by Jane Henry
I bend my mouth to hers and brush my lips over hers. She sighs and places her hand palm-down on my chest. I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck, wild possession thrumming through me.
I want to conquer this woman. She’s shown signs of jealousy, and it’s inspired jealous thoughts of my own. I want her, all of her, and I don’t want anything to come between us. Not contracts or ex-girlfriends or fears about what’s next. She trusts me. I don’t want to betray that trust.
“Darius!” Gran shouts from just outside the barn. We break our kiss and scramble to our feet, brushing hay off of each other.
“Oh, there you two are!” Gran says with a wicked grin. She knows exactly what she’s doing. “I need some help stringing these lights up. I’ve got the ladder set up and did a few, but I’ve got lots more to do. Help an old lady?”
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m doing it for you. Don’t you dare get up that ladder again.”
Gran rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to fall.”
“Said literally every person who fell off a ladder, ever,” I say firmly.
She rolls her eyes at Katie. “Always a bossy one.”
“Tell me about it,” Katie mutters back.
I string up the lights while Katie works with Gran in the kitchen. We’ve tried telling her a dozen times or more that it’s her party and to let us arrange things, but honest to God she likes being busy. She likes doing things. So I let them, even though a part of me feels guilty.
Is it wrong that I’ve introduced them to each other like this? Will it hurt Gran when Katie goes home?
Will it hurt me? Jesus, I don’t want this to end. But how can a guy like me give someone like her what she needs? Have I been lying to myself all these years, telling myself that I don’t want to settle down, that I’m happy alone, and that I enjoy one-night stands and nothing more?
Or was it just that I’d never met the right girl?
That I hadn’t yet met... her.
I tear my gaze from her face, pushing these thoughts from my mind and focus on the task at hand. Lights are strung up in the back, music filters through speakers, and catered food lines tables. Katie and I go to our separate rooms to change quickly just before the first guests arrive.
Everyone I’ve known from childhood comes. Friends and family, neighbors and cousins, filling the large back yard to celebrate Gran.
There’s laughter and music, and the company of friends, as Katie joins me at a little table in the far back under a string of white lights. She wears a pale yellow dress, her hair in curls. She looks so at home here, like she belongs. Gazing at her here in the Georgia sunset makes me long for this again. A simpler life. The comforts of home.
Only this time, there’s a beautiful, brilliant woman who sits by my side and truly enjoys my company, not just the zeroes attached to my name.
“It’s so lovely,” Katie says, her eyes dancing. She frowns. “It’s just… well, sorry to say, but I like it better than your fancy penthouse.”
I chuckle at that, lean over and tickle her side. “Oh you do, do you?”
She giggles. “I do,” she says. “It must get kind of lonely in the penthouse. Doesn’t it?”
Lonely? She has no idea.
I feel myself hardening at the thought of revealing too much, of getting too personal. Katie goes home soon, and I won’t send a part of my heart with her.
Too late, I think. Too fucking late.
“Lonely?” I say with a forced laugh. “In the city that never sleeps? With thousands of people in and out of my hotel every day?”
Katie grows quiet. “You can be lonely in a crowded room.” She sighs. “Ask me how I know.”
I take her hand and give her a little squeeze.
She sighs and rests her head on my shoulder. “Will you tell me why you left?”
A muscle clenches in my jaw, and I open my mouth to tell her, ‘not today.’ But something comes over me, then, and for some reason, maybe because I’m bewitched by the evening or her soft, unpretentious voice, or the fact that I’m home again, I tell her.
“I lost my family in a car accident when I was just eight years old, and Rawley was six. Gran took us in and raised us.”
“Ohh,” she says in a sad voice. “Darius.”
I push on, wanting this to be pragmatic and brief, ignoring the catch in my voice. “She raised us like we were her own. Taught us to work hard, educate ourselves, and how to be real men. But I wanted more than this. I wanted to prove myself. We didn’t have any money, and my dreams and aspirations of playing professional football went to hell when I was injured.”
She listens quietly, and I rub my thumb over the top of her hand. “I still wanted more and to prove myself. So I struck out on my own. And I did.”
“You did,” she says softly. “And you did an amazing job. Look how far you’ve come.”
I lean over and kiss her temple. She didn’t judge or question or criticize. She just listened and understood. And maybe sometimes that’s all that you need. To be heard and understood.
“You’re a good girl, Katie Kat,” I whisper in her ear, but she doesn’t respond. Her eyes are narrowed, and her body’s gone still. I look on instinct to where she does, and feel my own body tighten, prepared to defend her. To protect her. To do whatever it takes, for that quickly I know that something’s gone afoul.
Tiffany stands only a few feet apart from us, waving her phone at Rawley and stabbing her finger at Katie. Oh no. Jesus. What’s she doing?
I’m on my feet before I know it, when Tiffany stalks over to us with narrowed eyes and a smirk.
“Well would you look at that,” she says, tipping her head to the side, her voice loud and magnified. “Seems someone got in trouble for hiring an escort. Seems your publicist did her level best to hide such a story, yet there it is, for anyone to see.”
More and more of the guests are paying attention now. Rawley looks from me to Tiffany. His eyes go wide, then he takes a step toward her.
“Put it away, Tiff,” he says, but she predictably ignores him.
“Are you that desperate?” Tiffany says with a loud cackle. “You couldn’t even get a real date, you had to use your billions of dollars to buy one?”
“Tiffany,” Rawley says. He swipes at her phone, but she stalks away.
Katie’s on her feet, her hands balled into fists. “How dare you say that about him! How dare you?”
“Now don’t make a scene, little escort,” Tiffany says in a sickening tone. “Or I will find that pen name you so carefully hide.” She shakes her head. “I will find it and I will ruin you. I have an army of social media followers and I am not afraid to use them.”
I take Katie by the hand and pull her over to me. I wrap my arm around her, holding her close by my side. “We had an agreement, alright—”
Tiffany cuts me off with a point of her long hot pink fingernail. “So you admit it then!”
“But no more. We fell in love. Now she’s mine. You won’t threaten her, and you won’t touch a hair on her head. If you do, you’ll answer to me. Understood?”
I look to Rawley. “Get her out of here,” I say, barely containing my temper. “Or I will.”
Luckily for Tiffany, my brother drags his witch off to calm down. Turning to Katie, I take her in my arms and lead her to a private corner of the yard to apologize. She’s trembling. With wide, glassy eyes she stares at me in disbelief, tears glistening on her cheeks, her pouty lip hanging slightly open as if she’s in shock. And she must be, after the torture I’ve put her through. She’s probably going to ask me to drive her to the airport right now, to leave here and never want to see me again.
What have I done to this poor girl by bringing her here?
Chapter 15
Katie
We fell in love.
The words swirl around my mind, making my head feel light, erasing every mean word the no-good, carb hating, busybody spewed at me.
We fell in love.
He loves me
.
Or... did he just say that?
He shakes my shoulder. “Katie. Katie, did you hear me? I can call for a car right now if you want me to take you to the airport.” He runs his hand through his hair giving his head an agitated shake. “Or, if you want to go alone, I understand.”
My mouth finally begins to form words and they come out as a hushed whisper of disbelief. “You love me. You... love me?”
When his eyes meet mine, pain shoots through his gaze, making me think I’ve made a terrible mistake. That I misheard him. Or, that he was just tossing that line out as yet another line to solidify our fake relationship.
Or... did he just say those words to get Tiffany off my back?
We fell in love.
My tears of joy turn to tears of humiliation as he stands before me, frozen, speechless, his attention locked on the ground beneath his feet.
He doesn't answer me. He doesn’t look at me.
I feel my heart break into two pieces, one falling in each of my shoes. Expensive shoes, ones he bought just for me.
He loves me not.
In my mind the petal falls, only this time there’s no bonus love petal hiding on the back of the flower head, waiting to be discovered. He still hasn’t spoken. And I turn to walk away.
A firm hand grabs my shoulder, spinning me back. Strong arms surround me, pulling me close. His gaze burns into mine, his hands cupping either side of my face. “Yes, Katie Kat. I love you. I’ve loved you ever since you snuck into that buffet line in my hotel. I love you, and I want you for my own.”
And his lips find mine. He’s kissing me, and it's a kiss marking the beginning of something, and the end of something else.
Our charade is over.
Our love is real.
And Tiffany and every single one of her Instagram trolls can take to the internet and say whatever they want to about me. Because I’m the one who’s found the happy ending.
He loves me as I love him.
He pulls away, his hands still holding my face. His gaze should be happy, matching the elation that I feel, but it's not. His dark brow is furrowed.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I search his eyes.
“It’s just that... well. This is awkward for a man like me to ask, but... do you feel the same way?” His brow knits as he studies my face.
A choked laugh escapes through my tears of joy. “Of course I do! I love you to the moon and back. You’re my…” I go to hold the word in but my heart wells in my chest so much I fear it will burst and it comes rushing forward, “you’re my daddy.”
And he’s kissing me again. A deep kiss with his arms around me. One that tells me he loves me, and he doesn't care who knows it.
The rest of the evening is spent snuggled into his side, his arm never leaving my shoulders. Tiffany and Rawley have disappeared, taking with them their sour air of disappointment and jealousy. Thankfully, the rest of the guests are polite enough to pretend the drama they witnessed never happened.
I meet his cousins, aunts, and uncles. His friends from college, from high school. They tease me for saying I’m from Ne-VAD-uh, I playfully reprimand them for mispronouncing my home state. He has such a full life here, such a loving community, I hope for his sake that one day he’ll make peace with the pain of his past and reconnect to his people.
Because it’s obvious from the smiles on their faces that they love him.
And he loves me.
They bring out the cake. Three layers with chocolate frosting and eighty sparkling candles, all lit up, threatening to burn the town down. Happiness shines from Gran’s face as we sing Happy Birthday to her. Her family helps to blow out the candles as she declares this to be the best day of her life.
Internally, I tell myself the very same thing. Today is the best day of my life. I look up at Darius, just to be sure this is real, that he's real, and he smiles down at me, kissing the top of my head.
My dream daddy.
The rest of the evening is a blur. At the end of it, I find myself overtired, Darius carries me up the stairs to bed. He helps me change, tucking me under the quilt. He leaves me with a kiss on my forehead. “I love you, Katie Kat.”
“I love you, too,” I murmur as I fall asleep, visions of wedding dresses and white picket fences in my mind.
In the morning when it’s time to leave, Gran pulls me aside. “It sure was lovely getting to know you, Katie. I declare, I’ve never seen my boy so happy as he is when he’s with you.”
“Aww, thank you. I’m quite happy myself.”
Her sparkle dulls as her gaze grows serious. “There is one thing I feel like I should tell you.”
I bristle, half expecting Tiffany to come up again. To find that she and Darius have some secret lovechild or were married before or—
She stops my overactive writer's imagination with a soft hand to my arm. “Katie dear, I know you two aren’t really engaged. I saw the news report.”
“But Darius said you don’t watch television. How did you…”
She gives me a pointed look. “It was sent to me.”
“Ah.” The Peach Queen strikes yet again. Shame fills me at his grandmother knowing about our escort beginning. But then I remember his words of love and I feel happy, and proud. “Well, all relationships have to start somewhere, don’t they?”
“That’s exactly what I was going to say. The engagement may have been fake, but after seeing you two together, I know the love is real.” She pulls me in for a warm hug. “And you know what, I have a feeling that the next time you come back here, you’re gonna have the right kind of ring on your finger. The one that lets you two share a bedroom.”
A wedding band? “Do you really think so?”
She releases me with a soft smile. “I really do. I have a sense about these things. And I know Darius better than anyone else does. Except maybe you, that is.” She gives me one of her famous winks.
We say our goodbyes and get into the town car that will take us back to the airport. Darius has all our bags loaded in the trunk, but as we pull away, I feel a nagging suspicion we’ve left something behind. “Where’s my backpack?”
He waves his hand, gesturing behind him. “In the trunk with your other bags. All... of your other bags. For someone so small, you sure pack a lot.”
As we pull down the drive, I think back over the whirlwind packing job I did early that morning. I was flying on cloud nine and could have easily left my laptop on the nightstand. In fact, I’m certain I did leave it on my nightstand. “Do you mind if we pull over and check?”
“Of course.” He stops the driver and gets out with me. The trunk opens and I see my backpack. Lifting it, I feel the weight of my computer inside, but I still pull back the zipper to check. It’s in there, but in the main section of the bag, not the protective sleeve I usually slide it into. Knowing I was so deliriously tired last night, my man literally had to carry me up the stairs, I chalk it up to fatigue.
“All set?” Darius looks to me for my approval.
I give him a nod. He shuts the trunk and we get back into the car, headed for home.
The flight is uneventful. I’m still buzzing from our shared declaration of love. I don’t even feel scared during landing.
We arrive in Vegas, and I step out into the hot, dry air. And find myself missing the lush green of Georgia. But at least my hair is manageable once again. I take my backpack, throwing it onto my shoulders, Darius insists on carrying my other bags for me, as he always does, that’s just the daddy in him and I love it.
Then it hits me... where am I going?
He takes our things, handing them to his Vegas driver, the one who took me home after our first night together. Is he dropping me off at my apartment, first, then heading to his penthouse?
I stand on the sidewalk feeling like a lost orphan, unsure of where I belong.
He’s opening the door for me, yet my feet won’t budge. His brows knit in confusion. “Are you going to get in or am I going to have to pick y
ou up and put you in this car like I put you in the bed last night?”
It’s too much to tell him what I’m thinking. To admit that I want to go with him. I mean, we’ve just spent like two whole weeks together. He probably needs a break. “I-I just... um. I just don’t know where we’re going.”
“Daddy’s taking you home.”
“To my apartment?”
“No. I said, daddy’s taking you home. Now get your ass in this car, little girl. It’s hot as hell out here.”
My heart fills to the brim, spilling over into a giggle. I rush to the car, receiving a stinging swat on my rear as I crawl across the seat.
He rolls the smoky privacy glass up in the car, hiding us from the driver. “Opaque, and soundproof. Just what we need so I can get a little playtime with my Katie Kat.”
He kisses my neck, that soft spot at the base that makes a moan rise from my throat. He pulls me up and over him. I’m straddling him, my knees on either side of his thighs. He pulls me down on his lap, and I feel the bulge of his hardening erection through the thin fabric of my leggings. He kisses me, and as he does, I steal every ounce of pleasure I can, rubbing against him and riding him as he cups and squeezes my breasts.
His mouth finds my ear and his breath is hot, tickling my lobe. “The ride to the hotel is short. Just wait till I get you home.”
A thrill runs through me at the promise of what’s in store back at the hotel.
He’s nibbling and sucking the delicate flesh above my collarbone, driving me wild. My back arches, my head lolls over my shoulder and I’m practically purring.
I’m in heaven.
He kisses my ear. “We’ve got to give you some more inspiration for your book, haven’t we?”
My hips stop moving. My body freezes, my eyes popping open. The book. This all started when I came to his hotel to find inspiration to unblock my writer's block. So much of my story has become about him.
Has become... him.
What will happen if he reads it?
And... what of the fact that this little tale is a daddy book? His private life has already been splashed over the news. How will he feel if someone puts two and two together, figuring out that Scarlet Rose, author of Beauty and her Daddy Beast, is actually me?