Until...we finally found it.
A 1600s barn that had been converted into a four-bedroom, three bathroom home with modern editions of glass and steel. The ceilings soared above us with exposed centuries-old timber. Sun streamed in from big skylights and our wish list was complete with a private studio and guest suite dotted around the hobby farm.
Olive got a conservatory and O got her sunshine. Justin got his guest wing and I got a large studio for my business.
Life was good.
Better than good.
Life was perfect.
And I was so fucking grateful.
“Hey!” I chuckled as Olive dashed past me, stealing my paintbrush.
“You’re too slow.” She waggled it, dropping ochre splashes on the polished concrete floor. I didn’t care about the paint spots, this entire place would be covered when I started working. That was the beauty of paint. It belonged on the tools and walls as much as it did on the canvas.
I chased her, grabbing her around the middle and flipping her upside down. A couple of pennies fell out of her pockets along with a blue pencil and scrunched up piece of paper.
“Put me down!”
“Do you promise not to be annoying?”
“You’re annoying.” She giggled.
“You’re the most annoying.” I spun her the right way up and plonked her onto her feet. “The most annoying of annoying.”
She stuck out her tongue, swiping the paintbrush over my cheek. “No. You are.”
“Oh, now you’re gonna get it.” I launched at her, only to miss as she barrelled around O and tucked herself against the wall.
“Nu-huh. You will!” She laughed as I bear-hugged both of them, squishing O against me and Olive against the wall. “O will protect me!”
To be able to joke like this. To be stupid like this.
Fuck.
O rolled her eyes and laughed softly. “You two need to grow up.”
“Tell him that.” Olive stuck her tongue out again. “He’s not painting. He’s just standing there with a dopey look on his face.”
O looked over her shoulder, kissing the tip of my nose. “I like that dopey look.”
“And I like you,” I murmured, placing my mouth over hers for a quick kiss.
I would never get used to that privilege, that sense of completeness. I was home. In every sense of the word. We’d found our dream house, but without O to share my heart and Olive to take care of, it would be meaningless and empty.
“Eww, you two are so gross.” Olive wriggled out, returning to the huge mural we’d started this morning as a family.
Part graffiti, part geometric, part realism.
I’d taken inspiration from O’s tattoo. The owl with its hidden animals beginning with O. This time, it was a design that incorporated all of us, and took up the entire two-story wall at the end of the studio, showcasing the art of paint and the master of shadow.
O had agreed to help paint the simple stuff—outlines and bold block colours—saying she didn’t have enough talent to do more. Olive had exceeded all my hopes of her following in my footsteps, and her talent with a brush sometimes made me sit back in serious awe.
We returned to work, colours flowing harmoniously.
O glanced at the clock, her stomach rumbling. “In another thirty minutes, I’ll put dinner on.”
“Don’t forget I have a dance lesson tonight,” Olive said. “The teacher is coming here.”
“And don’t forget I asked for a lesson for me after.” I chuckled. “Thought we could practice outside by the pond.”
O spun to face me. “You asked for a dance lesson?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
Why? Because dancing had been torn from her life like Olive had been torn from mine. I’d been lucky enough to reclaim Olive, but O...she wasn’t under false illusions that her body would always be a slightly bit broken.
I didn’t want her to go through life without soul food.
So...I’d arranged ballroom dancing for us. Salsa and jive. I sucked and my coordination was laughable, but I would embarrass myself every night if O danced with me.
Because when she danced, the music whispered through her veins, and she glowed.
Glowed like the angel I always knew she was.
“I need the exercise.”
She chuckled. “You work out every morning.” She walked into my embrace, her lips seeking mine. Her eyes said she knew exactly my intentions. “You’re so good to me, Gilbert Clark.”
“I love you, Olin Moss.”
She kissed me harder and I smiled around a secret.
I meant what I said about giving her what she needed, but I also had an ulterior motive for the dance lessons.
I was going to marry this woman.
Now my debts were settled and bank account flush, I was happy knowing I had enough to protect her for life. That I could afford to make her mine.
In two months’ time, we would get hitched and our family would be official.
And after I made this wonderful woman mine, I would spin her and dip her and waltz her into our future.
Forever.
Epilogue Two
______________________________
Olin
“QUIT MOVING.” Gil’s fingers latched on my hipbone, his voice strict and chilly like it did when his art stole his concentration.
“Quit tickling me then.”
“Quit making me want to skip the wedding and go straight to the consummate part.”
I swatted his ear, my gaze skimming over to Olive who stood in the bathroom fixing a final flower into her hair. I doubted she’d heard, but still. “Your daughter is right there.”
“Our daughter.” His eyes caught mine and my heart melted just like always. I would always be weak where he was concerned. Always have no future or home unless he was there.
I accepted that.
Embraced that.
I smiled as he dropped his attention and airbrushed crème and ivory over my skin. “I’m marrying both of you.”
“And no divorce shall be given,” he growled threateningly, but it ached with need.
I chuckled, loving all over again how carefree he was. How different he’d become now he actually communicated his hardships and shared his troubles. “You know you’re not supposed to see the bride on her wedding day.”
He bit his lip, angling the airgun to follow the shadows along my leg. “Not many husbands help dress the bride.”
“You’re not my husband.”
His head tipped up, his eyes flashing. “Not yet. But in ten minutes, I will be.”
I bent in half to kiss him, keeping my bouquet of white roses away from the perfection on my skin. All I wore was two pasties, a skin-coloured G-string, and his paint. I was about to walk down an aisle in front of my family, mostly naked, and I couldn’t wait.
Couldn’t wait to show them the talent of my husband-to-be.
After all, our relationship had started this way—our second chance. It was fitting that it would finish this way—marrying us for eternity.
“I love you, Gilbert Clark.”
“And I love you, soon-to-be Mrs Olin Clark.” He pressed a kiss right over my underwear before adding the finishing touches of my untraditional wedding gown. Only once my skin wore ice, alabaster, and snow did Gil put away his brushes, wipe his paint streaked hands on a rag, and slip into his tux jacket.
He frowned as his gaze slid over me, judging his creation, assessing if I was perfect.
“Oh, wow.” Olive’s mouth fell open as she came toward us. “That’s...you look amazing, O.” Her grey eyes, so intelligent and gentle sparked with love.
My own eyes prickled with overwhelming affection. She might not be mine by blood but she was my daughter through and through. “Thanks, lovely.” Things grew hot and melty in my chest again. “I can’t take credit. It’s all this body painter’s work.”
“Helps that the canvas is beautiful to begin with,”
Gil muttered, adding a last-minute flourish.
More tears built.
Olive shook her finger at me. “Don’t you start crying, O. You’ll ruin Dad’s art.” She giggled. “And you know how much trouble you’ll be in.”
“He’d probably divorce me.” I chuckled, sniffing back liquid that wasn’t allowed to fall.
“He has to marry you first.” Olive snickered.
“I married her the moment she made me pancakes when I was a teenager,” Gil said. “She just didn’t know it.”
I wanted to laugh but kept my face composed so I didn’t ruin the rhinestones Gil had embellished my eyebrows with.
Today was already perfect, and we’d only just dressed.
“So...are you done?” Olive asked her dad, moving forward to help close up the paint and box the bottles where they belonged. “Justin text me before. He said they’re almost ready.”
“Yeah, I’m done.” Gil raked a hand through his hair, leaving behind a streak of white in his otherwise dark unruly mess. I didn’t tell him. I liked the roguish imperfection.
“I’ll go and see if he needs any help,” Olive said, blowing me an air kiss. “Don’t be too long! It’s not raining but we don’t want to push it.”
Gil chuckled, his face soft and full of affection as Olive smoothed down her pretty grey bridesmaid dress and slipped from the guest apartment.
I had no doubt in five minutes, Olive would have everyone sat in the white wooden chairs, the music would be playing, and our small neighbourhood would be ready to witness our nuptials.
Together, we would walk through the studio to the manicured garden at the back. To the pond twinkling in the sunshine and over grass that looked like perfect green carpet. We would become betrothed beneath a small alter made from twisted old branches and flowers.
Justin would stand beside Gil as best man and Olive would stand beside me, and tonight, I hoped Justin might pop the question to his year-long girlfriend, Monique. A year wasn’t a very long time, but when you met the right one, you only needed a day.
One day to understand that you could like others, love others, even marry others, but unless that person was approved by fate and your perfect other half, then it wasn’t entirely your destiny.
Gil was my destiny.
Even though I’d tried to fight it.
Even though he’d tried to kill it and I’d walked away from it...the undeniability of us had won.
Gil moved toward me, keeping his hands to himself with a groan. “I’d give anything to smudge you. To grab and kiss you.”
I blushed. “You can kiss me but you can’t touch.”
He groaned again. “I can’t kiss you. I painted your lips too. If I do, they’ll smear.”
“Guess you’re going to have to wait until the official kiss then.”
“You’re determined to kill me.”
I smiled. “Determined to marry you.” Spreading my arms, I added, “Thank you, Gil. For giving me such a wonderful gown.”
Leaning in, he pressed his lips to my ear. “I’m far from done with you, O. I have another artwork in mind for the honeymoon.”
I shivered in anticipation. Kissing his cheek, I pushed him away so I didn’t leap into his arms. “Shoo. It’s time for me to finish getting ready. You can’t see this next part. It’s a surprise.”
Olive and I had put it together.
I wore Gil’s paint, but I needed something that moved with me. Something that would dance around my legs and arms. Together, we’d sourced panels of sheer lace and organza, designing a dress that hung like a kimono, open down my chest and tied at the waist with a simple silver sash with the sides split, revealing my lace-painted legs and body paint.
The fabric would frame the masterpiece Gil had done.
He chuckled as Olive darted back into the room. “Everyone’s ready. You guys coming?”
Gil brushed past her, giving her a quick kiss on her hair. “You’re gorgeous, little spinach. A perfect wedding planner.”
She blushed. “The wedding won’t work if the bride and groom are late.”
He laughed again. “Fine, I’m going.” He looked back at me, drinking in his colours and creation but only seeing me beneath it. Loving me despite everything.
My heart swelled and spilled over.
An affliction of love that would happen every day for the rest of my life because I was so unbelievably lucky to marry my soul-mate.
Gil winced as if he couldn’t bear to say goodbye. “Guess I’ll see you both soon.”
“You will.” I smiled softly.
“I’ll be the guy waiting at the altar.”
“I’ll be the woman walking up the aisle.”
“Don’t make me wait too long.” He drank me in one last time. Smiled at his daughter. And then, he left.
He left behind all the mess between us.
He walked into the future where all our dreams came true.
And I followed him.
THE END
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Blurb
“There was a boy once. A boy who wasn’t strong enough to save me when I was taken.”
“There was an owner once. An owner who bought me, entrapped me, and made me his unwilling goddess.”
Eleanor Grace is a naïve dreamer. Trusting and young, she believes her book-loving boyfriend can save her when her freedom is snatched and sold. Squirreled away to an island at midnight, delivered to a man even darkness won’t touch, she’s bound by a contract.
Sullivan Sinclair is the giver of fantasies. Any wish, any desire—he is the master at quenching even the filthiest appetites. His private paradise and perfectly trained goddesses are there for one purpose: to ensure every guest is extremely well satisfied.
He bought her.
He trapped her.
She belongs to him.
PLAYLIST
Imagine Dragons – Birds
Muse - Starlight
Keane – Somewhere Only We Know
Lady Gaga – Shallow
Rhianna – Stay
Bruno Mars – When I Was Your Man
Sam Smith – Too Good at Goodbyes
Gotye Ft Kimbra – Somebody I Used To Know
Hozier – Take Me To Church
Lady Antebellum – Need You Now
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ANOTHER BOOK.
Another thank you.
It never gets easier.
To all my beta readers who helped perfect this conclusion—you guys truly are invaluable and I’m forever grateful.
To all my amazing readers who came with me into yet another genre and (hopefully) enjoyed Gil and Olin’s story.
To the amazing bloggers who supported and shared, I couldn’t do this without you!
To all those who left reviews and suggested the book to friends, you are incredibly amazing and deserve so many, many thank yous.
To those who found me by chance, read a book by an unknown, and stuck with me with my crazy tales, THANK YOU.
To the original street teams and book lovers, thank you.
I’m so grateful for all your support and kindness.
Words aren’t enough.
But I’m always in your debt.
Pepper
xxx
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