He looks absolutely and utterly relaxed. He looks at peace.
And I’m not sure if I’m about to ruin that peace or not.
“Blaise,” I say again, and I’m unable to stop grinning.
He turns and lifts up his shades to get a better look at me, and that’s all it takes.
He knew I was taking the test, knew I had missed my period.
Knew we had been pretty reckless with unprotected sex from the start.
But even so, I didn’t know how he’d react.
Hell, I didn’t know how I’d react.
I didn’t even think about having children when I was with Cyril. It didn’t seem right. I was so scared and so worried that we would have a child and it would end up just like me. That something would happen to us, that he would leave and I would die, and then our beloved would end up in an orphanage, going through the same things I did.
But of course, I came to realize it was because I wasn’t in love. I didn’t love Cyril, and even though his cheating was a shock, I saw it coming. My subconscious knew this wasn’t a man to have children with.
And then came Blaise. Blaise, for all intents and purposes, should have never looked at me like he first did, and I him. He was my cousin. We were family from opposite sides of a perceived moral compass. We never should have had feelings for each other at all.
There’s a reason I’m using past tense.
Because he’s no longer my cousin.
He’s just my man.
And I’m just his woman.
And even though I still am proud to call myself Seraphine Dumont, even though I once was Jamillah Bains, he doesn’t consider himself his father’s son.
So we are family to each other more than our family, more than the bloodlines and backstabbing could have ever controlled.
“You’re kidding me,” he says, mouth agape, eyes wide and shining.
To see Blaise happy is the most beautiful, humbling sight in the world.
I had never seen him happy for the sixteen years I’d known him until we moved to Dubai.
Once here, once in the heat and the sunshine and the desert air, I could see the grime and stress of Paris melt off his body. There was a reason he’d always gravitated to places like Thailand and Bali. The sun brings out his soul.
“I’m not kidding,” I tell him, holding out the test. “Two lines. It means I’m pregnant!”
He whoops and hollers joyfully and pulls me into a tight embrace, crying now, grinning, kissing me. “I can’t believe it. I’m going to be a father.”
“You’re going to be a great father,” I say against his mouth, feeling every single emotion known to mankind flood through my body.
I can’t believe it.
It’s like, until this moment, I never knew what I really wanted from life. I worked hard, and I did what I could to make sure I deserved the life I was given, but even so, I didn’t know what I wanted. It wasn’t the money or the fame or the power that came with the name I was gifted.
It was this.
It was a future.
It was love.
It was creating a life and sharing a life of love.
And I found it with this man.
I grab his face in my hands and kiss his forehead, his soft eyelids, his pretty lashes, his high cheekbones. I kiss him all over, and I laugh and laugh and laugh because I’ve never been so happy.
He holds me tight and brings me off the ground, swinging me around like we’re two teenagers in love. Maybe that’s what we still are, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
This is my world.
And it just became a world of three.
“What do we do now?” he asks as he lowers me to the ground. “Do you have to tell your boss? Or will she let it slide?”
I grin at him and smack him across the chest.
I am my own boss.
Oh, I’m not working for the Dumont label. I took advantage of the transfer that Pascal orchestrated—anything to let us live a new and free life without their involvement.
I worked for two weeks at the new office in Dubai as the head boss.
I liked it. I liked the people.
I didn’t even have to deal with Pascal or my fucking murderous uncle. Sorry, but I can’t quite forget that.
No, the company is big enough now that there are those who manage the different branches in different countries.
But even though I am Ludovic’s daughter and I got all the respect in the company, in the business, in the fashion world, the designs and the style and the attitude just didn’t jibe with mine anymore.
I wanted to merge the classical style I’d grown up with and been trained on with something a little more me.
So I started my own label.
The name?
Seraphine.
The ladies in Dubai are loving it so far. Turns out, this fashion-forward, rich, vibrant city was the best place to start something new, something catered to the well-to-do woman who wants class with some edge.
And believe me, it’s very new.
We’re still looking for an office after operating out of this apartment for a while. But everything is coming together. We have designers and social media experts, and once we cut that red ribbon, the world won’t know what hit it.
Of course, Blaise is my CFO. Even though his family was never known for managing their finances, Blaise was always very aware of the money he had and what to do with it. He’s been instrumental in getting Seraphine off the ground. I couldn’t do it without him.
The tabloids love to report on us, by the way.
They talk about how we’re the outcasts of the Dumont brand, how I had a nervous breakdown after my father’s death (which isn’t untrue) and wanted to follow in my brothers’ footsteps by distancing myself from the Dumont name as much as I could.
As for Blaise, well, the media is a little kinder. Figures—he’s a man with money, after all. They like to say he rescued me, that he brought purpose to my life.
Maybe that’s true. He’s saved me on more than one occasion.
But I like to think that I brought out the best in him as he’s brought out the best in me.
And now, well, the two of us will do what we can to bring out the best in her.
Did I say her?
I grin at Blaise. “I think it’s a girl.”
He grins at me right back. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps she can design for the label.”
“Maybe,” I say, pressing my head into his chest as he hugs me. “Or maybe we’ll start a new tradition and let our children do whatever the fuck they want to do.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Sounds damn good to me too.