One time became another… and then another.
Until it didn't feel like a mistake anymore. Infact they had fucked every chance they got.
Clarisse blinked, the memory fading as she returned to the present.
Nothing about this was going the way she had planned.
Not the pregnancy.
Not Alex.
And definitely not the storm she had just stepped into. She had to find a way to convince Alex to forget about the baby. At least for now.
But how?
....
Somewhere at the shipping yard, a woman sat in a white Porsche, the tinted windows cutting off the rest of the world.
She was pretty and had on a very deep red lipstick. She tapped her stylus against the tablet screen, watching the live GPS feed of Julian's car. A small, cold smile touched her lips.
"He's back at the house," she murmured to herself.
She took a slow sip of her wine, her deep red lipstick staining the glass. She had a file open on the screen — a file on Lyvana Montclair.
A message appeared.
