Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
“You sure you want to do this?” I ask as I look around. People hurry all around us. The show has already started. If that’s what it’s even called. When models walk a runway? I have no fucking clue.
“It’s my last one.” She shrugs. “It’s for a good cause,” she adds. I know it is, but still. Her final show is for the same charity she’d done work with before. The same one that she’s now helping with an animal rescue center back at home. The barn and everything else is still in construction but nearing completion in a few weeks. Then it will be filled with animals. My pretty girl is more than excited about it. I’ve never been so happy in my life than I have in these past six months.
Fara, the head of the charity, asked Mila to do one final show. It was some big deal or something, with designers donating things and so on. It’s intended to bring awareness to the cause. Fara also knew my Mila would bring the press with her. Everyone wanted into the event to see her. She’s been in hiding since everything had gone down. A few paparazzi tried to sneak on our land to get a picture of her, but they learned quickly that was never fucking happening.
I lean down, brushing my nose alone her hair and breathing her in. I drop my other hand to her small baby bump under her silk robe. I was told she’d be wearing something from a new designer maternity line and who was more than excited for Mila to wear the piece. He even made a huge donation for the pleasure.
“Just glad everything else is over.” She rests her head against my chest. It wasn't long after Kale was arrested that the shit hit the fan. All kinds of stories started to flood out about him and people spoke out about their experiences with him. He’s now sitting in a cell and will never see the outside of a prison again. If by some crazy chance he does get out, I’ll make sure he never makes it as far as what’s mine. I shake the dark thoughts from my head and focus on my girl.
“Me too.” I go in for a kiss, but she stops me.
“Lipstick.” She pushes at my chest, making me growl. Her only response is to laugh. “One walk down and I’m done. Then you can kiss me all you want, husband.” She winks at me and darts away. I fight myself to stand still and not chase after her. I look at the runway and do a little math in my head. It should only take her fifty seconds to walk the runway. I can do this for fifty seconds. I try to reassure myself.
She gives me little wave as she steps up to where she is supposed to enter the walkway. My body goes solid as she lets the robe fall open. It’s then I realize it’s not a fucking robe. It’s a swimsuit cover, and she has a tiny pink swimsuit on underneath. Her small baby bump is on full display. I growl and march towards her. Her eyes go wide, but she darts out onto the stage fighting a smile.
That little tease knows she’s going to get it. I head towards the stage and step up as I watch her sweet ass stroll down the runway. She stops at the end, and I hear catcalls and I’m done.
“Sir, you can’t go out there,” I hear someone yell from behind me like I give a fucking shit.
“It’s him,” I hear others say. Apparently I’ve become well-known as well. They’ve dubbed us the beauty and the beast since that first time I appeared in public with her. The story only grew from there. Then came the stories saying I keep her locked away and all to myself. This is partially true; she’s a willing captive. Either way, I still don’t fucking care what they say about me. All I care about is her and my baby inside of her.
“You see that baby bump?” someone else murmurs. That’s my fucking baby belly. I stop myself from snarling at everyone. It’s about to be clear in a moment anyway.
When my pretty girl turns and sees me behind her, her mouth falls open. I kiss her. Hard and deep. She wraps her arms around my neck and I lift her. “Don’t deny me what’s mine,” I grumble at her. She only smiles before throwing her head back and bursting into a fit of laughter.
Everyone cheers as I carry her down the runway into the backstage area.
“Fara, I’m sorry,” Mila says.
“Trust me. That was better than you just walking down the runway. This will be all over social media in a few minutes,” she laughs.