Her eyes fluttered open, lashes sweeping up like curtains, and she stretched with a soft moan. “Wow, B… you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.”
Of course I was.
Scarlett hadn’t been bad either. No, she didn’t possess Alina’s wild, magnetic fire—but she had potential. Raw clay, I could mold. I could teach her how to burn and make our nights tear through time.
Should I stay a while? Perhaps. Scarlett could be a distraction… a waystation while I hunted for Alina.
But we couldn’t stay in that wretched little apartment. The peeling walls. The stink of mildew. The futon. No.
I told her we were leaving it all behind—every last scrap.
Scarlett moved with me to a waterfront estate in Vancouver’s exclusive Jericho Park neighborhood. The previous owners had… “passed suddenly.” No heirs. No claims. No problems. I’d ensured that—and inhaled their souls for good measure.
The house was a masterpiece nestled in the lush, damp heart of the Pacific Northwest. Sunlight poured in through glass walls, and ivy curled around its edges like it had always belonged. The sleek and modern design was edged with natural warmth—wood, stone, and light. The kitchen gleamed with top-tier appliances. The bedrooms were spacious, basking in ocean views and golden morning light. The outdoor deck hovered over a manicured yard that rolled into the wild coast.
Not that I entertained.
This was no place for guests. This was a throne. And compared to Scarlett’s squalid little apartment, it was paradise.
We lived in relative harmony as Scarlett pursued her studies, and I continued my futile attempts to get close to Alina. Each failure brought with it a fresh wave of agony, as if some unseen force was determined to keep her just out of reach.
One morning, as I stood in my office gazing out at the manicured garden, lost in thought, Scarlett burst into the room.
“Balthazar!” Her voice carried the tremble of urgency.
I turned, already dreading what she might say. “What is it, my dear?”
Her hands twisted nervously in front of her. “I just got back from the women’s clinic… I—I’m so sorry. I’ve been using a diaphragm for birth control; I swear I have. But it failed. I’m pregnant.”
I stared at her, stunned. Her words echoed in my ears, muffled and unreal. I had indulged in the mess of her modern contraceptives, trusted the latex-and-gel contraption to do its job while I reveled in our wild, heated coupling. And now… she was pregnant?
“With whose child?” The words slipped from my mouth like venom.
Scarlett’s face went pale. Her voice rose in disbelief. “Yours, asshole! Are you seriously accusing me of sleeping around?”
I said nothing, but my glare was sharp enough to draw blood.
“I’m faithful to you,” she said, shaking now. “I don’t sleep around. I’m not that kind of person.” Her voice wavered. “But if you don’t want the baby… I understand. I’ll get rid of it. I’ll make an appointment at the clinic.”
“What did you say?” I growled.
“You know—an abortion,” she said quietly. “I’ll terminate the pregnancy. You don’t exactly scream ‘father of the year.’”
“No!” The word exploded from my chest like thunder. My eyes burned with fury. “What kind of people are you in this cursed century? You murder the innocent for convenience? Have you no soul? No honor?”
Scarlett flinched, her hand flying to her mouth.
Tears welled in my eyes—tears I hadn’t shed in years. “I’ll take care of the child,” I said, voice ragged with emotion. “You don’t have to lift a finger. You don’t even have to stay. Just… don’t take this from me. This is what I’ve prayed for. A second chance. A life I can protect.”
“You have?” Scarlett’s expression softened, her eyes glimmering with unexpected hope.
“Yes, Scarlett.” I stepped toward her and pulled her into my arms. “I’ve longed to rebuild what I lost. You’ve given me that chance. This is a gift.”
She leaned into me, but something weighed on her face. After a moment, she pulled away, her tone quiet but serious.
“Well,” she said, “I guess we’re having a child.” Then she hesitated. “And… I have news. About Alina.”
My pulse quickened. I narrowed my eyes. “What news?”
