by S. Ann Cole
OWNERSHIP
Ownee: Torin Garza
Owner: Lyra Henderson
Duration: Lifetime
“What is this?” I ask, unable to stop smiling.
“Ownership card.”
“Like my permission card?”
“Yeah.”
“So, as long as I have this, I own you?”
“Yup.”
“Does this also work like a permission card? Like, I can jump your bones whenever I want?”
He chuckles. “Pretty much, yeah.”
I grip it tightly in my fist. He’s never, ever getting it back. “Thank you. I love it.” And you.
He wraps his arm around me and pulls me close to him.
Resting my head on his shoulder, I say, “So, Dad’s putting the house up for sale.”
“I know.”
He knows everything, doesn’t he? The creep.
My creep.
“Can I come live with you?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Will you cook for me?”
“Everyday.”
“Can I sit on your countertop?”
“Nope.”
“But I have this ownership card thingy. It should give me all access pass for everything.”
“For sitting on my face, sure. Not my countertop.”
Something sexy unfurls in my belly at that. “Did you read my book?”
“Yes.”
“So? What do you think?”
“Didn’t make it past chapter five. It was horrible.”
I punch him. Hard. “Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you.”
He laughs. “You’d rather me lie to you? If this is what you wanna do, you gotta grow a tough skin.”
I tilt my head to look up at him. His jawline is so sharp. “You really think it was bad?”
“Yup.” He toys with the ends of my hair. “But Jo gave me notes to give you. It’s in the glove compartment. She said something about you mixing genres and the plot being unfocused.”
It’s a little disheartening, but being unapologetically honest with me is so true to his character that I can’t even be offended. He’s been like this with me since day one. Never coddled me. Never pitied me.
“Do you think I have a chance?”
“I do. But I dunno anything about this shit so I can’t help you,” he says. “Jo can, though. She writes, too. Her father was a novelist and she’s got a chest of manuscripts rotting in my basement.”
“No way.” All those hours I spent typing away on her porch and she said nothing about this? Jo and I will be having words.
He nuzzles my hair. “You’ll get there.”
“You didn’t even get to see me kill you in chapter fifteen,” I grumble. “Then have hot sex with your surprise twin brother in chapter twenty.”
His shoulders shake with laughter. “Def made the right decision copping out early.”
“In all fairness, a lot of crazy shit was happening, all right? And that was my outlet.”
“Lyra?” he whispers in my hair.
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
I tilt my head up again and scrape my teeth along his jawline. “I love you, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“It’s already worth it, baby.”
Lyra
Fourteen months later
FROM BEHIND MY SUNGLASSES, I WATCH as Torin throws the chunky baby in the air then catches him. The baby giggles and kicks his pudgy little feet, wanting more, so Torin does it again.
Shirtless, barefooted, toes buried in tawny sand, it’s the most relaxed I’ve seen my man in months.
“He’s so good with him,” Jules says lazily from the sun lounger beside mine. “Who would have thought?”
We’re in Turks and Caicos. And by we, I mean the entire Garza family. I’d been planning this trip for a while.
Each time Torin returned from a job, he was more tense than before the previous job. His growing resentment for his job, for having to leave me, was becoming a tangible thing and I didn’t know what to do about it.
With his incumbency to a “super-secret organization that must never be discussed,” he can’t exactly retire. He was appointed his position, and only death or severe disability can unseat him. Every boss has a boss, and they’re—kind of—his. When they call, he has to go.
Wanting to do something nice for him, I figured since I’d bombed his last vacation, I owed him one. So, with careful planning, I secured an entire beach front villa estate for two weeks.
Four days ago, he jetted here straight off of a job, under the impression that it would be just us spending the weekend together. When he arrived at the villa and found his entire family waiting for him, he’d closed his eyes and just stood there, breathing, wordless, for two whole minutes. And I could almost see the tension seep out of him like vapor.
We all knew him, so we all knew that kind of reaction from him was good. Gratitude and appreciation Torin style.
A two-week vacation with him all to myself would’ve been ideal for me, especially since he’s been away for almost two months. But his family is important to him, and he’s voiced how much he hates not being able to connect with them as often, so I knew including them was the right decision.
When planning, his brothers advised me that the best time for the trip would be late December, as that’s when things at Red Cage are more quiet, but to have a private jet on standby just in case. So here we are, a week before Christmas. According to Tillie, the entire family hasn’t been together for a holiday in over five years, so everyone—especially Monica—is grateful for the getaway.
Tripp and True are out on the water zipping about on jet skis with two local women they picked up from who knows where.
Monica is on a sun lounger down on the sand, simultaneously reading a book and watching Torin play with the baby.
Tillie is in the shallow shore taking provocative selfies with her best friend she begged me to let tag along.
Trent and Lexi are missing. They’re always missing. And by “missing” I mean banging. Luckily, everyone has their own villa, so there’s more than enough privacy. No one has to overhear anyone bumping uglies.
I glance over at Jules. Bobbed blonde hair, cute nose, voluptuous body. Over the last year, we’ve become great friends. She’s passionate, caring, loyal and I love her to bits. She’s my new Holly.
When I found out the reason behind Holly’s behavior, I’d been disappointed rather than angry. I’d forgiven her because I loved her. Tried to work on our friendship, get back to where we were. But the rift was too great; I just didn’t trust her anymore. We would never be “Holly and Ly, BFFs foreva” again.
As we drifted apart, Jules and I grew closer.
We understand each other in ways others won’t and probably never will.
Reuben is away on a job, so I dragged her along so she could get some relaxation in. This estate comes with a staff of twelve, which includes a babysitter, so she’s loving it.
“When he allows himself to relax,” I say in response to Jules’ comment, “he can be quite surprising.”
Jules sweeps her sunglasses to atop her head. “I truly admire how well you handle this lifestyle. It’s so hard for me. Especially now that we have Rue. But I try not to complain too much because I don’t want him to feel like he has to choose; he really loves what he does.”
“Maybe because I went in knowing exactly what to expect,” I say with a shrug. “Against all advice—even his—I chose this life. I’m so deeply in love with him that I’m just grateful I get to have him at all. To be honest, I think it’s harder for him than it is for me.”
Do I miss Torin when he’s gone? Terribly. But I’ve also been quite busy. With Jo’s guidance and advice, I’ve taken some intense writing courses. Which lead me to fall in love with screenwriting, which somehow lead me right back to where I was before my life was rudely interrupted. Emulating Mitch Henderson.
No, I didn
’t re-enroll in college, but I asked Dad to mentor me. Something he’s been overly eager and excited to do. So my days were spent under Mitch Henderson’s tutelage, and my nights on adapting one of Jo’s old manuscripts to screenplay. Because, man, the woman was sitting on gold. An entire twenty-two book hardboiled crime fiction series collecting dust in Torin’s storage. Detached, disillusioned, and unconvinced that her stories were any good, she told me to do whatever I wanted with them.
After adapting the first manuscript to script, Dad allowed me to pitch it as a series to the greenlight committee at his production company, INWATCH. Even though he has the final say, he’s given me no special treatment. He told me I needed the full experience—both as boss and employee—if I’m to take over the business one day. So I had to pitch, and I had to win the entire committee.
After my pitch, I’d gained only half of the committee’s support. So I went back to the drawing board and made some adjustments. Changed the lead from just another ass-kicking white male, to a badass female lead. Added some steam, a love triangle, and more gore, much to Jo’s dismay. But, it got the entire committee on board. Green-motherfreaking-light.
Filming for KRISTI BRAVE starts in three months.
Yup, to honor Kristi, I chose to name the female lead—and show—after her, using the name I knew her as when she died, with “brave” as her surname because that’s what she was.
Jo cried when I told her the news. Even now, with a big, fat check cashed in her bank account, she’s still convinced it’s all a joke.
So yep, I’ve been busy. Maybe if I was just sitting around waiting for Torin to come home from a job, it would’ve driven me mad. But right now, it works for me. Plus, his family never leaves me alone, always coming around to check in on me.
I have a zest for life again and I’m enjoying it.
Jules’ phone rings. She glances at the screen and leaps up. “It’s Ben,” she says with a giddy smile. “He’ll want to see Rue. Be right back.”
She hurries off the sundeck, skips down the wooden steps, and jogs toward Torin on the beach. Contact isn’t always guaranteed when the men are on jobs, so those random phone calls are precious.
Torin hands over Rue to Jules, a strange expression on his face as he watches her go. He then glances up to where I’m at. When I wiggle my fingers at him in a lazy wave, he starts in my direction.
Several seconds later, he’s squeezing himself onto my sun lounger, despite my protest that his huge, muscled ass can’t fit. He nuzzles my neck and I shiver and giggle at the same time.
“You’re so needy,” I tease. “Like a little puppy.”
“Your needy puppy.” He nips at my skin. “Thanks for all this, Ly. I needed it more than I realized.”
“It’s my endeavor to know what you need and meet it,” I say, tracing the definitions of his biceps. “I love you.”
Lifting his face from my neck, he rests his head on the lounger so we’re eye to eye. Moss-green to deep-brown. “There’s something else I need…but not sure how to ask.”
This makes me guffaw. “You? Torin Garza? You don’t ask for anything. You demand or manipulate.”
“This is different.”
The intense earnestness of his tone and hint of guilt in his eyes sobers me. “What is it?”
“We talked about it on your birthday. We made the decision together…”
Ah… “Kids?”
With a nod, he finds my hand and laces our fingers together. “I know it’s fucking selfish of me ‘cause you’re at such a great place in your life right now, being groomed for the business plus this whole TV show thing with Jo, and you’re young and just getting started but…being here these past few days made me realize…I want kids. I do. And I only want them with you.”
Wow. This one I didn’t see coming. He’s been quite adamant about not wanting kids. A couple of months ago while in New Orleans for my birthday, we had a big talk about it, and I’d adjusted to the idea of a life without kids. Because I’d rather a life with him and without kids than the other way around.
The prospect of a life with no kids and a husband who’s gone a lot is one of the reasons I’ve been working so hard, making sure I’d have something to fill that gap. I’ve found that something and I’m loving it more than I imagined.
Now this… A family with Torin Garza, the man of my dreams. I want it. I want it so badly.
But, I also like my life as it is now. How do I reconcile the two? I feel like bursting into tears. But I don’t know if it’s with sadness or joy.
He’s watching me expectantly, waiting.
“Torin, you know I’ll do anything for you…”
“But?”
“Three years,” I say, making a decision that would give us both what we want. “Give me three years and we can get right on it.”
Fickle me might be ready much sooner than that, but three years is enough time to focus on learning the ins and out of Dad’s business and to mentally prepare and plan for motherhood.
Torin’s face falls, an audibly sad sigh flowing through those perfect lips.
“Oh my God, are you seriously trying to manipulate me right now?”
Another sad sigh, lids drooping pitifully this time. “What do you mean, babe?”
This sonofabitch. “Okay, fine. Two years. No sooner,” I cave, adding, “And I swear to God, if you sad sigh again I’m kicking you off this lounger.”
The manipulative jerkhole grins. Broadly. It’s the most teeth I’ve ever seen him show. “Two years.”
“Ugh. I’m such a sucker.”
He lifts our laced hands and kisses the rock on my finger. A princess-cut diamond encrusted, with a wide shank that affords a line of purple diamonds accent.
He’d proposed to me four months ago. While he was buried deep inside me and I was on the verge of an orgasm. Suffice it to say, I screamed, “Oh my God, yes!” as I came.
Leave it to Torin Garza to ensure he gets a yes out of me by any means necessary.
“I’ll do my best to make choosing this life with me worth it, Lyra, I promise.”
I dust my fingers through his scruff. He’s due for a grooming. “It’s already worth it, baby.”
“But it could be better if—”
“Stop,” I plead. “I don’t resent your job, Torin. I’m not complaining, I promise. I love you. I love us. I want you to enjoy your job and trust that I’m fine with it.”
“And when the kids come?”
“They’ll know their daddy loves them and will move heaven and earth for them, because you will show them. Like you’ve shown me.”
He touches his palm to my bare stomach. “Can’t wait.”
I giggle. “There’s nothing in there right now but lunch and pina colada. And you know, maybe we should focus on setting a wedding date first?”
“I’d rather just go to Vegas, but for whatever reason you want a fairytale wedding,” he mumbles. “Everything’s up to you with that shit. Just tell me the date and time and I’ll show up. I just want you to be my wife. Don’t care about the rest.”
I roll my eyes. Only he would call our wedding plans “that shit.” He really couldn’t give a damn. But I’m getting a fairytale wedding if it’s the last thing I do.
“You’re fucking everything to me, you know that?” he whispers, gazing at me with so much love and adoration it makes butterflies erupt in my belly. “Gets harder and harder each time I’ve to leave you.”
Breathe... “Just know that I’ll always be here, waiting for you.”
He moves in and brushes his lips against mine. “Beautiful…”
“Oh,” I start, “when I’m swollen and waddling with your spawn, you’ll tell me every day that I’m hot. Smoking hot. Never beautiful. Always hot. Got it?”
He’s grinning, and it’s freaking magnificent. “Got it.”
With everything in me, I kiss him, pressing myself as tightly to him as possible, wishing I could zip him open and crawl into him.
He’s
mine. All mine. And he loves me. So, so much. I feel every ounce of his love for me, when he looks at me, touches me, kisses me. I feel it all the way down to my toes. Even when he’s miles away. I don’t know what I did to deserve this man’s undying love and devotion, but I’m lapping it all up. Swathing myself in it like a blanket.
Turns out Madame Universe didn’t hate me after all. In her own fucked-up way, she was just setting me up for the biggest, most divine prize of all.
Torin Garza. The love of my life. The beat of my heart. The man of my dreams.
My bronze god.
Thank you, Madame Universe. You sadistic, psychotic bitch.
THANK YOU FOR READING!
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
S. ANN COLE is an exaggerator, a laugher, sometimes overly chatty, sometimes overly shy. She’s afraid of cats, dogs, snakes—heck, she’s only tolerable to gold fishes in a tank.
She hates fireworks, schmaltz and arrogance.
She loves carbs, full moons and humility.
She lives nowhere and everywhere.
Jokey people are her favorite people to be around, as laughter is the way to her heart.
When Ann’s not abusing her computer keyboard, you can find her nosing a novel, watching anything on television that makes her laugh until she breaks into hiccups, studying the Bible, or sipping red wine.
CONNECT WITH ANN
Email me: [email protected]
Or visit my website: www.AnnCole.net