by Sam Crescent
After their scenic flyover, they returned to the earth. Thanking the pilot, Poppy climbed back into the SUV and off they went, this time heading north on the Las Vegas Strip.
“Lunchtime?” she questioned.
“I have us booked only at the finest hamburger joint on Fremont Street.”
“So this day to relax also means a nice, juicy burger?”
“Of course.”
When he held out his hand, she took it, and they walked down Fremont Street until they came to an outdoor kitchen. She had expected something posh from Jason and enjoyed the down-home vibe of the environment. The cheeseburgers were tasty and the French fries were seasoned well. Poppy was surprised at the stories Jason told her, laughing at some of the situations he’d found himself in as a financier. Just a week ago, she would’ve said there probably wasn’t anything more boring than the financial world, but he managed to flip the narrative.
“So, we’ve got one more exciting thing to do on Fremont,” he said as they finished up their meal.
“Oh?”
He pointed up and she glanced skyward as four people went screaming by on zip lines. Her eyes widened in surprise.
“We’re doing that?”
He nodded, excitement highlighting the dark depths of his eyes. “Ever zip-line before?”
“No. I hate to say it, but I’m a pretty boring girl.”
“There’s absolutely nothing boring about you,” he said. “This is going to be a new adventure for you. There’s something amazing about flying under the viva vision.”
A thrill shot through her belly. “All right. I just hope I don’t upchuck the burger.”
He chuckled as he led her up the staircase to the zip line. Nothing but nerves kept her company as she was strapped in next to him. Then she was flying. The wind whipped over her face as she stretched out her arms like a superhero. Defying gravity. When the ride was over, she knew she’d be back.
“That was awesome,” she said, laughing. “You’re right, this was definitely a day of fun!”
From Fremont Street, they went more centrally on the Strip to witness the dancing water show in front of the Bellagio. Set to music, it was difficult to drag her gaze away from the elaborate choreography of the water cannons. Eventually, it was time for dinner, and Jason led her to an exclusive restaurant with a fantastic view of the city.
Surf and turf, with a New York strip cut with perfectly blanched lobster. Poppy hadn’t ever had such a delicious dinner and as she sat sipping her wine afterward, she finally admitted she had enjoyed herself. In fact, it had been quite a long time since she’d ever had such a wonderful adventure.
“I must admit,” she said. “You definitely know how to impress on a first date.”
“Hopefully not the last.”
“So the magic won’t disappear as soon as I’m a sure thing?”
He shook his head. “Of course not. I mean, there’ll always be fourteen- or sixteen-hour workdays. Life will be hectic at times, yes, but that’ll also give rise to relaxing when we can. To do fun things like today. My plan for the future is having a partner to work hard with, as well as to enjoy the moments we can kick back and relax.”
“A balance.”
“Yes,” he murmured. “The perfect balance with the perfect woman.”
“I’m hardly perfect.”
He gave a wry smile. “Obviously there are no perfect people. But you can be perfectly in sync with one another.”
“And that’s what we are?”
He reached out to stroke her fingers with his own. “I think we are. We have the same goals. Same passion. Same drive. We’re compatible in bed.”
“Are we? I don’t remember a bed being used.”
One eyebrow went up. “Is that a challenge?”
She shrugged. “An observation.”
He finished up his glass of wine and sat it down with a click. “Well, then, we’re going to have to rectify that, aren’t we?”
He stood and held out his hand. Poppy looked at it for a moment. She knew exactly where the evening was heading if she took it, but it didn’t scare her. Instead, she let the excitement fluttering around in her belly make the decision. She took his hand and let him lead.
He held on to her hand the entire drive home and once they closed the door behind them, Jason pulled her into his arms to claim her mouth. The kiss was a little bit rushed, a little bit raw, but it melted every last doubt she had about sleeping with him.
They hurried up to the bedroom, where their clothes were discarded haphazardly. Their lovemaking grew more urgent as lust flared between them. Poppy had never experienced such a frantic need to be with someone, and it was a bit overwhelming.
His fingers trailed down her body, the touch a little ticklish. Her stomach muscles rippled in protest until his fingers brushed across her pussy. He slipped a finger inside her folds and she moaned.
“You’re wet for me,” he murmured against her mouth. “So beautiful. All mine.”
He lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and brought her to the bed. With her arms wrapped around him, he tumbled backward on the bed and brought her down on top.
“You’re in control,” he murmured.
Poppy brought her knees up so she was straddling him. “Me?”
“Don’t you realize? I’m under your thrall. Everything I have and everything I am … it’s all yours.”
His words humbled her yet made her feel invincible at the same time. She took hold of his hands and placed them on her breasts. As he played with her nipples, she arched her back, giving him more access. She loved nipple play, the sensitive nubs sending electrifying pleasure through her body. His hard cock nestled against her ass. Lifting up slightly, she reached behind to grab his shaft and hold it up as she slid down. For a moment, they stared at each other, each savoring the sensation of being together. Then he gripped her hips and began to rock her. Back and forth, very tenderly and slowly, letting the passion build.
Driving her crazy.
“Jason!” she cried just as her climax hit, causing her body to shudder in the aftermath.
“My love.” He gasped just as his body surged against hers, shuddering with each spill inside her. After a moment, he relaxed back down and pulled her sweaty body with him, their hearts beating frantically in unison.
As the heat of passion cooled, their actions played through her mind.
“You didn’t wear a condom,” she said.
“I’m clean.”
“So am I,” she replied. “But that’s not what I was pointing out.”
“Ah,” he said, “you mean unexpected consequences. Would it disturb you to know I had a vasectomy?”
She blinked. That wasn’t what she had expected to hear. Did it disturb her? She was about to marry him and now he brought up the fact there probably wouldn’t be children. Did that bother her?
“Truthfully,” she said slowly, trying to articulate her thoughts. “I’ve never thought about children. They haven’t played into any of the plans I’ve made for my future. Then again, I never factored in you, either.”
“If the time comes, and we decide we want children, then I can have the procedure reversed.”
She looked up at him. “You’d do that?”
He traced the curve of her mouth with a fingertip. “I would do anything for you.”
Poppy laid her head on his chest. His steady heartbeat somehow soothed her. “Except let me go,” she whispered.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Poppy stared at the rack of wedding dresses that had been delivered early that morning. The wedding was set for the afternoon.
Am I really going to go through marrying a stranger? With all the tenderness he’d shown her, she no longer believed he would follow through on his blackmail. The past few days had shown her that Jason Macalik wasn’t the heartless bastard she had thought him upon their first meeting. Their date had proved he was thoughtful and considerate, and the whole blackmailing scheme didn’t mesh with those tra
its.
Plus, he laid out a future that appealed to her. Was it possible to entwine her life with someone she hardly knew, and make it work?
As she stared at herself in the mirror, she realized she had already made her decision. After rising from her vanity, she walked over to the numerous dresses and did a curious look through. Nothing appealed to her. Instead, she took out the pink skirt she’d worn at their first meeting and dressed in that. She smoothed down the line and inspected herself once more in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, she exited her bedroom to head downstairs.
Jason waited at the bottom of the stairs, glancing impatiently at the watch on his wrist. He was dressed in a dark suit and steel-gray tie, and like before, he took her breath away. Suddenly, he looked up and their gazes met. A tingle shot through her.
“By what you’re wearing, I’m not quite sure if you’re accepting or leaving,” he said.
“I’m accepting,” she murmured.
Satisfaction made his dark eyes gleam. “Did you not like the dresses I provided?”
“I preferred my own choice.” She continued down the stairs and walked up to him, to lay a hand on his cheek. “I hope I have more choices in the future.”
They stared at one another for a long moment until he took a deep breath and his shoulders dropped from their rigid stance.
“Do you want to know the real reason why I need you to be mine?”
She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“Why I insisted you marry me. You said want your choice. You think I don’t trust you. I never meant to make you feel inferior.”
“What did you think I was going to feel with having my freedom taken away?”
“I was thinking of myself. Of my own desires. But now … before we head to the chapel, I want you to know my motivation.”
“You’re going to tell me before the wedding is signed, sealed, and delivered?”
He took a deep breath. “I think you’ll understand when you see it.”
Curiosity captured her. “It?”
“Come,” he said, rising and holding his hand out to her. “The Courbet you’ve never seen before.”
Poppy wasn’t sure what the Courbet painting had to do with her, but if it solved the answer of Jason Macalik’s crazy idea of marriage, she’d greatly take it. The curiosity even outweighed the excitement for seeing the painting she’d been patiently waiting to inspect.
Once they reached the house, he led her up the stairs and back into his office. He opened a side door and revealed a ginormous safe standing floor to ceiling. Poppy narrowed her eyes, wondering what was so important that it had to be protected behind six-inches of steel. The door swung open and he stepped back, sweeping an arm for her to come forward.
With slight apprehension, she walked close enough to see the painting and immediately froze. Shock immobilized her and her jaw dropped even as words eluded her.
“Oh my God,” she said. “It’s … it’s me.”
That was an understatement. Her own blue eyes stared back at her from an identical face. The model’s black hair was longer than her own, pulled back in a messy braid that draped over her breast. The betrayal on her face so haunting it took Poppy’s breath away. The woman was beautiful. Ethereal. And painted over a hundred years ago.
That it was a Courbet wasn’t in doubt. She could see the man’s artistic signature immediately. It was the fact that it was like looking into a mirror. Even down to the tiny mole near her right eye.
“I’ve tried to find out who she was,” Jason murmured from behind her. “But there are no records.”
“I’m … I just don’t know what to say.”
“I fell in love,” he continued. “The moment I laid eyes on her, she became this tangible force that consumed my every thought. Over the years, I half convinced myself I was crazy but then I saw you. And lightning struck me again. She’s why I must have you as mine, Poppy.”
“I’ve never seen her in Courbet’s other paintings, so he must not have used her again,” she finally said, ignoring his statement for a moment. There was too much to digest right then. “We don’t even know her name.”
“I hid her from the world,” he said. “She was mine and mine alone.”
Poppy looked at him. “And you want to do that to me?”
He shook his head. “She was my whale, but you are my light. Marry me, Poppy, and we can be the positive force in each other’s life.”
She turned back to look at the painting, not sure what to think or say. That he now trusted her enough to share his motivation wasn’t lost, but his highhandedness still stung.
“You did this all wrong, you know,” she said. “You blackmailed me into marrying you, but all you had to do was be truthful with me. This would’ve made me stay. Falling for you would have been a bonus.”
He stiffened. “Past tense?”
She walked up to him and laid a hand on his jaw. “Silly man. We’ve known each other less than a handful of days. Of course, I can’t say I love you yet. But someone once told me that marriages were built from less.”
He cupped her hand and entwined their fingers. “Are you giving me hope?”
“I’m giving you me,” she replied. “Don’t fuck it up.”
Epilogue
She hadn’t looked at the wedding chapel all that much the first time she was there, but now Poppy took an interest in how Jason decorated for their wedding. The first thing she saw was her father. He stood in a corner, looking nervous.
“What’s he doing here?” she asked.
“He’s your father,” Jason replied. “I didn’t want you to regret not having him here for your special day.”
After signing the registrar, Poppy headed over to Albert.
“You can walk me down the aisle,” she said. “But I’ve not forgiven you yet. That’s going to take time.”
“I understand,” he murmured.
She smiled and held out her arms. He hugged her tightly.
The chapel was decorated with pink, red, and white flowers. They were everywhere, on every surface. Their sweet scent filled the small room. Jason waited at the altar and Albert led her toward him as the wedding march rolled softly through the speakers.
When they reached the altar, Albert turned toward her.
“Is this what you want?”
Poppy looked over his head into Jason’s eyes. She saw the adoration shining bright. “Yes. It’s my choice.”
The End
Explore more books by Beth D. Carter
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Copyright © 2021
Chapter One
Jasmine Berry sighed as she polished a silver teaspoon then set it on the immaculate white linen tablecloth. It had been a long day at The Balmorals Inn. A mean north wind had blown over the Cairngorms and around the old castle walls without taking a break.
Come to that, Jasmine had barely had a break either, but at least she’d been warm and cozy inside.
Now the last hotel guests had ascended to their lavish rooms, and the high-ceilinged dining room was empty. In a few hours, early risers would be searching for pots of tea, eggs, Wester Ross smoked salmon, and the odd slice of black pudding. But until then, there was just the sound of the antique clock ticking on the high oak mantel.
“Jasmine.”
“What? Jeez!” Jasmine spun around. “You made me jump right out of my skin, Natalie.”
Natalie grinned. “Sorry about that, hen.”
Jasmine frowned.
“You were miles away.” Natalie strolled across the room, weaving between tables and chairs.
“Just you know, thinking.” Jasmine’s attention settled on a huge painting of a stag standing majestically atop a mountain.
“You really love this place, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. It’s like another world.” She paused. “And it’s so far from Philadelphia.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Natalie asked, her Scottish accent
soft. “To be so far from home?”
Jasmine’s jaw tensed. She had no intention of talking about home. There was a reason she was living and working an ocean away from where she’d been brought up.
“It’s just so good to be here,” Jasmine replied diplomatically. “I never would have believed I’d be lucky enough to live and work in such a grand old castle. Turrets, drawbridge, a moat, loch views.” She smiled and set the last breakfast place. “It’s perfection.”
“You don’t miss take-outs, clubbing, the Super Bowl?” Natalie started emptying a glass washer.
Jasmine laughed and walked over to the bar. “No, that wasn’t my thing. I like a quiet life.”
“So, did you have a fella back home?”
The hairs on the back of Jasmine’s neck prickled. “No.”
Natalie paused and raised her eyebrows. “You said that a wee bit quick, hen.”
“Because it’s the truth. No guy worth mentioning.” Because why would she? Devon, her ex, was a violent criminal. Oh, not when she’d first met him. Then, he’d claimed to be a legitimate businessman, and he’d wined and dined her, taken her on a lavish trip to New York. But as the year passed, she saw his true colors, and they weren’t pretty, in fact, they were downright ugly.
He’d had someone who owed him money killed—she knew that, she’d overheard the conversation about how it was to be done slowly and painfully. He’d also used her as an alibi, threatening her if she didn’t agree to lie to the police.
There had only been one thing to do. Men like Devon didn’t take kindly to being dumped. In fact, it made them murderous.
So she’d slipped away in the middle of the night, taking a one-way ticket to Edinburgh, then another flight to Inverness where after seeing an advert in a local paper, she’d gotten lucky with The Balmorals Inn.
Since flying east over the Atlantic, she’d taken back control of her life. Devon and his nasty cronies were old news, and she considered the cost of leaving her diner job and small rental the price of well and truly learning her lesson—men were untrustworthy pigs and to be avoided at all costs.