The golden boy and the heir to the billion-dollar empire, Bash Hughes has been the love of Trinity’s life even if he’s a bully. He has everything the world can offer, but she’s only his best friend—nothing more, and it eventually ended badly. They went separate ways then. Years later, their worlds collide, but they’re two different people—Trinity transforms into a gorgeous redhead. Well, Bash always has the looks, money, and now power. What happened when their first glance reignites something hard to shake off? Is there still a friendship to catch up, or they want something more?
Lihat lebih banyakBASH
I am so annoyed with the art teacher who didn’t appreciate my watercolor painting. I hop out of the car without thanking my driver.
Sprinting inside the house with my backpack tightly grasp, I stomp my feet to our expansive living room. I was practicing the same concept last night over and over again until it looked satisfactory.
I admit I’m so bad at art, but it hurts my ego because I’m excellent at every subject. I can play the piano, cello, violin, and guitar with my eyes closed. I can solve math in just one look at the problem, but art? Ugh! I grimace at the thought of it.
I stop to halt when I notice mom and one of her best friends are laughing together. Their voices are echoing in the living room.
They abruptly stop when they notice me.
I roll my eyes. Mom’s beautiful face lights up and smiles at me. Aunt Zoey, the redhead does the same. I smile timidly back at her.
I’m not in a mood to deal with them, especially mom. I’m already eleven years old, she still pecks me on my lips and pinches my face in front of everyone—it’s annoying. Who do girls like a mama’s boy?
“Hey, mom. Aunt Zoey.” I play cool because everyone knows that I’m a good boy of the King and Hughes.
I stride to the carpeted staircase, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I almost bump into Kiara, whose standing in the middle of the stairs. Her right hand is gripping the rails, and the other is on her sketchpad, pressing against her chest.
“Bash!” she shrieks in surprise.
Her green eyes are big and grow even bigger. Her curly or more or like ringlet red lacks is like she has jammed her finger to the electrical outlet—so messy. She reminds me of Nerida. She has freckles all over her face, and she’s too skinny. She’s Aunt Zoey and Uncle Logan’s daughter—our family friends. Kiara’s parents both work in our company.
“What are you doing here, goldfish?” I narrow my eyes, asking her annoyingly.
Her lips quiver. She doesn’t like the nickname I give her, but I like to annoy Kiara.
“You’re a bully, Bash.” She murmurs and doesn’t meet my gaze as she grips her sketchpad to her chest. She didn’t meet my gaze.
“Well, you look like goldfish, Trinity,” I say mockingly.
“I’m not a fish, and my name is Kiara,” she says softly with a shaky voice. I know she’s going to cry.
“Whatever Kiara or Trinity! You still look like a goldfish. You have orange hair with big eyes,” I say, demonstrating how big her eyes are. “And what’s in that sketchpad of yours?” I quickly snatch from her grip. “As if you knew how to draw,” I grunt as I flip through pages.
She tries her best to snatch it back from me, but I’m way taller than her. In the end, she stops when she struggles to reach for my hand that I raise in the air.
“Give that to me, Bash, please?” Kiara starts crying, eyes filling with tears. She twists her fingers, sliding down herself at the railings of the stairs.
“Oh, sorry, Trinity, but this is now mine, and I know there’s nothing worth looking in here.” I continue flipping each page. My eyes widen at what I see. “You did all these, Trinity?” I can’t believe she can actually sketch like these. “Or your mom did these? Don’t lie to me. You don’t know how to draw, goldfish.” I laugh out loud, but deep inside, I feel something unfamiliar. She’s good at something I don’t, and I’m jealous of her.
“I did all that. Please, give that back to me,” Kiara says between sniffing and twisting fingers.
I almost chuckle as I see a drawing of a boy in Manga surrounded by hearts. I look at her for seconds. With a mischievous grin, I point to the sketch of a boy. “And who’s this?”
She looks at me, wiping her tears on her cheeks. “That’s you.”
TRINITY Who says there is no such thing as perfect? It’s been six years of a perfect life, and what can I possibly ask for more? It feels like yesterday when I marry my hot and gorgeous husband, and now I have three beautiful kids who enjoy playing at the park. “Baby!” I turn my head to see Bash making his way towards my direction with our twins in both hands. He just comes from the airport, and he’s still wearing his dark blue suit perfectly tailored for him. “Hey, you’re early.” I rise from my seat and walk to meet him halfway. He pulls me into a big hug. My kids’ arms are wrap around his legs. “I miss you terribly, Trinity,” he whispers in my ear. I giggle. “It’s been only eight hours, silly.” I break the hug. “But I was miles away from you. You didn’t miss me, did you?” He went to Boston to visit his branch since he’s been the President and the CEO of Hughes Industries for four years. I, on the other hand, is a full-time mother since Baby Fifth was born. Bash didn’t allo
BASH It’s been ten hours since I brought Trinity to Maternity and Children Specialist Hospital, but her cervix only dilates from three centimeters to five centimeters. Trinity is still so stubborn when the contractions kick in, she stops walking and complains of pain instead. I’m already on my fourth cup of coffee. I’m done reading the book I brought with me. I walked ten times more compared to her just to encourage her to walk more. She’s wearing a blue hospital gown, and her hair is tied in a messy bun, and her hands are on her hips for support. I sigh helplessly. “Baby, if you follow what your doctor has told you to do, our baby would be distressed, and you don’t want that to happen, do you?” I ask when she sits back on an empty bench outside her room. I’m so glad she didn’t suffer too much throughout her pregnancy. I let her stop from her job when she’s in her last trimester. She complains of having edema on her feet, but th
BASH I wake up when Trinity whines beside me. I’m sure she had a bad dream, which is weird because since we sleep together, she never wakes me up because of a nightmare. I rub my half-opened eyes and sit up on our bed. I nudge her shoulder slowly, but she doesn’t budge, her whine gets stronger. “Trinity, wake up, baby,” I say as I continue nudging her shoulders. She jolts awake, throwing the blanket away. Her eyes widen, and her face fills with shock. Trinity spreads her legs wider, even in my half-awake brain, my cock stirs. She’s only wearing deep red nighties and thin panties with a bedhead, but she’s still beautiful to me. Then I notice she’s patting her panties. “Baby, what are you doing?” I ask out of curiosity. She sighs and looks at me. “You had a bad dream, that’s why I wake you up.” I kiss the top of her head. “Yeah. I had a bad dream, and it was weird,” she says with worry in he
TRINITY The sonographer presses the transducer on my exposed tummy. Bash squeezes my hand stronger unbeknownst while his eyes are pinned to the monitor. “What does it say? Is everything okay? She’s pregnant, right? Is it a twin? When will we gonna find out the gender of our baby or babies?” He has been babbling since we came to our appointment. The sonographer stops and looks at smiling Bash. “Mr. Hughes, I know you’re excited to find out just like any other soon-to-be dad. Just relax, and Dr. Lee will answer all your questions.” Bash releases a deep sigh. “And you’ve been squeezing my hand, Bash. Relax, I should be the one feeling nervous because I’m the one here having a baby inside my tummy.” “I’m not nervous. I’m just excited. I agreed with you to get a check-up here and not in Paris or Greece or Italy.” Bash scratches his head. He only stops when Dr. Lee walks inside the ultrasound room. We drive back to the
BASH I catch my wife’s unconscious body before she falls straight to the floor. She just turns pale then her eyes flutter close. Everyone gasps and starts to panic. I hold her in my arms when everyone comes surrounding us. “Move away. Give her some air!” I yell while my wife is still in my arms. “Do we have a doctor or a medical expert around?” Mom’s voice fills in the air. “She will be okay, Mom. Just calm down. You will be the next to collapse if you won’t calm down.” Trinity’s parents come closer. “She’ll be alright. I need to bring her to the suite,” I tell them while they’re clutching each other’s arms. I’m not worried. Trinity doesn’t complain about anything weird. She’s maybe a little bit overwhelmed, and I know she has a steady heartbeat because I can feel her warm breath on my neck. When I walk out of the reception area, I hear their footsteps get close. I can’t blame them, though, and they’re just worri
TRINITY Experts said when someone is depressed, he should involve himself with aspiring things and makes time for the things that makes him feels better. I spent every day in this street market since I arrived here in Paris. The entire city has a lot to offer, but art makes me feel better—it gives me a little happiness and diverts me from my sorrows. I found time to visit some historic places; museums, restaurants, and of course, art galleries. I remember Bash told me that once you’re an artist, you will always be an artist. When I grab the paintbrush, start mixing colors on my palette, and brush my canvass, it feels like I did this for years and have never stopped. When Bash gave me a set of art supplies on my sixteenth birthday, I started to paint since then. I still love to sketch, though, when I didn’t want to get messy with paints. It feels natural for me. This is what I love doing after all. Either sketching or pai
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