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As I apply my lipstick, my complicated feelings for James resurface. There’s no denying we have an intense sexual connection, but beyond that, what else is there? Do we have anything in common other than the fact that we share a child?
I hate that I’m even asking myself these questions. It’s not like I have room for complications right now, not with everything I’ve got on my plate. But James… he’s not just another guy. I can’t ignore the pull between us, no matter how hard I try. And that’s what scares me the most—letting him in. Letting him see the parts of me I’ve kept hidden. What if I let him too close, only to get burned in the end?
The questions grip me, and my hand falters, leaving a smudge of lipstick on my cheek. I quickly wipe it away, but the thought remains, heavier than before.
Then there’s the elephant in the room—Malta. Leo. How do I even bring that up?Hey, have you ever been to Europe? Oh, you have? That’s great! Fun fact, I spent some time in Malta. Oh, you did too? Here’s a story: I hooked up with a ridiculously hot guy one night and got pregnant. Pretty sure that guy was you. Surprise!
The thought makes my insides clench. I can’t tell him tonight. I can’t risk seeing his face twist in shock, then maybe fall in regret. What if he doesn’t want kids? Or what if he freaks out about the scandal of it all and rejects Leo? I don’t want to face it—not tonight. I’m not ready to share Leo with anyone—not even his father. Not yet.
The sound of small footsteps makes me smile, and I turn just as Leo bounds into the room. His wide brown eyes light up when he sees me all made up.
“You look so purty, Momma.”
I grin, crouching down to plant a big kiss on his forehead, leaving a perfect lip print behind.
“Ew, gross!” Leo scrunches his nose, trying to wipe the lipstick away with the back of his hand.
“Go see what Grandpa’s up to,” I say, gently nudging him toward the door.
Once he’s gone, I slip into my black lace lingerie—a matching bra and panty set, complete with garter belt and stockings—which I haven’t worn in ages. It feels strange and exhilarating all at once. I pull on an emerald satin dress, which leaves just the right amount of cleavage on display, and slide into my stilettos. When I look in the mirror, I can’t help but do a little happy dance. I feel… beautiful. Alive.
Stepping into the living room, I do a dramatic twirl for Dad and Leo, who are lounging on the couch.
“Wow, you look stunning, darling.” Dad rises to give me a warm hug.
“Momma!” Leo adds, his little voice filled with awe.
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in months. “Thanks, boys.”
Dad pulls back, holding me at arm’s length and looking me over with a soft smile. “Enjoy tonight. You deserve it. Don’t worry about anything.”
His words hit me harder than expected, making my throat tighten. I’ve been carrying such a big load these past few years—raising Leo, taking care of Dad through his illness, the financial stress. One night of freedom feels like a gift.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll try.” I blink back the sudden tears threatening to spill and give them both a playful warning. “Alright, behave yourselves and don’t stay up too late.”
Leo giggles, and they both respond in unison, “We won’t!”
Their cheeky smiles make my heart swell, and I leave the house excited for the chance to be a woman for a few precious hours.
***
When the driver drops me off in front of James’s gated mansion, I suck in a quiet breath. This isn’t just a mansion—it’s an estate. The kind you only see in movies or magazines. The gates swing open, and a man in a black suit seated in a golf cart greets me, introducing himself as security. He escorts me up the long driveway, and as we approach the house, my jaw goes slack.
Venetian-inspired architecture. Manicured gardens. Expansive views of the harbor. It’s all stunning. Overwhelming, even. I’ve stepped into a world where I don’t quite fit—a world of privilege.
As we near the entrance of the villa, I spot James waiting for me. Our eyes meet, and my breath escapes in a rush. He looks incredible—dark jeans, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his powerful forearms. His hair is slicked back, still damp from the shower, and the sight of him sends a flutter of nerves through me.
“Hey.” His smile is breathtaking as he reaches for my hand, helping me out of the cart. His eyes rake over me appreciatively. “You look gorgeous.”
I bite my lip, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “Don’t sound so surprised,” I tease.
“Not surprised. Just impressed.” He keeps my hand in his as we walk toward the villa. “Want a tour?” he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Oh my God, yes! This place is insane,” I reply, glancing around in awe.
James guides me around the estate, and I’m not sure what impresses me more—the grandeur of his home or the way he seems genuinely relaxed, like the weight he carries day in and day out has lightened. As we stroll through the lavish rooms, our hands remain clasped, his thumb brushing over mine in a way that feels intimate, natural. I steal glances at him, marveling at the softer side he’s letting me see. This isn’t the cold, guarded man I’ve gotten used to. This is someone else—someone kinder, more open, yet still exuding that undeniable dominance. This is my stranger from Malta.
The tour ends in the courtyard, where a table has been set up under the stars. The soft glow of candles casts a warm light over the scene, and I’m struck by how beautiful it all is.