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She released a happy laugh. “Best weekend ever!”
I reached across the console and took her left hand. Lifting it to my lips, I kissed her knuckles. “Best life ever, Angel.”
“Yeah,” she said with a contented sigh, leaning her head back against the seat and staring at me through her lashes. When she looked at me like that, my entire body ached with need for her. “Best life ever.”
~The End~
Chapter 1
Arella
I startled awake, my heart pounding violently in my chest as I tried to catch my breath. A hand stroked over my hair and I screamed, before Jordan’s deep voice penetrated my sleep-fogged brain. Slowly, the panic began to ease, and I dropped my head back onto the pillow as tears spilled through my clenched-closed eyes.
Jordan turned me into him, tucking my head under his chin, and I clung to him as the memories from the nightmare tried to linger. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, love.”
Sniffling, I nodded against his chest, unable to speak yet. All I could think about was the feel of the knife against my abdomen, making me fear for my unborn baby’s life. Then against my neck when my bodyguard, Samuel, lifted his gun, demanding that Garon release me. The color of his eyes. The madness in those honey-brown depths.
The same as PopPop’s had been, minus the evil.
The same shade as my mom’s.
Eyes I’d once loved seeing light up with laughter now made me sick to my stomach if I looked into them for too long. It was hard to even look at Mom these days. To see the sadness and anger that still brewed in her just below the surface. She and her brother had never been close, and to find out he’d been the one who’d stalked me, sent me horrible things, even tried to put a video of me with Jordan on revenge porn sites. All of that made her hate the man she’d shared DNA with that much more.
She couldn’t possibly have hated him more than I did.
Garon Steel was dead, but the fear he’d instilled in me that day lingered, even if I tried to pretend it didn’t. If I kept busy, then I didn’t have to think about it, so I tried to keep moving as much as possible. With wedding plans, moving into a new house, and dealing with all the ups and downs of being pregnant, I had plenty to keep my mind occupied during my waking hours.
But when I closed my eyes to sleep, he came back to haunt me. There was no escaping him and the terror he’d inflicted in my dreams.
Jordan kissed the top of my head, his voice trying to soothe me. Normally it did, but for some reason, my panic still lingered. My heart rate didn’t completely go back to normal, staying slightly faster than usual as we lay in our bed while the sun slowly lifted into the sky. He tried to tell me it was okay, that there was nothing to fear. My own personal boogeyman was dead. Braxton had shot him. Garon’s brains had been in my hair, for fuck’s sake. There was no surviving having part of your head blown off.
But I still had the mark that would leave a scar on my abdomen and would always remain, just like the memories. Maybe if I was lucky, one day the nightmares would cease. But this wasn’t that day.
Eventually, our alarms went off, and I was almost relieved. I didn’t want to leave the safety of Jordan’s arms. His warmth was the only thing that kept me from trembling at times. But getting out of bed meant turning off the nightmares and focusing on the endless tasks of the day.
With a groan, Jordan rolled over to grab his phone and turn off his alarm. “I have a meeting with Winston Cline. Taylor will be here soon. Do you need anything?”
I sat up slowly, knowing that if I moved too quickly I would either vomit all over the bed or pass out. The joys of first trimester pregnancy were still new to me, but I was quickly learning how to manage the morning sickness and the occasional blood pressure changes. “Nah. Elliot is bringing me breakfast before we meet up with our moms and aunts. We all have our final dress fittings today.”
His eyes brightened. “Only one more week and I get to call you my wife.”
My laugh pushed away most of the lingering fear of the nightmare. “How is that any different from every other day?”
“You haven’t been paying attention,” he chided. “Right now, you are my bride. Your last name is still Stevenson. Very, very soon, you will have my last name. That’s a gigantic difference. Huge, actually.”
“Actually,” I reminded him, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. “I will still be Arella Stevenson when it comes to work.”
He stiffened over me. “You’re not changing your Screen Actors Guild name?”
“Nope.”
“Arella,” he growled, lowering his head until our noses barely grazed against each other. “You’re going to be my wife.”
“Jordan,” I mocked in the same tone. “You’re going to be producing my next movie. How much crap do you think I’m going to get in the press if I change my name and then suddenly show up as the lead in your new project?”
“Fuck the press.”
My own alarm went off, and he jerked to his feet. This was going to be a problem. I’d known it the moment I’d made the decision not to change my name for work. Jordan wanted me marked in every way as his, which I understood. My possessiveness of him knew no bounds. But on this, I had to remain firm. It wasn’t about him and me, but my career, something I’d worked my ass off to get to this point without help from my dad or anyone else in my family. It was mine and mine alone. My accomplishments. My success. Behind the scenes, I wanted to be Mrs. Jordan Moreitti. But in front of the camera, I needed to be Arella Stevenson.
