Curves for the Billionaire by Alexis Moore

the cover had been as bold as she had been feeling by the end of the photo shoot—she’d become more and more comfortable with the female photographer and had stopped worrying about the slim possibility of someone recognizing her.
    “Did you throw it out afterwards?” she asked hopefully.
    “No, I’ve still got it.”
    “You’ve kept it for five years?”
    “I don’t intend to ever get rid of it.”
    “Wait!  Hold on!  If you liked my body so much, how come you’ve always dated skinny blondes?”
    “Because I needed to prove something to myself.”
    “What.”
    “That I could resist falling in love with them.”
    “You didn’t want to fall in love?”
    “No.  Love makes fools of men.”
    “What do you have against blondes?”  Though it wasn’t directed at her, prejudice of any kind was worrying.
    “I don’t have anything against blondes,” he denied.  “I just needed to know that I could resist the feminine wiles of women who look like my—”
    “—mother,” she finished the sentence when he broke off abruptly.
    He looked annoyed that he had revealed more than he wanted to, but Samantha knew that there would never be a more appropriate moment to broach the topic that had troubled her for a long time.  “Zac, why do you hate your mother so much?”
    “I don’t hate her.  I just don’t like her very much.”
    “You barely said a dozen words to her at the wedding.”
    “That’s eleven more than I wanted to!” he admitted brusquely.
    “You’re starting to worry me now.  If we have children and there’s a reason they can’t be left—”
    “I would never leave my son with my mother.  Never!”
    “Zac?”  Samantha suddenly couldn’t breathe.  “You…you didn’t…?”
    “Excuse me.  I need some space!”
    “Zac, please don’t leave!” she begged, but he stormed into the other bedroom and slammed the door behind him.
    Samantha sat stunned.  She had once been so disgusted at herself for thinking that Zachary might be in love with his own mother, but this seemed much, much worse!  Had his mother sexually molested him?
    Oh God, please don’t let it be true! she prayed silently.
    She was aware that children could be sexually abused by either parent, and in some horrendous cases both parents had been perpetrators, but abuse by fathers was more prevalent.  Just like male victims of rape, boys abused by their mothers were often more embarrassed about coming forward.  And often when they found the courage to do so, they weren’t treated with the same sensitivity as female victims.
    Samantha got up and paced the length of the room, torn between giving Zachary the space he’d demanded and offering him comfort.  She would be devastated for him if he confirmed that he had been sexually abused, but he needed to know that it wouldn’t affect the way she felt about him.  He would have been an innocent victim and she’d never compound that by blaming him.
    “Zac?  Zac, honey, please open the door!”
    “It’s open,” he responded.
    She turned the knob and the door opened easily.  Pushing it inwards, she saw him sitting on a chair, holding his head in his hands.
    “Did you just unlock it?”
    “I didn’t lock it in the first place.”
    “Sorry, I thought you did.”  Samantha walked across the room and stood beside his chair. “Do you want to talk about it?”
    “Not really, but I guess I owe you an explanation.”
    “Go on,” she urged.
    “Zoë was a daddy’s girl.  I loved my mother.  She was like an angel to me with her ash blonde hair, soft skin and sweet vanilla scent.  I used to love hugging her and pressing my face against her chest.  I was about seven or eight when I heard giggling one night and came downstairs thinking that my dad had come home earlier than promised.”
    Samantha pressed the side of his face against her breast and wrapped her arms around him, waiting patiently for him to continue.
    “My mother was an air hostess before she