Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 88 – Meeting the Family

When we arrive over an hour later, the boys are thrilled, but everyone else is, I think, feeling the strain. The boys spent the rest of the ride continuing to needle Amelia about little things, despite Victor and my equal attempts at intervention.

I may not like the girl, but it’s her wedding – she doesn’t deserve to be tortured just because the boys are bitter that their father has chosen her over me.

I bite my tongue at this thought, unwilling to admit…well. That’s all beside the point.

As I climb out of the van I can feel a little mist in the air. Curious, I walk a few steps around the van towards a great rushing sound and gasp, taking in the sight of the gigantic waterfall that plunges from a cliff face several stories above us. It’s absolutely breathtaking.

“Whoaaa!” Ian shouts, running over towards the rail that separates the wedding facility from the plunging cataract. “That’s incredible!”

“It’s so cool!” Alvin shouts, following him. “Mom! Can I go over it in a barrel!?”

“What!?” I shout, horrified at the idea. I stride over to them, grabbing both their hands.

“It’s safe!” Alvin whines.

“We watched a documentary about Niagara Falls!” Ian continues the protest.

“None of that,” I say, stern, eager to knock this idea out of their heads. “Absolutely no more conversation on that point. Waterfalls are for looking, not for touching.”

I haul them back to a smirking Victor, who stands by the van. “To be fair,” he says, “at their age I would have had the same impulse.”

“Encourage them any more,” I mutter, “and I’ll shove you into the barrel myself.”

He laughs and then turns away to help Amelia begin to unload the bags. Spotting our own luggage by the side of the van, I bring the boys over to grab it. As we turn back towards the venue, we see a man dressed in black tails walking over to us.

“Madame Ortega, I presume?” He asks.

nod, smiling. Madamoiselle, I say in my head,

you and your

beautiful hodgepodge of terraces and balconies from individual rooms and suites. The ballroom, I know, from Amelia telling us perhaps a hundred times, is on the roof of the building, a gorgeous space with three-hundred-and-sixty degree views of the

myself, I can’t wait to see it. Amelia’s excellent

calls behind him, waving to Victor, who waves

well, pointing to the butler. I peek over my shoulder and see that Victor is laughing again, clearly happy. I smile as well, unable to help

butler leads us into the lobby and then immediately to a stand of elevators which stretch to the left and the right of the front desk. We take the leftmost elevator, all shiny brass and ivory buttons. The butler presses 12 – the top floor – and we zip upwards, my ears popping as

only a few rooms ahead of us. Seeing my confusion, the butler explains, “the family suites, madame.” He opens the leftmost door and bows slightly as we enter before him. “Mademoiselle Jones had you listed

the butler’s eye and he gives me a small smirk. I laugh a little, pleased,

I turn to see him jump onto the top of the couch, his hands and face pressed against the windows behind it which – oh, wow – look directly into the cascading

the windows – you’re going to get them all

admired, and we have staff who are used to cleaning much worse than

at him, but pull the boys down nonetheless. I think

madame?…” the butler

thank you,” I say, crossing the room again the collect our luggage. He nods his head and starts for the door,

gives me a warm smile and nods. “Of course. Anything for a lady, such as

and I heave a deep sigh, steeling myself for what is surely going to be a complicated weekend. I turn to look again at the beautiful falls,

the butler left, before it closed. She’s a tall woman, about twenty years older than me, with light brown hair coiled into a neat chignon at the back of her neck. She wears a stunning blue dress.

corner of

say hesitating. “I’m sorry, I don’t know

grandchildren.” She kneels on the ground and opens her arms

meeting Victor’s family, though I knew it would be inevitable. I just never

“Are you our other grandmama?”

ago!” Alvin chimes in, following close on his brother’s heels.

pleased to hear that I am better. But you must call me Mimmi, not Grandmama. That is much