“Rayne, for queen,” Scarlett says without emotion as she’s been given oxygen and a Valium for her stress.
Rayne.I don't hate the name; in fact, it is quite beautiful. Fitting for a child as stunning as her mother. But I am not ready to give Scarlett my enthusiastic approval. No, everything Scarlett gets from me has to be earned. I am sacrificing my life for her.
“Did you think of a middle name?” I try to look and sound bored.
“Maria,” she says softly.
“For my sister,” I clarify.
“Yes.” God, the two of them care so much for each other.
“I want to give her a name.” Scarlett rears back, about to strike, but I hold my ground.
“In our family, we give babies four names. I’m Beckett Alexander Hayden Myers. I want her third name to be Alexis. We give Alexander as a second name to all first-born children in the Myers family. Since she will be my only child, I want to honor my family’s tradition. Rayne Maria Alexis. My family will understand the less-than-ideal placement as she is already being named after a family member, though I will admit that Mia is not often discussed.”
In truth, my illegitimate sister is never mentioned, and I dare anyone who knows me to bring it up. My father was a womanizing pig. I saw how his treatment of his wife and mistresses affected his business. While he still made plenty of money, his standing in the communitywas less than reputable. I have to be impeccable. I am the savior. I am the hope for the world. This is why I want the world to know that I have been in love with Scarlett for years, and thus I will be bringing her and my sister out of the shadows and into the limelight.
I happen to know that Mia is not happy about this. In the brief conversation we had while Scarlett was asleep, she let me know how mad she is about the whole thing. Her past trauma, however, is not my concern. I don't care. We are all in this together, and we will stay the course. I have money, I have a reputation, and I have plans in place. Neither Scarlett nor Mia will be impeding my future. One day my daughter will take up the reins and be the next Myers legacy. I will train her how to walk in my footsteps, and neither her mother nor her aunt will stop me.
“Where do you want me to put my things?” Scarlett asks when she arrives at my home.
She is holding an assortment of flowers, baby toys, and gifts brought to the hospital by her college friends and the bouncer from the catering company. A nanny has already taken Rayne to the nursery. I refuse to let Scarlett carry her until I am sure she is fully healed. She can sit in a chair and hold our daughter, but nothing else.
“Your room is this way.” I try to carry as many of her gifts as I can, but she is well-loved, and they are overflowing… another problem I’ll have to solve.
I move Scarlett into the room next to mine. That room was meant to be for a butler or personal servant, but since I don't like having people that close, it was vacant. I do have a butler, but he stays on the main floor, as do the housekeeper and the chef. I’ve also hired a nanny for the baby and a nurse for Scarlett since I am not going to allow her to do much in her condition.
“This is mine?” Scarlett asks when I open the door to the room with a sweeping view of Manhattan.
My penthouse is at the top of a modern building with a doorman and a restaurant that I order from on occasion. I have seven bedrooms, two offices, two living rooms, a formal and an informal dining room,a chef’s kitchen with a butler's pantry, and servants' quarters. It encompasses three stories and has a private rooftop garden. Mia’s apartment is two floors down. Her loft is a little more modest, as it was where my mother was housed during her convalescence with cancer. My father owned the loft but never lived there. It is certainly big enough for one person. And as much as I don’t want a family, my penthouse is sprawling, which ensures we’ll see very little of one another.
Despite not wanting Scarlett, Iwanther. She is still so fucking gorgeous even after her pregnancy. Dancers must have the most resilient muscle memory because, nearly a month postpartum, she is almost back to her original figure. Granted, pregnancy has forever changed her; she has more womanly hips and fuller breasts, but I actually enjoy that she is more robust.
“Of course this is yours.” I am already becoming irritated. “I have rules. We can discuss them after you've settled in. Since we are cohabiting with one another, there will be times when I will want you to stay in your place.”
“Stay in my place?” She glares at me after setting her flowers on the dresser. “Did you marry a woman or adopt a dog from the shelter?”
“That distinction will be on you,” I say.
She is so fucking feisty. Any woman in their right mind would be thrilled to marry a billionaire, especially one as esteemed as I. Does she not realize that I could just as easily have sent her off to Timbuktu?
“You know, you really are an asshole,” she throws back at me. “That night at the Waldorf, I thought for a second you were actually kind of decent. I didn’t take your money because I wanted it to just be a night with a man. I lost my virginity; that was monumental enough. When I walked out of there with nothing, I was just a woman and you were just a man. A dashing, beautiful man in a gold rooster mask, but that was all. I kept my dignity.”
“And my baby,” I interrupt her.
“I couldn’t do it, okay? I was there on the table with the nurse, and she had her head between my legs. I'd been advised by a social worker and given a list of things to expect and papers to sign. I wasthis closetoending her life…” Scarlett starts crying and looks shaky on her feet. “Now I’m going to be less than you for the rest of my life when all I wanted was dignity and respect.” She starts sobbing. “But now I have a baby, and I’m glad she’s here. She will always be worth whatever humiliation and degradation you plan on throwing at me.”
Well, that was honest.
I walk over to Scarlett, knowing that she is emotional. She's been through a devastating accident and is probably experiencing some postpartum depression. She is also likely still in pain, but she is right. I’ve never been anything but an absolute asshole; that can’t be disputed. I steer her to a chair near the picture window with the view of the city below. I then rake her hair out of her eyes and look into those deep blue irises.
“I’ll have the nurse bring Rayne to you. I’m sure it’s almost time for her to breastfeed. I don’t want you getting out of this chair. Most of my rules are going to be for your safety and well-being. You aren’t going to be less than me, Scarlett, and I have no plans to humiliate you. You’re the mother of my child, and you’ll always be that.”
She nods and turns away. I can't do better for her than that, so I leave and tell the nurse to bring the baby to her. I don't think she is well enough to have the baby sleep in her room, so I have Rayne moved to the nursery across the hall. I have plenty of rooms on the second floor of my penthouse, and I’ve had a designer come in and quickly create a pink floral baby room befitting a princess. I didn't actually look at the designs or care about them, and Scarlett was too sick to actually approve anything, so I just left it up to my designer to create.
I have to get out of there, so I go to Sonny's to meet the Quattro. We usually try to see one another once a month, and this is our monthly hangout. I actually am desperate for their company. I sit at the table eating Wagyu burgers and truffle fries with my friends, feeling the slightest bit more like myself.
“Mother-fucking Married Mr. Myers.” Griffin lays it on thick. “Married. Mr. I’m-Never-Getting-Married Myers.” He laughs.
