The private jet had touched down in Aspen just as the sun dipped below the jagged horizon, painting the snow-capped peaks in strokes of fiery orange and bruised purple. I'd stared out the window during the descent, my hand absently tracing the faint swell of my belly under the oversized cashmere sweater Hunter had draped over my shoulders mid-flight. Three months in, and the secret we'd buried after the yacht party was starting to whisper its presence—not just in the queasy mornings or the way my bras pinched a little tighter, but in the stolen glances Hunter shot my way when he thought I wasn't looking. Concern laced with something darker, hungrier. Possession.
Liam had been thrilled, of course—the six-year-old bundle of chaos bundled up in his puffy jacket, chattering nonstop about "rea
