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Henry
Henry lay staring at the ceiling trying to figure out what Helen Carrington could possibly feel was important enough to wake him at the ungodly hour of 4:00 a.m. She’d been reluctant to divulge the details in her impromptu text, leaving him no other choice than to grudgingly concede to her request. Luckily, his assistant was an early riser and agreed to report to work an hour earlier than regularly scheduled. There was no way Henry would meet with the cougar alone.
Nestled at his side, the woman of his dreams slept peacefully. Her long, blonde hair was tousled from their lovemaking, splayed thick across his chest. Ever so gently, he stroked his hand down Victoria’s soft, smooth back, his brows furrowing at the coolness of her skin. Carefully, Henry pulled the blanket below her chin to keep her warm.
There was something so very right about spending the night in Victoria’s bed. Waking up with her sleeping in his arms was a luxury he yearned to grow used to. Damn fool! What had he been thinking to agree to Helen’s unexpected summons? What could possibly have transpired in the few hours since last night’s dinner meeting with Helen and Senator Murdoch?
He peered at the bedside table, noting the time on the digital clock. The idea of leaving did little for his disposition, but if he ever expected a future with Victoria Hathaway, it had to be done. Helen Carrington wasn’t the only one who needed to talk. Henry had a few things to discuss as well. Mainly, his increasing desire to halt the construction project.
Quietly, he padded toward the attached bathroom and took a quick shower. A few minutes later, he stood at the foot of the bed. Victoria breathed shallowly, her fingers curled delicately against the vacant indentation where he once slept. I promise, Goldilocks. I’m going to make things right, Henry silently vowed before exiting the room.
Victoria
Victoria stretched, sighing contently. She clutched the blanket beneath her chin and twisted onto her side. Her eyes flew open as her fingers met with the cold, rumpled sheet. Scrambling into a seated position, Victoria squinted into the dimly lit room, her heart skipping a beat. “Henry?”
A torrent of emotions roared within her, crashing into an internal cyclone. How could she have been such a fool? Shame...rage...pain each took its turn to chastise her when Henry didn’t answer. Bile rose in her throat as she recalled their vigorous lovemaking on her couch. Shamelessly, it hadn’t been enough to sate her. She’d lured him lasciviously into her bed, only thinking of her own carnal pleasure. The toxicity of her desire for Henry had clouded her judgment, taking over her sense of reason. This was all her fault. She deserved whatever happened to her. She’d pay an ultimate price for her sordid lust—for her enemy! Victoria deserved to lose her home, but Jennifer...
A wounded sob escaped from her throat. Her actions impacted Jennifer as well. If they lost the Literary Ladies’ Book Nook and Café—the business they’d painstakingly built together—it would be all her fault. Victoria would have to learn to live with the consequences of her own recklessness. But Jennifer—she was an innocent victim caught in the crossfire. It would tear Victoria’s heart out to know she was the reason her best friend suffered.
Tears streaked down her face. Wiping the back of her hand across her cheek, Victoria leaned over the mattress and reached to get a tissue from the bedside table. Her name had been scribbled on a folded sheet propped against a rectangular box. Bewildered, she picked it up and positioned it onto her lap, a fingertip stroking over the baby blue and pink branded box. She unfolded the paper and sucked in a breath, overwhelmed as she read the note.
Dearest Victoria,
Reluctantly, I must tear myself away. You looked so peaceful that I couldn’t bear to wake you. Please forgive me for leaving you as though I were a thief in the night. I have an urgent matter that I must deal with, one that may fix everything. It will absorb most of my waking hours between now and the town council meeting. But believe me, you’ll always be in the forefront of my mind.
Already missing you,
Henry
P.S. Open the box, my love.
My love? Victoria’s eyes traveled over the cryptic message again. What was Henry trying to tell her? He said he was going to fix everything. How? Her breathing shallowed. Had he meant to abandon the construction project? No. He wouldn’t, would he? If he did, he’d have come to Newport for naught.
Back ramrod straight, Victoria sat in the middle of her bed, the box still closed on her lap. Carefully, she lifted the lid and pushed the pink tissue paper aside. A hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening as she stared down. Inside the box was a Madame Alexander doll. Dressed as an angel, the pink satin gown was adorned with white lace and white roses around the neckline and multi-layers of matching white lace underskirts. The doll’s long, blonde hair had been swept to the side and styled into ringlets that cascaded over her shoulder.
In all the years she’d spent with David, he’d never given her such a thoughtful gift. He’d thought her fondness for dolls silly and frivolous, neglecting the intimacy of sharing in one of her passions. The corners of her lips quirked up forming a smile as she recalled the day Henry strode, soaking wet with an equally drenched golden retriever by his side, into the Literary Ladies’ Book Nook and Café. Livid as the pair dripped water onto the newly installed carpeting, she’d been annoyed by his interest in her Madame Alexander dolls, thinking his curiosity was merely a ploy to gain her trust.
Now, she realized she’d been wrong. This doll was more than a present; it was a gift from Henry’s heart.