot more than your manners. Why aren’t you suited up for the flight?” Christian asked. He sounded like an older sibling chiding a younger brother.

Braden rolled his eyes. “I brought clothes. I’m gonna change at the airport.”

“There are photographers at the airport. Go change now.” He turned to me. “I’m really sorry to ask this, but can my lazy teammate change clothes inside?”

“Go ahead. But please don’t judge me for the mess,” I added. “I’m still getting this place livable.”

Braden groaned, but went back to retrieve a bag out of his car.

“Normally we prefer clients book in advance,” I explained, “but you’re in luck, because today we can accommodate walk-ups.”

“Actually, we don’t need boarding today,” Christian replied. “We just wanted to come by and check it out first.”

“This place is dope,” Braden said over his shoulder. “There’s way more room than the boarder we’ve been using since moving to St. Louis.”

Christian nodded. “This is more like Brandi’s kennel in Indianapolis.”

“Yeah, totally.” Braden disappeared inside my house.

Indianapolis. The city triggered a memory. “Wait a minute. Did you hear about me from…” I trailed off. I couldn’t remember the names of the women at the hockey game. “Um. They were a nice couple, I met them at a Blues hockey game. They were, uh…”

“Lesbians?” Christian gave me a small smile. “Emily and Leslie?”

“That’s them! I gave them my card.”

“Leslie is Braden’s sister. That’s how we heard about you.”

“You’re football players. For the Colts.” I examined Christian with new eyes. He was at least six-foot-four, and looked very sturdy underneath his suit. I should have known the moment he got out of his Jeep.

“That’s us,” Christian admitted. “We have a road game against the Steelers this weekend, so we’re headed to the airport. Hence the suit.”

Hank, Heidi, and Pickles went sprinting past us along the fence, wagging their tails happily.

“You’re taking your dogs with you to the airport?”

“We’re stopping by the regular boarder before that,” he replied. “But your kennel was on the way, so we swung by here first.”

“You should leave them here!” I said. “Board them with me instead.”

Christian ran a hand through his dark hair, which fell back into place perfectly. “I don’t know. We’re already booked with the other boarder…”

“You said you don’t like that boarder,” I insisted. “I have a lot more room for the dogs to play here. One second, let me grab you a print out of all the services we offer.”

I hurried up to my house with Princess right next to me. I had spent much of last night working on a flier that listed all the extra services I offered, and had a copy printed out. It wasn’t the final draft, but it was good enough to show Christian.

If I can snag their business today…

I hurried through the door and into my kitchen, then stopped in my tracks. In the dining room straight ahead, Braden was nude. Well, not totally nude—he was wearing a pair of boxer-briefs and nothing else. But the underwear was tight enough that I could see the long outline of his junk, a sight which took my breath away as much as seeing the lines and ridges of a body covered with corded muscle. His thighs were like powerful tree trunks.

When he saw me, he flinched. “Shit, sorry!” There was a suit bag hanging off one of the dining room chairs, which he grabbed and used to cover himself. “I was changing into this.”

I tore my eyes away from him and pointed. “The bathroom is over there!”

“Yeah, I saw that, but…” He smiled awkwardly. “There’s a bunch of dog food in there. So I thought I would change in here real quick.”

Crap. The dog food bags. “I forgot I put those in there. I’ve been trying to clean this place, so I’ve been shuffling everything around…”

My cheeks felt hot, and I was about to die of embarrassment. So I grabbed the services sheet off the dining room table and hurried back outside.

KEEP READING

NANNY FOR THE ATHLETES

Cassie Cole is a Reverse Harem Romance writer living in Branson, Missouri. A sappy lover at heart, she thinks romance is best with a kick-butt plot!

Books by Cassie Cole

Standalone Novels

Baby for the Billionaire

Shared by the Firemen

Nanny for the Athletes

Shared by the Pilots

Match Point

Roommates With Benefits

The Inheritance

Bosses With Benefits

Nanny for the Mercenaries

Shared by the Billionaires

Nanny for the Santas

Nanny for the Firemen

Nanny for the SEALs

Shared by the Cowboys

Nanny for the Billionaire

Her Lucky Charm

Naughty Resolution

Unwrapped

Frostbitten

Snowbound

Hail Mary

Extra Credit

Nanny With Benefits

Triple Play

Tiger Queen

The Study Group

Undercover Action

Trained At The Gym

Christmas Package

The Naughty List

Smolder

Sealed With A Kiss

Full Contact

The Proposition

Saved by the SEALs

Shared by her Bodyguards

Triple Team

All In

Five Alarm Christmas

Drilled

Broken In

Pyromancer’s Path

Warrior’s Wrath

Mage’s Mercy

Tinker’s Trial

Ranger’s Risk

Shadow’s Savior