Double Huge:A Twin Stepbrother Romance(21)

"But what?" I demanded. "What is it?"

"But  … " she said softly. "We're still siblings. People will talk, and  there will always be rumors if we're together. And so  …  I'm not sure  what's next for us, but we can't go public, do you understand? I want  Georgie to have a sane and normal life, and that isn't possible if we're  together."

I shushed her with a deep kiss, letting my lips do the talking.

"Alana," I said. "I'm not sure how to fix this, but I refuse to let the  two of you just waltz out of my life again. I'll find a way. Do you hear  me? I will find a way to fix this. Just trust me on this."

She was quiet for an instant and then raised her hand to my cheek, stroking it softly.

"I know you will, Luke," she said, and gave me a gentle kiss of promise.  My heart turned over, and I determined to do my best by this wildflower  and her baby boy.



THE END

Read A Baby for My Billionaire Stepbrother, Part 5 next





Previously  …

The girl I'd called Wildflower had walked out on me two years ago,  leaving my bed empty and cold. I'd shuddered in her absence, my body  aching as my mind whirled with worthless thoughts. How could she have  done this? How could she have walked out on a relationship so caring,  loving and mutually respectful? My body ached each night in remembrance  of her warm, female heat.

But a chance encounter brought her back to me. Except this time the  blonde had a baby in tow, and one look at the child was a revelation.  His dark hair and grey eyes were a spitting image of me, from the top of  his head to the bottom of his toes. And no way was I going to let  Wildflower waltz off again without a battle this time  …  especially with  my child in her arms!





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Luke




I choked as I saw her walking down the aisle. She was so beautiful,  small and slim, yet elegant and dignified, projecting more class than a  queen. She wore a knee-length dress of white lace as we stood before the  podium, her smile warm and inviting as we turned to face the Justice of  Peace.

Finally! I had my wildflower where I wanted her. My beautiful girl was  about to become my bride. I wasn't taking any chances this time. After  her brush with death two weeks ago, I'd practically become her warden,  not letting her out of my sight, trailing her from room to room through  our apartment.

Seeing her lying in the hospital bed had caused my world to come  crashing down. I'd realized with sudden clarity that my life wasn't  worth living without her, that she was my everything. I'd confided my  love to her comatose form, and as luck would have it, my wildflower had  woken and forgiven me.

But there was still the unsettling problem of our family relationship.  You see, Wildflower and I are step-siblings. Her biological father,  Robert Woodson, is my stepfather, making us some fucked-up family. She'd  been reluctant to marry me at first, arguing that our son Georgie would  always be tainted by the smear of incest, but I'd steamrolled her. I'd  insisted, arguing that Georgie would benefit from a stable home with two  parents who loved him. Beneath my onslaught of words and mindblowing  sex, I'd overcome Wildflower's defenses and here we were, at the altar  at last.

The rush to City Hall was my doing. As soon as she'd said yes this  morning, I'd booked an appointment with the magistrate, intent on  legitimizing our union  asap. I wasn't taking any chances. She was  going to be mine, physically, emotionally, and legally. I'd whipped out  the ivory dress from her closet and almost dressed her in it myself.         

     



 

She'd laughed when she'd seen how eager I was.

"Luke," she gasped breathlessly. "There's no rush, I'm not going anywhere."

"Baby, I can't wait," I'd growled. "I've spent two years apart from you,  and I almost just lost you again because of that stupid event. I'm so  sorry," I murmured, burying my face in her hair. "I want you to be Mrs.  Miller asap."

She'd stroked my hair comfortingly, murmuring, "Okay, we'll go this  afternoon then. Don't we have to find our birth certificates or  something?"

"I've got all that covered," I said. "I had my staff look up your records and everything's taken care of."

She pulled back. "My birth certificate?" she said curiously. "Really? You were able to locate it?"

"Sure, why not?" I said. "You were born in Queens, right?"

She bowed her head. "Yes, but  …  I've never even seen my birth  certificate. My mom was terrible with records, so I've always just  trusted that my name is Alana Johnson. It could be Wildflower Jones for  all I know," she teased.

"But how did you enroll in school and get all that legal stuff done?" I asked, nonplussed.

She shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I guess my mom was able to finagle  it somehow. A student ID turned into a driver's license, and I never  needed more than that. I've never travelled internationally, you see,"  she said shyly. "So I've never needed a passport."

I growled. That was about to change. I was a rich man and was going to  shower all of my resources on Wildflower and my son, including  international travel on my private jet, staying in the best hotels, and  enjoying luxuries they'd never had. Okay, so she was practically an  undocumented immigrant, but she was my undocumented immigrant and I was  about to make her mine  …  forever.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Alana




He was so handsome, brooding and dark, standing at the altar. He was  staring at me so hard that my heart skipped a beat and my cheeks  flushed. I knew I'd always feel this way about him, always had and  always will.

With his raven hair and black suit, I knew I'd lucked out  –  how many  women got to marry their Prince Charming who was loving, handsome and  rich to boot? But his money made no difference to me. I would have  married him even if he'd been a pauper. The blue eyes glued to my form  as I moved up the aisle made me grow hot again. How had I landed a  husband so persuasive, magnetic, and charismatic?

The truth was, I wasn't sure. Luke had swept me off my feet when I was  nineteen, and since then life hadn't been the same. Our first weeks  together had been like a fairytale, but when I'd discovered that we were  related, I'd fled without a word, not wanting to taint him with the  rumor of incest. He was a powerful man, and a favorite of gossip  columns. They'd have a field day if they knew Luke was dating his  stepsister.

Of course, it'd been too late  …  I was already pregnant with Georgie when  I'd left. But secretly, I'd been gloriously happy knowing that I'd have  a reminder of my dark, handsome lover for the rest of my life.

And Georgie was the image of his father. So much so that when Luke had  stumbled upon us two years later, he'd immediately recognized himself  stamped in Georgie's features, a paternity that could not be denied.

And so here we were. The three of us were going to be family now in the  eyes of the law. I was overflowing with happiness, so much so that I  felt light-headed standing before the minister, my smile a ray of light.

The issue of incest still bedeviled me though. Luke was a powerful man,  and our father was an aspiring politician. Robert Woodson was gearing up  for a run for Senate, and how would it look if it got out that his  daughter and stepson were lovers? Not just lovers, but married with a  son? It could destroy his campaign.

Plus, I wanted the best for Georgie, and still wasn't sure how this was  going to work out  …  living in New York was almost not an option.  Everyone knew the Woodson's, they were a prominent family. I sighed,  trying to clear my head. No matter what, I would always have Luke, and  we would stick together through thick and thin.         

     



 

The minister cleared his throat and began his sonorous rumblings.

"Does anyone here know why I should not join this man and woman in marriage today?" he declared.

Given that it was only Luke, myself, and the wedding photographer, there  was blessed silence. The minister started moving onto the next portion  of the ceremony when suddenly the door burst open and Sabrina stood at  the entryway.

"Stop!" she shrieked, "She's a slut!" she exclaimed, pointing at me, a  piece of paper clutched in her hand. Both Luke and I turned, me  trembling and him audibly growling at the interruption.

"What the fuck?" he roared. Sabrina was a woman he'd dated during our  two years apart. Although I'd been celibate, Luke evidently had taken up  with a string of women. He'd promised me that it was nothing but sex,  and I believed him. After all, he was a man with needs and I could  hardly deny his virility.

But Sabrina was hard to ignore. Gorgeous, five foot eleven, with emerald  green eyes and a lithe figure, she'd somehow developed the impression  that Luke was going to marry her. He'd assured me that this was  delusional on her part. They'd gone out a few times, but there had  certainly been no talk of marriage or even anything more serious than  the next date.