The Consequence He Must Claim

By: Dani Collins

Her boss...

Sorcha Kelly fell head over heels for her impossibly irresistible boss years ago. When she discovered he was dutifully engaged, she had to leave to protect her heart. However, her resignation broke the seal on the dangerous chemistry that always simmered between them, and that evening it consumed them both.

His baby!

After surviving a violent car crash, Cesar Montero lost the memories of the ardent hours he shared with his effortlessly seductive PA. So when Cesar discovers that their time together resulted in a lasting consequence, he’s determined to claim his child and relive the white-hot night he can no longer recall…again and again!





“Of all the memories I’ve lost, the most maddening is not remembering what it’s like to make love to you.”

Cesar bent and covered Sorcha’s lips with his own, hard, but not hurtful. Seeming to catch himself at the last second and decide whether he wanted to plunder or merely sample.

Maybe he was waiting for a rush of memory, trying to remember how their first kisses had tasted and felt. She remembered. She wanted to protest and turn away from his kiss, but her body knew him in a primal way that made her whole being soften in welcome. Her hand lifted to caress the stubble on his cheek, urging him to linger, playing her mouth against his in invitation.

With a gruff sound deep in his throat, he took control of the kiss. He claimed in a way that felt familiar, yet new. He stole, but gave back at the same time, started to pull away, then returned as if he couldn’t help himself. The teasing sent flutters of arousal through her, burning her blood to the ends of her limbs, making her fingers and toes tingle.




PROLOGUE

Eight months ago...

SORCHA KELLY ENTERED the hospital with determined steps. It was coming up to three weeks. They had to let her see him. Especially now that she knew. Not just suspected but knew she was pregnant.

Before this, Cesar Montero’s family had only seen her as his personal assistant. Devoted, absolutely. His entire family appreciated her dedication. They couldn’t have transitioned the running of the multinational engineering firm back into his father’s capable hands without her. She’d been invaluable in those first difficult days after the crash.

But she was only his PA and he’d been unconscious, with visitors limited to his immediate family. Plus his fiancée, of course.

How, exactly, did an unconscious man get engaged? That’s what Sorcha wanted to know. Aside from crossing paths at a few family events, Cesar hadn’t even been seeing Diega. The agreement between the families to eventually merge assets via marriage had been an expectation, not a written contract or even an emotional one.

Cesar’s mother was the one who’d been pressing to formalize the engagement. Cesar had confided his reluctance to follow through with it to Sorcha that last day.

Obviously his family didn’t know Cesar had left Sorcha the evening of the crash to inform Diega the marriage wouldn’t happen. He’d seen Diega. The woman had admitted to authorities that he’d been at her house and left again, so why was Diega acting like the marriage was on? Like plans had advanced from “maybe” to “absolutely”?

How had she gone from family friend to fiancée in the sliver of time that Cesar had spent at the bottom of a cliff in a bashed-up car?

The question tortured Sorcha every moment of every day while she waited for Cesar to wake up and explain himself.

He’d stayed in a coma for so long, however, she’d begun to anticipate that if she did turn up pregnant, this baby might be a comfort to his family. Then he had awoken and she knew he would explain that she was meant to be at his side, not Diega.

Except that didn’t happen. His father had dropped by the office to explain that Cesar had lost a week’s worth of memories prior to the crash. He didn’t recall the ribbon cutting on the bridge in Madrid and was quite anxious to oversee it, el Excelentísimo, Señor Montero had added with one of his distracted frowns, the one that suggested he was exasperated by humans and their mortal frailties.

Sorcha had stared, speechless, at the Duke of Castellon. Cesar’s private celebration of the bridge with her once they’d returned to Valencia had given way to a heart-to-heart and eventually their life-changing body-to-body connection. Cesar remembered nothing of that?

How did one process such news? All she’d felt was a void inside her. Like their magical afternoon hadn’t happened.

Somehow she had swallowed back a dry lump and asked if she could see him. “Not necessary,” his father had told her.

It really was. Sorcha wouldn’t believe Cesar’s loss of memory until he’d told her himself, especially now that the evidence of their lovemaking was confirmed by a tiny pink stripe on a wand.

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