Rush of Redemption

By: L.R. Potter


“He met with her today… at the museum,” the fierce-looking man told the man seated behind his massive desk.

The seated man, steepled his fingers in front of his face as he contemplated the information. “So… he knows about the baby?”

“Yes, sir.”

The seated man sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, causing the aged brown leather to creak. “That’s not good. Not good at all. He won’t be easily dissuaded. He’ll feel responsible towards her. He’s too much like his father that way.” The man scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the grooved lines which proved his age. “Keep a watch on him and see what happens. Who knows, maybe the situation will resolve itself.”

“Yes, sir,” the fierce-looking man responded before quickly exiting the room.

Rubbing his forefinger over his bottom lip, the seated man mumbled to himself, “I’ll never allow this to happen…”

Chapter One

A soft tickle against her face drew Trinity Grace from her slumber. Absently, she lifted a hand to brush against the annoyance. As the heavy cloak of sleep began to slip away, she became aware of the man pressed firmly against her back with his arm draped protectively over her protruding belly. She felt his breath blowing her dark hair gently against her face as he exhaled in his sleep. As she stared without seeing at the wall facing her, panic began to claw its way up her spine and flow down into the depths of her belly. She tensed against it, causing the unborn child nestled there to kick out in response. She felt the arm around her tighten further, trying to encompass and protect, she supposed, even in his sleep.

She shifted onto her back carefully so as not to wake him. Her breath caught in her throat, as it always did when she took in his austerely beautiful face. In sleep, his face was relaxed and his dark hair was mussed. His full, sensual lips were parted slightly, and past memories of what those lips could do to her made her shiver slightly. Those lips could cause such contrasting sensations, he’d used them to kiss her softly and to gently nudge her to open up to him; but he also used them to bruise her mouth when his need become frantic and wild. Just now, in this moment, she didn’t know which she preferred.

She longed to raise a hand and trace those lips and the beautiful lines of his god-like face, but she wanted to study him without his watchful, all-seeing eyes on her. She smiled in remembrance of the awe he’d exhibited when he’d felt the baby kick gently against his hand. How he’d fallen to his knees in the middle of the museum and had laid his cheek against her belly to feel it again. How he’d kissed her belly and whispered words of love and promised protection to their unborn son.

The immediate smile on her lips faded as darker thoughts began to skip across her mind. Like a slide projector, images of her past with him flickered across her memory: the day she’d first met him at the art gallery; then seeing him at the museum; the first time they’d made love in his club in Vail; him rushing back when her office at the gallery had been ransacked; the numerous times they’d made love in this bed, in the pool, and in the hot tub. Not that those thoughts were painful, they were just the precursor for the ones that were.

From there the pictures did became painful: the many times she’d woken in the hospital to find him by her side, only to have him tell her goodbye over and over again; the night at the charity ball when he’d shown up with a reigning beauty queen – the same night she’d discovered she was pregnant. She forced her mind to stop. She couldn’t go on, it was too painful. What had she done? She swallowed hard as torrents of emotions flooded her. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest. This was the man who’d deserted her when she’d needed him most. The man who’d ensnared her with false words and fake desire. How could she trust him?

Flashes of the pictures she’d seen of him in recent months in the society pages with a string of different woman crushed the air from her lungs. While she’d been left damaged and broken, he’d seemed to move on with ease. They meant nothing, he’d told her about the string of women. Was that what he’d tell whoever followed her… that she’d meant nothing? She swallowed hard at the thought of being so casually cast aside… yet again.