The Second Time Around

CHAPTER ONE: The Resurrection

She gasped back into existence with the force of a person waking from a drowning, her lungs burning like she'd held her breath underwater for years. The familiar scent filled her nostrils first-bergamot, sandalwood, and expensive linen. Alexander's cologne. The one he'd worn since their honeymoon in Tuscany, when they were still young enough to believe marriage was simple.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of their penthouse bedroom. It caught dust motes in the air, and they danced like golden fairies caught in amber. Outside, Manhattan sprawled beneath them—a glittering testament to the empire Alexander had built from absolutely nothing.

But Selene wasn't looking at the view.

She was staring at the man beside her.

Alexander was still asleep. His dark hair fell across his forehead in a way that made him look almost vulnerable,a word she would never have associated with him before. He was beautiful in a way that made people stare. Sharp cheekbones. A jaw that could cut glass. A nose that was aristocratic without being pretentious. His body was exactly as she remembered,broad shoulders, lean muscles, the result of early morning workouts before the empire demanded his time.

But it was his face that made her heart stop.

Even in sleep, even unconscious and unguarded, he looked like a man bracing for impact. His dark brows were furrowed. His full lips were pressed into a thin line. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders were slightly rigid even in rest. He looked like a man who'd learned very early that the world would take everything from him if he let his guard down.

How many times had she stared at this face and felt nothing but frustration? How many times had she thought, He's so cold. He never shows me any emotion. How can he say he loves me when he looks like that?

And how many times had she been completely wrong?

She reached out slowly her hand was shaking, and she couldn't understand why and touched his face. Just the gentle brush of her fingertips against his cheekbone.

His eyes opened immediately.

They were the color of storm clouds. Gray with flecks of silver that seemed to shift depending on his mood. In business meetings, she'd seen them turn to steel-cold and unreadable and terrifying. In bed, late at night, she'd watched them soften to warm pewter. But she'd never really seen them the way she was seeing them now, with that first flash of concern.

"Selene?" His voice was rough with sleep, but the worry in it was unmistakable. "What's wrong? Are you ill?"

She opened her mouth to explain. To tell him everything. To say, I died. We all died. And I woke up here, and you're alive, and I don't know how but I'll spend the rest of my life being grateful for it.

But the words wouldn't come.

Instead, she threw herself against his chest and wept.

Alexander stiffened. He'd never been good with emotions his own or anyone else's. His mother had abandoned him when he was five, leaving him with an alcoholic father who'd died when Alexander was sixteen. He'd built his empire from nothing, clawed his way up from poverty to billions, and learned along the way to trust no one, to show nothing, to feel nothing.

But this was Selene. His wife. The woman he'd fallen in love with at a charity gala six years ago, when she'd been wearing a sapphire blue dress and laughing at something her friend said. She'd looked untouchable. Radiant. Too perfect to ever want anything to do with him.

He'd almost walked away that night.

He was grateful every day that he hadn't.

Slowly, awkwardly, his arms came up around her. It wasn't a smooth gesture. It was hesitant, uncertain. But it was genuine.

"Tell me what happened," he murmured, his hand stroking her hair. It was a tentative gesture, unpracticed and stiff, but it came from somewhere deep inside him. "Tell me what's wrong."

"You died," she choked out between sobs. "You died, and they died, and I never said—I never told you that I—"

"Selene." He pulled back, scanning her face with those storm-cloud eyes. He was already moving into problem-solving mode, she could see it happening. The strategic part of his mind was calculating variables and outcomes. "I'm right here. We're both right here. Whatever nightmare you had—"

"It wasn't a nightmare. It was the future. It was everything."

The look on his face made her heart ache so intensely she thought it might crack. He was trying to figure out what to do. He didn't know how to fix this. And that terrified him more than anything.

"I need you to stay with me," she pleaded, gripping his wrist. "Not just today. Every day. I need you to promise me you'll stay."

Something flickered in his expression. Confusion. Disbelief. Then, slowly, a softening of his harsh features. A crack in the marble.

"I have a meeting at nine," he said carefully. "With the Hendersons about the Tokyo acquisition. They're flying in from—"

"Cancel it."

He looked at her like she'd spoken a foreign language. "I can't cancel. It's been scheduled for three months. It's a multi-billion-dollar deal."

"I don't care. Cancel it."

He was quiet for a very long moment. She could see him mentally running through the consequences. The disappointed investors. The rescheduling nightmare. The hit to his reputation.

She watched him weigh it all against her face.

"I'll reschedule," he said finally. "I'll have my assistant call them."

He rescheduled.

For her.

For no reason except that she'd asked.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, Alex."

He blinked. She'd never called him Alex before. It had always been Alexander—formal, distant, appropriate for a wife who wanted to maintain distance. She'd used it like a weapon sometimes, especially when she was angry.

"I'm going to be different this time," she promised, pressing her hand to his chest. Through the thin fabric of his silk pajama top, she could feel his heartbeat—steady, strong, alive. "I'm going to be better. I swear. I'm going to show you. I'm going to show all of you."

"You're already perfect, Selene."

"No." She shook her head so hard tears splattered across her face. "No, I've been awful. I've been selfish and vain and I've wasted so much time. But I'm going to change. I'm going to be the wife you deserve. I'm going to be the mother our children need. I'm going to—"

"Okay." He reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. His touch was gentle. She couldn't remember the last time he'd touched her like that. "Show me."