Page 44 of From West, With Regret (NYC Billionaires #2)

TWENTY-EIGHT

WEST

Besides grief, regret is the only emotion to stretch on forever.

London regaining her memory has turned my world upside down. We’ve spent the past several weeks exploring, relearning, and wrapped up in each other. Not as who we were since Heath’s death, but as who we would have been had we never separated the day she was adopted by the Walkers.

I’ve told London about my time in high school, the vacations the Halls took across the world, and how that sparked my passion to start my own business. I’d experienced more cultures in a few short years than I had my entire life before them.

London shared her love for the family that adopted her, and how they were what she clung to during the darkest of times. Then how she met my brother, fell for him, and married him.

It hurt to hear her tell that story, but I knew her love for him wasn’t true love. Not like the love we have. Heath lied, offered her a false sense of security, then took her for granted. He used her.

She felt she had no way out. His death opened the door to freedom, and she stepped through it.

There are no more secrets between us. No more gaps of lost time. We can’t change the past, and I can’t take back the regret I feel for letting London slip through my fingers time and time again, but we have forever to try.

Now, she’s here where she belongs, and I’m coming home to her.

We still haven’t figured out who it was that was following us after leaving Emily’s gallery.

After the first few nights of London regaining her memory, we tried to think of who it could possibly be but with no luck.

I asked Alden to investigate, telling him any details I could remember about the car that night, but he’s come up just as empty as I did.

Considering I haven’t seen the car since, I’ve let it go. For now.

My jet lands later in the afternoon than I expect, but my body is buzzing with impatience the entire drive home.

I tell Alden to step on the gas as hard as he can.

Spending one whole day in Texas was entirely too long and too far of a distance from her.

I’d asked London to go with me, but she wanted to spend time with her sister and her ailing grandmother, which I understood.

Alden manages to get us there sooner than I expect, then I’m racing out of the parking garage and up into the elevator. Before the lift has even reached my level, I hear London’s music.

Heart racing and dick jumping, I gnaw on the inside of my cheek and curl my fingers into a fist. My hands are aching to touch her. My mouth aching to taste her.

Once inside, I immediately search for my raven-haired girl.

“Dimples?” I yell, shrugging off my suit jacket. I toss it aside, then start working on my tie. Unbuttoning my collar, I step into the kitchen. My personal chef must have left a plate of fruit out for London to grab whenever she takes a break from work.

I grab a handful of grapes from the charcuterie board and carry them with me, following the music pouring from London’s studio upstairs.

Popping one into my mouth, I can’t help smiling as I grow closer, knowing when I step into the room, she’ll turn and look at me.

Not the me she met months ago.

The me she left that day at the foster home.

She’ll be looking at me as the Weston Knight she knew she loved, even at thirteen.

Our love was innocent back then, more a friendship than anything else, though I believe our love is stronger for it.

Through all the regret, the grief, and profound sense of never-ending loss, our love has transcended what I ever imagined possible.

Our love is greater than one experience in a lifetime.

It’s infinite. Transcending even past our lives here on earth.

London will be looking at me with all the memories of our love story alive in her eyes.

The door to her studio is cracked open, allowing the music to filter throughout my entire penthouse apartment. The breath is knocked from my lungs when I stop in the doorway, watching her.

Dancing. She’s dancing.

Leaning against the doorframe, I can’t help smiling as London stands in front of her large, wooden worktable.

Sheets of paper and art supplies are strewn about.

When shimmying her hips, her ass shakes to the beat.

I have no fucking clue what the song is or who sings it, but I’m silently thanking the artist for bringing joy to my girl’s life.

It’s a live version, the chants of the crowd heard loud behind the singer’s voices.

Stifling a chuckle, I press my fist to my mouth, sucking in my teeth.

The curves of London’s full ass peek out from the bottom of her torn jeans. They’re covered in streaks of charcoal. If I didn’t already know what caused them, you’d think she’d been digging in the dirt all day.

It’s funny how I only just saw her this morning, but it feels like it’s been ages. I flew halfway across the country and back in time to be home for dinner.

Her long hair sways across her back, fanning out as she spins around.

She shrieks and stumbles when she sees me. Falling backward, she catches herself on the edge of her worktable, and her mouth pulls into a wide grin.

Then she’s giving me the gift I’ve been waiting all day to see.

The look in her eyes alive with her memories of me.

I fight the urge to fall to me knees, and pop another grape into my mouth. It bursts, filling my mouth with sweetness.

“Like this song?” I ask her, smirking. She used to only listen to her music through her ear buds. Now, she hardly ever uses them. I like it because I get an inside peek into London’s music taste.

She grins. “You’re home.”

Fuck. I swallow, then pop another grape into my mouth before crossing the large studio. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I crash my mouth to hers and lift her up, setting her down on the table. I drop the few grapes I have left beside her.

Her arms and legs are immediately around me, pulling me close.

Rolling my hips, I push my stiff cock against her. I cradle the side of her face and pull back.

“How was Texas?” she asks, still smiling.

“Terrible.” I growl, against her ear. I breathe her in, and she tightens around me, goosebumps breaking out across her skin.

“Terrible?” She giggles. “Why?”

“You weren’t there. ”

“West.” She sighs, pushing me gently away from her. Her gray eyes meet mine. “I’m always with you.”

“It isn’t the same, Dimples. But I’m here now, so that’s all that matters.” I kiss her again before glancing over my shoulders at her work area. “How’s the last drawing coming?”

She cracks another small smile, unraveling her legs from around me. I back away, and she hops off the edge of the table. I have half a mind to stop her and bend her over the edge of the table right now, sinking my cock into her, but I bite the tip of my tongue instead.

She walks over to her easel and unclips the drawing held to it by a small metal clip. After handing it to me, she plants her hands on her hips. “It’s finished.”

It’s a sketch of Brooklyn. Specifically, my neighborhood. Recognizing the top of my building, I point to it. “Is that our place?”

Her cheeks redden, probably because I called it our place.

She nods. “Yeah.” Then she clears her throat. “I told you I only draw places that have meaning to me.”

I grin, thinking back to that day she’d first shown me her work. “You did.”

“It’s my home.” She lifts one shoulder. “Our home.”

Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I force them back. She never drew Heath’s place because she said it never felt like hers.

Now, she feels at home here. With me.

“This is the last piece, then?”

“Yep.” She pops the ‘p’ and points to the new portfolio she bought to store all the pieces she plans on displaying at the opening. “I would say, now that I’m finished, we can start planning the event, but Julianna and Charleigh might have already started taking over in that regard.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

A beautiful laugh escapes her. “You’d think Julianna would have gone into event planning more than interior design. Our group chat has been blowing up the past several days with her ideas.”

“I’m not surprised. I was going to hire an event cooridinator, but Julianna seems to have it covered. As long as you’re happy, then whatever you want is fine with me.” I eat another grape, never taking my eyes off London.

“I know. We’re thinking another month or so until the re-opening of The Veiled Door.”

I nod my agreement.

Her smile fades, then she looks around. “I guess that means we’re almost done here then, huh? My job creating pieces for your bar is finished.”

I narrow my gaze and take a step toward her. She steps back. The corner of her mouth lifts, and I want to steal the smirk from her with my own mouth.

“What was that?” I ask, swallowing my grape. I eat another one and take another step closer while she takes one back, testing me.

She giggles, tucking her long hair behind her ear. Her gold rings glint under the bright studio lights, revealing her heart-shaped birthmark.

“I don’t see a need to stay here any longer,” she jests. “I’m not needed anymore, so I can just head back to Boston once the reopening is finished, right?”

I know she’s teasing, but the idea of her leaving me injects urgency into my veins. The thought of her returning to Boston, in the shadows of her life as my brother’s wife, makes me physically ill.

Her teasing grin fades, and her chest stills as I close the gap between us. She’s no longer backing away from me.

“You aren’t going anywhere, Dimples,” I growl, slipping my arm around her again. I walk her backward until her back lands against the brick wall.

“No?” She tips her chin up, drunk on the love I’m giving her.

I shake my head and lean in, dragging my nose across her face, breathing her in like the starved man I am. Starving for her love. “No.” I feather my mouth over hers. “You’re mine forever.”