Crazy for Loving You: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(75)

Remy half-coos in his sleep.

Daisy picks up the pace, and soon we’re rounding the top of the D and coming to a stop at the wall at the end of the corridor.

Logically, I know her bedroom is on the other side of that wall.

Practically, we’re at a dead end.

She flashes a grin back at me. “Want to see something cool?”

Without waiting for an answer, she leans into the corner.

There’s a subtle click, and a secret door opens.

“Okay, yeah, that’s cool.” I follow her inside, but we’re not in her bedroom. We’re in a massive library.

Rather than the typical billionaire home library with dark shelves and leather-bound books and priceless artwork, though, Daisy’s library has watercolors I don’t recognize and white shelves filled with worn paperbacks. These books have been read. And loved. I angle closer, looking at the titles.

Romance novels.

My sisters are going to love her.

If she’s serious. If she’ll let me stay in Remy’s life.

If this thing I’m feeling is mutual.

I’m attached, and I don’t want to get unattached. And legally speaking, I don’t have to.

I can be a part of Remy’s life. Forever.

“Have you read all of these?” I ask.

“All but those.” She points to the shelves around the white marble fireplace. “I spend a lot of time on airplanes, and sometimes I can’t sleep after business calls around the world in the middle of the night, so I…anyway. It’s my little secret.”

“That you read romance novels?”

“That I read.” She grins and winks, but I don’t believe for a second that she hasn’t been impacted by people’s opinions of her.

I turn away from the shelves and take stock of the rest of the room, because the idea of Daisy as a secret romantic who spends hours in here, reading and dreaming of finding her Prince Charming is too much to handle tonight.

I’ve hoped before.

Hoped, and loved, and lost.

With women who weren’t the fascinating, intricate puzzle that is Daisy Imogen Carter-Kincaid.

The rest of her library is exquisite. Pine wood flooring. Overstuffed chairs the color of the ocean. A fresco ceiling painted with a young girl dancing with unicorns. Daisies worked into the wide plaster trim along the ceiling and around the doorways. Little touches of femininity everywhere, from the heart-shaped sconces on the plaster wall to the delicate pink glass flowers on the white marble fireplace mantle.

No windows here—and I wonder if there’s another hidden door that leads outside somewhere.

“Why do people in south Florida need fireplaces?” I ask.

“Sometimes it gets below sixty.” She tiptoes beside me on bare feet. “Here. Let me have this little guy. I need snuggles.”

I could give her snuggles.

I’d like to give her snuggles. Naked snuggles on that fuzzy white rug in front of the fireplace. With my cock rocking against her pussy.

I clear my throat and hand her the baby, who curls into her chest and sighs happily while she smiles softly at him.

Seriously.

Easiest baby ever. Even with all of the movement, he’s stayed asleep.

He’ll be up again and hungry in an hour or two, but for now, he’s blissed out and happy.

“Sit.” Daisy waves at one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.

I oblige, and I have to concentrate hard on not appreciating the curve of her breasts and hips in that get-up.

She grabs her phone from a decorative table near the door, then crosses back to me. Instead of taking the other seat, she settles into my lap while thunder rolls outside.

My arms go around her, my nuts cheer, and when she looks at me, I want to kiss her.

“Hi,” I say softly.

She shifts Remy across her breasts and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Good evening, my gallant chair. I need to show you something.”

“I’d be a lot happier about that sentiment if you weren’t holding a baby.”

“Westley Jaeger, are you thinking dirty thoughts about me?”

“Only some are dirty.”

She smiles, and it’s brighter and more dazzling than lightning on the ocean, and an order of magnitude more dangerous. “Here. You need to watch this.”

She shifts in my lap, swipes her thumb over the phone, and stops on a video in her text messages, which she enlarges to the full screen. She hits play, then hands me the phone to hold while we both watch.

It’s dim, like it’s being shot at night, with little specks of light floating across the screen.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Shh.”

A shadow moves into the frame, and I realize I’m staring at—oh, fuck.

Seriously?

It’s a crystal ball.

“Ah, yes. Julienne. I knew you’d be coming. Your husband has been unfaithful again.” The first voice is low and raspy, and it makes my hairs stand on end.

“Doesn’t take a psychic to read the gossip pages, Becky. I’m well aware of what he’s been doing while I’m growing our baby.”

Hearing Julienne’s voice puts a hitch in my shoulders. Daisy shivers, and I pull her closer. She’s soft and curvy and fits perfectly, and I don’t want to move. Don’t want to watch the rest of this video either, because the creepy-crawlies dancing up my spine are warning me that whatever it is, it’ll change everything.