—Mabel—
Memories of that night in his penthouse played in my head.
Heat crept up my cheeks.
I swallowed hard and glanced across the tinted windows as the convoy glided across the streets of Washington.
The children chanted happily nursery rhymes; Baba Black Sheep, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, The Wheels on the Bus, Old MacDonald Had a Farm...
At some point, Alec and I joined them as warmth passed between us.
Finally, the car slowed before the familiar gates of Alexis Green Oak Mansion. The towering gates opened and we drove into the broad driveway.
“Is this Daddy's house?” the kids asked, their mouths wide with awe.
“Yes, it is,” I replied and met their excited gazes. “Do you like it?” I asked, and they bobbed their heads.
Alec chuckled. “Welcome to our home,” he said.
Our home?
