Her daughter knew she had him twisted around her little finger.
After losing the argument, she had tried to get Abby to read two bedtime stories instead of one, in an effort to stall the sleeping process.
Now she was fast asleep. Abby felt the emotions storming through her as she stared at the beautiful child. Her hair was twisted to avoid knotting, the thick strands spread out over her pale pink pillows. Her long lashes made shadows on her coffee and cream complexion.
She was wearing her Barbie pajamas, the one with the pink and white lace at the front. Stroking a finger over the soft cheek, shestayed there for a minute before rising to go and turn on the night light.
Standing at the door, she gave her little girl one last look before heading through the connecting door to her suite of rooms.
She had some contracts and other documents to look over but was not in the frame of mind for work. The conversation with her mother had stirred her up.
She moved to her desk, but instead of opening her laptop, she paused by the window, gazing out into the moonlit garden. The stillness of the night brought a clarity she hadn't felt in days. She wondered if she was making the right choices for herself, for her daughter.
The weight of responsibility pressed on her shoulders, mingling with a deep, abiding love that made every decision feel so significant. Drawing in a steadying breath, she reminded herself that, like her daughter, she too was allowed moments of vulnerability. Maybe tomorrow would bring a solution, or at least a little peace.
Changing into a pair of comfortable sweats, she brushed her hair and twisted it into a neat bun before going into the small kitchen to grab a bottle of wine from the cooler.
Pouring a glass, she took it with her out on the balcony.
The air was cool against her skin, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the garden below. She wrapped her arms around herself, taking a slow sip and letting the quiet seep in. For a moment, she allowed her mind to drift, watching the soft silver light play across the dewy grass, letting herself simply be.
No decisions, no worries, just the soothing embrace of the night.
For the first time in years, she allowed the memories to come floating back.
Taking a sip, she eased her parched throat. Looking back, she wondered if she ever stood a chance. From the moment he decided she would be his next target, she had been doomed to fall like a ripe peach into his arms.
Humiliation and anger washed over her as she recalled how skillfully he had maneuvered her out of the crowded ballroom of the hotel and into the isolation of the garden. She had protested, but that had been token. She had never been proof against such stunningly potent seduction.
And yes, he had seduced her. With his looks, eyes and the way he touched her.
Over the years she had reflected on that night, wondering what she could have done differently. But then she would take one look at the daughter they had made and could not regret a moment of that night. Zoe was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she had him to thank for it.
With that thought settling her, she relaxed and allowed the beauty of the night to wash over her.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the gentle hum of the nighttime city drift up from the street below. A sense of bittersweet nostalgia crept over her, mingling with hope for what might still lie ahead. The complexity of her past no longer felt quite so daunting in the quiet sanctuary she'd carved out for herself tonight.
*****
This was the part of her career that she hated. The endless rounds of functions that beckoned the beginning of the festive season. She would have much preferred lying in bed with her daughter and reading one of their favorite classics.
But duty called. And it wasn't so bad. Her entire family was present and the best thing about it, Jillian was back from her stint with Doctors Without Borders. She had been away for the past six months and was sorely missed.
Now, plucking a glass of champagne from the passing waiter, she watched from across the room as Jillian and Andre sparred with each other. Shaking her head, she turned towards the woman who was trying to get her attention and spoke with her for a few minutes before wandering away.
The annual Authors' Guild included bestselling authors, editors, booksellers, publishers, actors and a scattering of movie producers. It was a combination of getting to know the other people who make up the industry as well as raising money for libraries all around the world. The focus was also on how to get children interested in reading.
She caught snippets of conversations about book launches, mentoring new voices, and the ever-evolving challenges facing the industry. The room buzzed with creative energy and a shared passion for storytelling, making her feel at once invigorated and slightly overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of talent assembled in one place.
Still, being surrounded by like-minded souls reminded her why she'd chosen this path in the first place, despite its many demands.
She supposed as patron of the function, the Tyrells had to be there. As they had been present for the last few years she had attended. She never expected to see him. Her first glimpse had her jolting and to her shame, ducking behind a sturdy white column, her hands shaking.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to weave her way through the throng of guests, shaking off the ones who persisted in having a conversation. She would leave. No dammit! She belonged here, much more than he did.
She had heard the whispers of course. How he was saving the doomed publishing house singlehandedly. How he had discovered several manuscripts and one was even being considered as a screenplay.
It did not matter, none of it did. She just had to stay away from him. From his family.
