Page 43 of Undeniably Corrupt (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires #7)

Damn him. I smile like the teenage girl all over again, but I go angsty and roll my eyes to show my disdain. “He’s possessive and protective.”

“Always will be, Angel. I make no apologies for that.”

“I hate that Alesha is a bitch and wants you.”

He smiles. “Still jealous of her, huh?”

I tug his hair. “Nope. Why would I be jealous? I mean, it’s not as though she’s an older, beautiful, smart woman or anything.”

“Glad to hear you’re not. She’s got nothing on you.”

“Better not.”

His neck arches up, and he kisses the corner of my lips. “You’re the one I want, Angel. No one else.”

With his hands in my hair, he brings my mouth back down to his, and he shows me once again how I’m the one he wants.

A loud bang wakes me from one of the deepest sleeps I’ve had in years. I jolt up and fall out of bed at the same time, tumbling to the floor in a mess of arms and legs. For a moment, I have no clue where I am, and with that, my heart pounds harder .

I search around and realize I’m on the floor in Vander’s bedroom.

Hazel. Shit. What time is it?

I drag myself up off the floor and slam my shin into the wooden side of the bed as I go. “Ow! Crap, crap! That freaking hurts.” I jump on my other leg and spin around to find Vander’s side empty. And the clock on his nightstand says… “Oh my God! How did I sleep till nine?”

I race out of his room and down the hall toward the stairs, forgetting my smarting shin. I’m about to round the banister and fly up to the third floor when a sound from the first floor stops me. A squeal. Hazel.

My feet carry me down the steps so fast I’m shocked I don’t fall. I follow the sound and come to a screeching halt when I find Vander at the stove and Hazel on the counter a safe distance away.

“You ready? Should we try again?”

“No!” she cries.

“You sure? I think I can do it this time.”

“No! You dropped two.”

“Third time’s a charm. Come on. Count with me. One, two, three!”

Hazel counts with him, and I watch as Vander double clutches the pan’s handle and flips a giant, oddly shaped pancake in the air and catches it—sorta—in the pan.

“Success!” Vander crows triumphantly. “See. Told you I could do it.”

Hazel applauds and wiggles a happy dance before she pushes herself back on the counter so she doesn’t fall.

“Careful,” he warns. “I can’t catch pancakes and you at the same time.”

“I’m good,” she singsongs.

“Good, because this one is ready.” He sets the pan down and shuts off the stove. “Here, let’s get you in your chair. You said blueberries and strawberries for Mickey’s face?”

“Please.”

I smile at the please, but it’s all I’ve got because everything else inside of me is busy squeezing my chest so tight I can hardly breathe. He picks Hazel up off the counter and carries her to a seat at the bar, and that’s when they catch me.

“Mommy!”

“Hey,” Vander chimes in after her. “Good morning.”

He takes me in from head to toe, his lips twitching while his eyes turn molten, and I realize it’s because in my wild panic and haste to find Hazel, I didn’t get dressed, and I’m still only wearing his T-shirt.

“We’re making pancakes.”

“Mickey pancakes,” Hazel corrects.

“Yes. Mickey pancakes.” He sets her down and walks over to me. “I hope this is okay. You were sound asleep when Hazel woke up, and I didn’t want to wake you. We needed a few things, so we went to Broadway Market. I would have asked, but again, you were asleep.”

“You went grocery shopping together?”

“Yes.”

“And you made her Mickey Mouse pancakes?”

“I can’t tell if you’re mad or about to cry.”

“Not mad.”

He smiles and leans in to kiss my forehead. “Come sit down, and I’ll make you one too.”

He takes my hand and leads me over to the seat beside Hazel. He throws her a wink and plates up a giant pancake with wonky-looking Mickey Mouse ears, but he puts two blueberries in it for the eyes and triangle strawberries in a half-circle for the mouth.

The entire masterpiece gets placed in front of her along with a sippy cup of milk and orange juice and real maple syrup that I immediately grab before she can, and I’m in love. I’m so freaking undeniably in love with Vander Moore.

It’s not the first time I’ve had these thoughts, but that was then, and this is now, and I love him.

Like I want him to do this exact same thing with our kids one day kind of love, and it terrifies me.

I’m not the girl who gets that. I’m the girl who lives by the skin of her teeth and is always watching over her shoulder.

“Mommy, do you want to cut that up for her while I make you one?”

I throw him a look for calling me Mommy, but I get to work on Hazel’s pancake so she can eat it.

“You like turkey bacon, right? Do you still not eat pork?”

I glance up mid-slice and wordlessly nod.

“Good. That’s what I got you. It’s in the oven and should be ready. There’s also coffee in the pot.”

When I was a kid, our neighbor had a pig that I fell in love with. Then I read Charlotte’s Web, and that was it for me. No pork products for this girl. But coffee I do.

Once Hazel’s good to go, armed with her Peppa Pig fork and more syrup on her pancake than I’d usually allow, I climb out of my chair and move in behind Vander, who’s back at the stove. I wrap my arms around him and rest the side of my face between his shoulder blades.

“You’re taller than you used to be.”

I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “A little maybe. Or you shrunk.”

“She’s going to fall in love with you.”

“Only her?” he asks softly as he flips the pancake, this time with a spatula.

I don’t answer him. I can’t. I have things to tell him that I can never tell him. And those things will forever keep us apart. I’m going to get hurt. I know this. I expect it. But I don’t want to hurt him too. And I’d rather die than hurt Hazel.

I kiss the spot my cheek was just resting on and pour myself a cup of coffee, needing a minute. He puts a giant plate of food in front of me, but before he can get away, I tug him down onto the seat beside me.

“Share this with me. There’s too much for just me.”

I cut up a piece and feed it to him first. He smirks at me as he takes a bite. “Making sure I didn’t poison you?”

I smile back. “I am now.”

He chews, and I lean in to kiss the sticky spot of syrup on the corner of his lips.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs like it’s no big thing. “Hazel and I had fun, right?”

She nods enthusiastically, but her mouth is too full to answer. We continue to eat, taking turns with the fork the same way we did with the cookie dough spoon.

He leans in and whispers, “How are you feeling? Sore?”

I blush a little but shake my head. “No. Not sore.”

I feel happy and safe, and those aren’t two things I ever thought I’d get.

Not at the same time. We finish eating, and I insist on cleaning everything up.

Vander goes up to shower, and Hazel and I dance and sing around the kitchen while I load up the dishwasher.

And it’s impossible not to wonder, not to hope, that this could be real.