“Madeline,” he said softly. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were special, but I had no idea how intelligent, how kind, how wonderful you would be. Creating this family with you has been the greatest gift a man could ever ask for, and I am asking you now to do me the greatest honor. Will you consider becoming my wife?”
Maddy stared at Akim, her eyes darting from his face, to the ring, then back again. She was prepared to give him her answer when she felt a very foreign, warm and wet sensation beneath her. Glancing around, she realized quickly what was happening.
“Akim. I’m going into labor!”
“What?” he asked. He shut the ring box and pocketed it quickly, instantly at her side. “Are you certain?”
Maddy forced herself to stay calm as she looked up at him. “Yes, my love. It’s time.”
“I’ll get the bag.”
They rushed to the hospital, which was only a few minutes away, and Akim held Maddy’s hand as the doctors performed a C-section to safely deliver the babies. As each one came out, they heard a tiny, healthy cry, and Maddy knew in that moment that she was a mother, four times over.
“Would you like to do skin-to-skin contact?” a nurse asked.
Maddy stared up at Akim. “I can’t fit all four on me, can I?”
Akim pulled his shirt off. “I can help. Just tell me what to do,” he said, looking expectantly at the nurse.
Each of them were handed two babies, and they stared in wonder at their new children. In mere minutes, they’d gone from an idea to a beautiful, perfect reality.
“Akim, they’re gorgeous,” Maddy breathed, staring at the two tiny newborns in her arms.
They had two sons and two daughters, when once Maddy believed she could have none. She had gone from being alone to being a mother of four in a family of six. It felt like magic, like she was living her very own fairy tale.
A short while after the delivery was over, Maddy was moved into a recovery room, and the babies were placed in small cribs next to their parents. Akim gently laid down next to Maddy, and they stared together at their children.
“You did wonderfully,” Akim said, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
“So did you,” Maddy replied with a tired smile.
“You managed to get these little folks into the world on the first try. I can only hope all the other couples who use Chlomerol have the same luck.”
“Me, too,” she whispered.
One of the babies fussed, and Akim stood, caressing his tiny head. The little one calmed down instantly at his father’s touch, so Akim returned to Maddy’s side.
“You know,” he began, casting her a sideways glance, “You never answered my question.”
“What question was that?” she asked hazily. Childbirth had taken all of her effort and brainpower. She imagined that what was known as ‘mommy brain’ would now permanently affect her, too. The thought of it broadened her smile.
Akim pulled out the little black box again, opening it to reveal the ring.
“This one,” he said.
Maddy took the box in her fingers and turned it in her hand. The ring was so beautiful. She looked up at Akim, and kissed him.
“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you, silly,” she said.
Akim kissed her deeply, then, though he pulled back shortly after. He was scared of hurting her after the surgery, and Maddy found his gentleness endearing. He had promised her once that he would take care of her and the children forever. She had had her doubts; she had struggled with trust, after the way he had acted in the past, but she no longer had a single doubt.
Taking the ring back from her, Akim removed it from the box and slid it onto her finger.
The End
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And now, as promised, are the first few chapters of my previous novel, The Tycoon’s Triplet Baby Surprise. Enjoy!
ONE
PROLOGUE
Eighteen-year-old Charlotte stood in her mother’s coat on the chilly Yale campus, her blond hair whizzing around her. It was an early fall day, late September, and her mother and father had dropped her at the campus with nonchalant kisses, telling her she’d “be just fine on her own.”
And she was. She always was.
She brought her coat closer around her, her eyes tracing the backs of her fellow seniors, each of whom was preparing to apply to go to Yale the following year. They were hopeful, working toward success with bright eyes and a constant air of panic and urgency. It was the way of the elitist academic. Charlotte knew this.
A girl she’d befriended earlier in the day leaned toward her. “I think we have just one more speaker,” she said, her voice coming harshly through the fall wind. “And then we should go grab a hot chocolate somewhere. I’m freezing! Can you imagine living here? So far north? It’s not anything like my home in Texas.” She gave a grimace.
“I think I can withstand the cold,” Charlotte said, laughing. “I just want to get accepted.”
“Oh, you will. You have that look about you,” the girl said, giving her a once-over.
Charlotte shivered, oddly nervous. She knew she was rather pretty, with long blond hair and a slender build, but she so often forgot this about herself—transplanting this image with one of her in the future, parading through the many entrapments of pre-law and then law school, on the road to success.
The crowd around her began to break out in applause, and Charlotte lifted herself on her toes, aching to see the final speaker. She could just barely catch the top of a dark head, tilted down as he marched across the stage and toward the podium. Surprised at herself, Charlotte snuck her elbow, then her shoulder, then her entire upper body between the snuggled high school seniors in front of her, finally catching full view of the dark-headed, confident, and alarmingly handsome man at the podium. He pushed his finger up the bridge of his nose, forcing his sunglasses back to his eyes.
He cleared his throat into the microphone, clearly unaccustomed to addressing large groups of people. As she looked at him, something within Charlotte sparked. Her ears strained at attention, her feet wobbled as she remained on her tiptoes, keeping her tall to maintain her view.
“Good afternoon,” the man began. He searched over the sea of heads, as if he were looking for something. It almost seemed that he made intimate, highlighted eye contact with Charlotte, but as he swiftly moved on, she sensed she was only daydreaming.
“Let me introduce myself, for those of you who don’t already know my name. Don’t be alarmed; most people at Yale don’t know my name, either… Anyway. Yes. Introduction.” He fluffed his hands through his dark, curly hair. “I’m Sean Lawson, and I’m from a small town in the Midwest. Growing up, I had almost nothing, just a skateboard and an affinity for computers. Which, naturally, led me to the tech world. Like many of you, I saw my future at Yale. And when I got my dream… well. I knew I wanted to do anything in my power to succeed.
“I’ve been chosen to speak to you this afternoon because I have a plan for a startup company, called InvestMe.”
Sean allowed the words to hang in the air. InvestMe. Some of the students began to pass the word around, eyeing each other. Was this a part of the Yale rhetoric? Should they be taking notes? Was someone going to send them a PowerPoint?
“InvestMe is something I’ve been working on for nearly two and a half years, first out of my dorm room, then the tiny college apartment I rented with my now ex-girlfriend and our cat. It’s just me and the cat, now.”
The audience began to laugh again. Charlotte found it curious the way he spoke about his life—so self-deprecating, despite how handsome he was. She wondered if he’d looked into a mirror recently; perhaps his mind was spinning too fast to get a true sense for how others perceived him. If this was the case, she could certainly relate. She’d lost herself in textbooks fo
r days at a time, only coming up for air when her stomach ached.
“Anyway. InvestMe is a venture that necessarily involves you—or your potential, that is. It is a venture capital site that allows young entrepreneurs to receive backing from investors. I know that sounds complicated and perhaps you’re asking yourself ‘Who in the world would want to invest in me?’ But I’m telling you. Fresh ideas are what make this world spin. And investors want your ideas. They want fresh blood. They want you.”
Several of the high school seniors began to roar with approval at his words. Charlotte’s eyes grew large. Sean’s passion for his work was radiating from him, giving him an incredibly alluring aura. She felt lust grasp her heart—she’d never been truly attracted to anyone before, and yet this man, who’d given up the typical college experience in order to fight for success, really captivated her. She had to close her mouth, noting that it was hanging open, her mind absorbing and memorizing his every syllable.
Sean continued, speaking about the mechanics of the program, about the long hours he’d put into it, and about how it was to be completed before his graduation in the spring. At that time, the moneymaking would probably begin.
He snapped his fingers, his face falling into faux-panic. “I mean, that’s the plan. Wish me luck. And if not, invite me to your parties, okay? Because I’m going to need something to do if it’s not this.” He laughed with ease, his eyes darting out across the crowd.
He finished the speech, and the presentation for the potential students ended. Charlotte’s temporary companion reached forward and grasped her shoulder, yanking it back lightly. “Hey! Are you ready for that hot chocolate?”
But Charlotte pushed forward in the crowd, giving the girl a quick goodbye. “Sorry!” she cried out, her heart jolting in her chest. An invisible force was leading her far from the crowd of high school students and toward the stage, where Sean Lawson stood chatting with several professors and other Yale hopefuls. She strung her fingers through her hair, noting the chilly wind had caused it to fluff out—she probably looked like a mess.
As she crept closer, Charlotte realized that several of the Yale hopefuls were gushing about Sean, just as she’d been, privately.
“Your speech was just incredible,” one boy said, sniffing, his glasses dwarfing his face. “I couldn’t get enough of it. You truly demonstrate your passion for technology. It’s inspiring for those of us who’ve never thrown a football.”
Sean laughed, clutching his stomach and leaning back. But as he took another step from the professors and youthful students, he was suddenly bombarded. A massive group of reporters and what seemed to be potential investors, all of them in smart suits, their noses high, swept toward him.
Microphones were lifted into Sean’s face. He looked like a deer caught in headlights—his face went pale and he stuttered, hearing 20 different questions thrown at him all at once. The tiny high-school senior who’d made the ‘nerds stick together’ joke looked dejected and began to walk away, his hope of becoming friends with Sean drowned out by reality.
Charlotte realized it, all at once: this man was going to be famous. He was going to be something special—a very important, very rich man. She swallowed at the prospect of it, thinking that she was viewing the sun on its trajectory through the sky. This was just the beginning of morning’s first light.
And she’d been foolish to think, even for a second, that he would speak with her. She remembered, her eyes darting around the scene, that she’d even wanted to ask him to grab a coffee. She’d imagined them seated in a cozy, Yale café, eyeing each other. He would be nervous, because she was pretty and young and vibrant; she would be nervous, because he was everything she yearned to be, on the precipice of something great.
Perhaps they would ease themselves into conversation. Perhaps they wouldn’t feel so lost in each other’s presence, as Charlotte so often did with her peers.
But naturally, her daydreams were fading as more and more cameramen pushed lenses close to Sean’s attractive face, and more and more suits surrounded him, pushing business cards. Sean looked taken aback—celebrity status was clearly not his aim. As he peered to the right, outside of the sea of ravenous men and women, his eyes stumbled upon Charlotte, who was unabashedly staring at him.