"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.