Read Online Fated Souls by Becky Flade - Free Book Online Page B

bare feet to his damp hair.
    “Your hair is damp and your shorts are dry, how’d you manage that?” Before he’d answered she put it together herself. “Shit, you had a shower already, didn’t you? I must be a filthy mess, and here you smell like Irish Spring and while making me eggs no less. Where’s the shower?”
    Aidan showed her through his bedroom, which she tried not to focus on, and into the master bath, which had her whistling low through her teeth. He also showed her where to find towels and soap before reminding her that breakfast would be ready in about five minutes and they were going into the Jacuzzi directly after. Keeping those things in mind, Maggie simply jumped in and rinsed herself off. Feeling refreshed, she joined Aidan on the deck in her new bikini and the matching sarong she’d splurged on.
    When he looked over at her, whatever he had wanted to say stuck in his throat and he spilled orange juice all over his own foot. Feeling very good and very smug and very glad she’d passed on the full piece, Maggie took a seat. She closed her eyes and simply inhaled the feast while Aidan mopped up the mess with a kitchen towel. “Aidan, this looks fantastic.”
    “Thanks.” He took the seat across from her and for several minutes they simply ate, oddly at ease in the other’s silent company. He finished first and leaned back in his chair watching her scoop the last of her food onto her fork.
    “That was delicious. Thank you.” She wiped her mouth and smiled at him. “Least I can do is the dishes.”
    “You’re very welcome and I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got a better idea. We’ll clear the table together and leave the dishes for later. I don’t know about you, but I could really use a good soak.”
    Maggie smiled. “You’re on.” After they’d stacked the dishes in the sink, Aidan snagged a bottle of champagne to make both of their juices mimosas, and they carried them out to the Jacuzzi. She could feel his eyes on her as she dropped the sarong she’d tied around her waist and stepped into the steaming, swirling water. With a minimum of fuss he sat opposite of her. Both sighed in mirrored bliss. Maggie’s eyes were closed, her head tilted back to enjoy the massaging sensation of the jet against her neck.
    “So tell me about Anastasia Boyle.” The request made Maggie smile.
    “You didn’t Google her?” She opened one eye and saw he was relaxing in much the same position as she, only his eyes were open and watchful, on her. He shook his head, and Maggie closed her eye again before explaining. “My father was a very successful businessman and my mother loved being married to a very successful businessman. I came along, not the heir they’d both imagined but sufficient, since neither intended to have another child. I had a nanny who loved me very much; she’d taken to calling me Maggie since my middle name is Margaret. And I lived in blissful ignorance as most children do.
    “When I was ten my father was indicted and convicted of embezzling millions from his company, and the government seized nearly everything we had. My mother was left with the small trust fund she’d inherited from her family and me. My father never explained himself, not to the authorities, not to his stockholders, nor, to the best of my knowledge, to my mother before killing himself two months into his sentence at a federal penitentiary.” She didn’t bother opening her eyes as she continued.
    “We moved, shamefaced, to a small suburban college town outside Philadelphia. My mother got a job as the social director for the local country club; it paid well and with the trust fund to fall back on we were far from poor. She bought a beautiful single home on a friendly street full of families. I loved it there; the only sadness I really felt was the loss of Mrs. O’Connell, my nanny. She’d been the only parent I’d ever known and Mother was a poor substitute. In Mother’s opinion we were destitute. Middle