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Trent nodded as giddiness built up inside him.
“I guess antibiotics and the pill don’t mix well. And yeah, I’m sure. I haven’t seen a doctor yet, but I took seven pregnancy tests and they all came back positive.”
“Pregnant.” He pictured himself holding his own son or daughter. “Seven tests!”
“Are you mad?” she asked with caution.
“Mad?” How could she think he was mad? “I’m euphoric. I’ve got you and soon I’ll have a son or daughter. I couldn’t be happier.”
Trent stood, pulling her up with him, and crushed her against his chest. “I do think we should get married sooner rather than later now.” He kissed her before she answered.
When they broke apart her face again beamed with joy. “How about we start making plans later tonight. Right now I have something else in mind.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the stairs.
“I love the way you think.”
Coming Soon
Jessica Quinn’s story in Book 2 of Christina Tetreault’s Love On The North Shore Series as well as Book 6 in The Sherbrookes of Newport Series.
Read on for an excerpt from Susie Warren’s next book Ruthless Perfection.
Chapter 1
Isabel Neri slowly made her way through the throng of holiday seekers getting off the ferry at Martha’s Vineyard. The privileged atmosphere surrounding her did nothing to ease her nerves. She quietly observed the excitement and anticipation of a summer getaway of those who gathered their children, belongings, and even pets and headed to the dock. For her, this wasn’t a summer holiday but the opportunity to pitch an idea for a documentary to a reclusive billionaire. Catching sight of a driver holding up a small white sign that simply said Neri, Isabel willed herself to move forward.
She had grown up feeling beautiful and feminine until an accident had robbed her of her youthful optimism and carefree approach to life. These days her passionate and curious outlook on life was tempered by a seriousness that concerned those closest to her.
The nervousness building in her tightly compressed lungs, Isabel forced herself to take a slow and steady breath. She knew the trip was probably a wasted effort. Marc Santoro would most likely refuse her request. But she also knew that, given the opportunity, she would be able to document a lost way of life. She recalled stories from her grandfather about the Carrara marble trade and knew instinctively that it was a story worth telling.
She had allowed her grandfather to convince her that seeking a grant to film the history of the marble industry was the next logical step in launching her career as a filmmaker. She had put together the financing for a trip to the marble quarries and used her grandfather’s influence to be granted an interview with the reclusive marble billionaire.
Isabel knew Marc Santoro had made his fortune in minerals and scarce metals and that he had a reputation for only granting a meeting if it was of interest to him. She still had his image seared into her brain from their chance meeting at her parents’ restaurant months ago. He had the look of a CEO: tall, clothed in well-fitted business attire, everything about him polished. He had been younger than she would have predicted from his accomplishments, barely thirty years old, with a boyish charm and intensity that won over anyone that came into his vicinity. She had noticed that those around him often did a double take when first seeing him. She assumed it was his near perfect bone structure, masculine jawline, straight nose, penetrating brown eyes and sculpted mouth.
Isabel had read what little press was available on the billionaire. It was limited. Even after an accident at the quarry, he would have the gates locked and refuse to speak with the media. Marc Santoro didn’t encourage attention, but the more remote he became, the more interested the world became. His name had been recently linked with a blond model. Why did he hold himself apart from the world? What was he hiding?
The driver insisted on carrying her bag and guided her to a metallic blue, vintage Aston Martin. He held the backdoor open while she glided inside the luxurious vehicle.
“How far is the drive?” she asked the older man.
“Not far. The whole island is only twenty-five miles.”
Within minutes they escaped the traffic and were heading out of Vineyard Haven on a country road.
The memory of her previous encounter with Marc Santoro was etched into her mind. He loomed larger than life in her grandfather’s world. He had a reputation for being ruthless in business and wealthy beyond measure. With defeat weighing heavily on her grandfather, Isabel knew that Marc Santoro could offer access to his quarry allowing her to document the importance of the marble trade. The project would spark new life into her grandfather.
As she began to rehearse her carefully planned proposal in her mind, she tried hard to dispel the nervous feeling building in her stomach.
“It can’t be that bad.” The driver looked at her in the rearview mirror with compassion in his eyes.
“I beg your pardon?” Isabel forced herself to sit back and relax her shoulders. Was she that transparent? She reminded herself why this was so important. Her family’s connection to the past would be lost and her grandfather would be crushed if she didn’t convince Marc Santoro to grant her access.
“Most of his visitors look nervous. But be careful about showing too many of your cards. A poker face often works better in these situations.”
Isabel fought against a wave of anxiety as she considered Marc Santoro’s reputation as ruthless and seeking perfection. Her grandfather and his cronies wanted her to approach him even though he was known to shred his enemies without a qualm. How could she possibly succeed in getting him to grant her a favor?
Isabel smoothed down her dress. “Do you work for Mr. Santoro?”
“Not directly. My firm handles picking up guests, organizing repairs or handling the caretaking of many of the estates on the Vineyard,” the driver said in a relaxed tone.
