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CHAPTER ONE
ELLE
What do people think of when they think of the name Elle Morris? Wife. Mother. Homemaker. I love being all those things. The twins, Jody and Keira, are still my babies, even at fourteen, although they would both prefer I not describe them that way publicly. Naturally, knowing this means I’m much more likely to do it. And then there’s Falcon, my husband.
Even after fifteen years of marriage, I still love him every bit as much as I did in the beginning. Maybe even more so. I still love the pants off him—literally. He used to be an MMA fighter, and although he retired from the sport and now works as the CEO of an investment banking company, he has never let himself go physically.
He still works out five times a week, and fuck me, does it show. He has washboard abs and a chest to die for. His sparkling green eyes and mess of blond hair make him look younger than his years, and just looking at him is enough to get me wet. We used to have a fucking awesome sex life, but now we don’t get it as often as I’d like us to, with the girls and Falcon’s job taking up so much of our time. But when we do, he still completely rocks my world, making me come hard and fast, and yes after all these years, he still makes me weak inside.
So yes, I’m happy. I know I have the sort of life a lot of women would kill for: a big house, a nice car, nail appointments, spa days, a full name-brand wardrobe, and I even get to do brunches. But lately, it’s not enough, and I’ve found myself questioning my identity more and more in recent years.
When Falcon and I got married, I had big dreams. I was going to be a corporate litigator, like one of those glamorous women you see on TV who make mincemeat of their opponents in court and have this air about them that says don’t fucking mess with me.
But then I got pregnant, and I dropped out of law school. It was the right choice at the time. I wanted so badly to be a good mom and stay at home with my girls, and Falcon was making enough money from his fighting that we could afford for me to stay home. And then he moved into the CEO position, and to say we’re well off is an understatement.
I have been thinking about all this for at least a year now, and it hit me this morning what I want to do. I want to go back to work. Not as an attorney; I really don’t like the idea of going back to college and interning for partners who are younger than me. But I feel like, at thirty-four, it’s time I made my mark on the world and accomplished something that’s just for me.
The twins are fourteen now, old enough to be home alone for a couple hours after school, and now is the perfect time for me to start searching for a job. It’s summer vacation, and my parents took the twins on a month-long trip around Asia. After they left yesterday, I realized the house was too empty—too quiet, and Falcon seems to be working longer and longer hours.
I’m done with rattling around our big old house all alone, bored and unfulfilled. It’s time for me to take the plunge. I know Falcon won’t be happy about it. He takes protective to a ridiculous place. He sees the world as dangerous and me as his fragile little wife to be locked away from danger.
Okay, that’s not entirely fair. Falcon is a good husband. I have a good life. And I suppose his protectiveness is kind of sweet. But I’m not made of paper, and it’s time for me to venture out into the world.
I made my mind up for sure last night that it’s time for me to do this, and I plan to tell Falcon my plans over breakfast. He and I will have an early breakfast before he starts stressing over the day’s work, so it’ll be the perfect time to talk to him.
I’m kind of nervous as I walk down the wide sweeping staircase that dominates the center of our home and go through to the kitchen, where Falcon is already sitting down with the morning paper, a cup of coffee, and a bagel. Beside him are a cup for me and a bowl of cereal with the milk ready to be added at the last minute because I hate soggy cereal. I smile to myself. It’s so sweet that Falcon always prepares my breakfast for me like this.
I stand in the kitchen doorway, watching him for a moment as he frowns at what he’s reading. His suit is immaculate, and I feel a rush of desire go through me as I look at him. He looks hot in anything, but there’s just something about him in a suit that never fails to make me wet, and now is no exception.
