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Silence blankets us and I try my hardest to swallow the tears down.
“We’re going to my father’s tomorrow for Christmas, like we planned. I have so much work to get done before I break up. And I know, I know,” he holds his hands up in defeat, “I always work but I wanted to make this Christmas special. Our first Christmas as a married couple and our wedding anniversary… I just thought…”
And suddenly guilt consumes me.
“I’m sorry,” I find myself whispering.
His hand reaches for mine and his thumb brushes along the back of it. A small smile slips on my lips before it gradually falls when he stands.
He says no more. Just walks out the room and doesn’t look back. Exhaling a shaky breath, I fall back into the pillows and lay for just a moment.
Christmas with his father. Klaus Morgan.
Tall. Broad. Tattoos. And devastatingly handsome.
If you found silver fox in the dictionary, Klaus would be there.
My sex aches at just the thought of him.
No, no. stop it.
I rush up, walk into our en-suite and slam the door behind me.
ChapterThree
The drive outto my father-in-law’s is long, slow and tediously boring. Stanley spends most of it with his earphones pushed in and on the phone working, so I do what I always do; I read. Escaping into the words of my book where my female lead is guaranteed to get sex. God, this woman has two men pining after her. A sugar daddy silver fox AND his son.
My skin prickles in goosebumps at just the thought.
“Lucky bitch,” I mumble and look out the window.
We live on the outskirts of London but Stanley’s father lives in the Cotswolds. It’s stunningly beautiful and I am looking forward to spending Christmas there in his barn conversion. It’s warm and homely.
Stanley pulls into the long and winding driveway and pulls into the carport. Cutting the engine, I sit and wait for him to get out but all he does is hold his finger up, indicating for me to wait.
I sigh, closing my kindle and opening my door. I am so mad at him. I don’t look back, just keep moving forward. He can get the bags and the presents for his father out of the boot. I need a glass of wine.
I lift my hand, ready to knock and ignoring the way my heart is racing in my chest but Klaus pulls the door open, his eyes raking up and down my body. I’m wearing a tartan mini skirt, black tights and a black bodysuit.
“Klaus,” I breathe, grateful my voice isn’t shaky.
“Belle, so lovely to see you,” his deep voice brushes goosebumps all over me and I blush. “Shame my son keeps you locked away and I only get to see you every now and then,” he steps aside and lets me in. I shrug my fitted coat off and he takes it from me, hanging it in the hallway. “Speaking of, where is he?”
“In the car, working,” I roll my eyes and continue forward into the kitchen.
“Workaholic that man, no idea where he gets it from,” Klaus smirks at me as he rests the palms of his hands on the cool, marbled worktop. His eyes lift to mine.
“You!” I giggle and perch my bum on the breakfast bar stool.
“Wish I could turn back the time,” he sighs, “all work… no play… caused my marriage to break down,” he tears his eyes from mine as he turns and opens the fridge.
Stan doesn’t talk much about his childhood. His parents had him young and Klaus worked all the hours he could to give him and his mother the life they deserved. Until it all got too much. He lost everything because of it and I’m worried—and I know he is too—that Stan is going to do the same.
I was young and naive, but I knew when a relationship was being tested and I fear the cracks are already starting to show in our newly wedded life. Stan is older than me, not overly, but still. He is thirty-four, Klaus is fifty-five which made him twenty-one when he became a father to Stan.
And here I am.
Twenty-eight.
