She wiped down the vacated tables, making sure they were spotless for the next patrons. One of the tables was occupied by a posh woman, with two little kids. The double pram was black and fancy-looking, like something out of an old black-and-white movie. The mother held a newborn to her breast as the little baby latched onto the nipple and drank heavily. The little girl, who couldn’t have been more than three, was eating her pastry. There was more chocolate on her face than in her mouth, but the child was grinning happily.
“Helene, try not to make a mess,” the mother chided softly with a smile.
The little girl giggled, smearing even more chocolate across her face.
Corinne, despite the fact that she had just sworn she would hold it together, felt her heart clench.
“Mom, park after? I wanna go on the big slide,” the sweet kid asked, licking her dirty little fingers. “Please, Mom?”
Out of nowhere—okay, maybe not out of nowhere, because pregnancy hormones are no fucking joke—Corinne sobbed, loud and sharp. It echoed in the busy plaza as she began to sob. She turned away from the storefront and tucked her chin down. If Jean-Pierre saw her crying, he would definitely fire her, and she needed this job now more than ever.
“Sweet girl, are you all right?” The woman’s silver hair was expertly twisted in a ‘do at the nape of her neck. Her green eyes were filled with concern, a hand to her chest. Corinne could have sworn she recognized the woman, somehow. It was probably just those damn green eyes. They reminded her of the man who would never know he had fathered a child with her.
Corinne felt her chin wobbling, and she ground her teeth down to try and stop the next sob that was threatening to come out of her. This was so not the place or time to have a meltdown about her pregnancy.
That was something you did in your apartment, over a tub of ice cream and the millionth viewing of Ghost.
“I…I’m…f-fine.” Of course, that would have been a hell of a lot more believable if Corinne hadn’t sobbed out the last words as big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
How her hormones were already so out of whack was beyond her. Corinne would have been the first to admit that she thought mothers put on a show about all the discomfort of pregnancy. Shit, she had been a real asshole to believe that. Two months into her nine-month stint, and she didn’t know how she would get through it all completely alone.
Damn Thomas, and his great, big dick and magical sperm.
The elegant woman gasped and rushed to her side, helping her into the seat she had just vacated. “You, my dear, are most assuredly not fine. Sit,” she instructed when Corinne tried to stand up.
“My b-boss will f-fire m-me,” she said through little sobs.
“He can try,” the woman said, shooting a warning glance toward Jean-Pierre, who had come out onto the terrace to glare at her.
“Now,” the fancy lady said, sitting back down across from her. She nudged her chocolate croissant toward Corinne. “You’re going to eat a bit and tell me what has got you so upset.”
Corinne shook her head. “It’s all good. I just need a second.”
“I can’t let you do that, dear. You’re entirely too distraught. Talking is good for the soul. Tell me your troubles, and you’ll see. You’ll feel better.”
The smile the woman gave Corinne was sweet and comforting. It reminded her of something a mother would do. She would so have liked to have a mother just then—someone who had been through pregnancy and motherhood to give her some tips.
Corinne thought about it for a few seconds.
Maybe the woman’s green eyes were a sign or something. It reminded her of her baby daddy so much, Corinne spilled the beans. She told the stranger everything.
Well, okay, not everything. She very well couldn't tell the woman that she had been raised by a criminal, who had groomed her to become one of the world’s most infamous artistic forgers. She couldn’t tell her that she was on the run because she didn’t want to break the law anymore.
But Corinne shared just enough to feel much lighter about the whole situation.
“You, my darling girl, are coming with me.”
And just like that, Corinne found herself staying with Johanna Warwick.
Chapter Six
Paris
Paris did not feel well.
He hadn’t felt like himself in two months.
That’s because you let our mate go, you bumbling moron.
He and his dragon were at war. Paris was sure he had done the right thing by letting Corinne go, while his beast was running a constant commentary that Paris was the biggest idiot in the world. The dragon loved to point out that Paris hadn’t painted or created anything since the night he had spent with Corinne.
Oh, he had been able to sketch notebook after notebook full of drawings.
It was always her.
Every. Single. Fucking. Sketch.
They were all of Corinne DuBois. His mate.
Why are you even staying away from her? His dragon asked for the millionth time. The damn beast knew why. It was better to stay away now, than to lose her one day when he was completely in love with her.
You’re already in love with her.
That wasn’t possible. One night spent in Corinne’s arms didn’t mean he was in love with her.
Then draw something else, dipshit.
Paris growled low in his throat and threatened the dragon that he would never shift and fly again, if he didn’t shut up about Corinne. She had been fine with their one-night deal. She hadn’t even tried to find him.
You gave her a fake name, asshole.
“Paris Thomas Flavio Warwick. Did you hear me?”
Johanna, his mother, was sitting in a large armchair, arms crossed, an elegant brow furrowed. She looked like a queen in her sitting room. The white material of her seat was a delicate contrast to the blood-red dress his mother wore. She might have been a silver-haired matriarch, but she was still every little bit of the fashionista she had been for centuries. He had never seen his mother with a hair out of place. She was staring him down, half with concern, half in annoyance.
He got that look a lot from her. All of his brothers did, too. Johanna would have benefited from having a couple of daughters, but instead, she had been stuck with three sons. Paris had hoped that she would ease off of him once her brothers had mates. No such luck.
“Oh, Paris. Really.” She pursed her lips at him.
“What?” he asked, with way too much attitude in his tone.
She arched a brow at him. “Have you been listening to me at all?” When he shook his head, she did the same. “You have been a horrible grump for the last two months. What happened, dear? Is it because your brothers are all paired up? Do you feel left out? You know, you need to go out into the world if you want to meet your mate.”
Paris harrumphed. “I don’t want to meet her.” There was no way he was telling Johanna that he had found Corinne and let her go. His mother was going to box his ears for sure if she found out. “I don’t need, or want a mate. I don’t have the time, nor do I have the inclination.”
You’re a damn liar, his dragon roared. I want to see Corinne. Now. Noooooow!
Paris ignored the beast, which caused a sharp jabbing pain in his head that leaked all the way down into his chest, right in the center of his chest.