Thrive (Guardian Protection)

by Aly Martinez

  I blinked, utterly confused. “It was like that happened…or that did happen?”

  He exaggerated a shrug. “I don’t know. But, hypothetically, if that really did happen, I’m assuming word would be out on the streets that someone else besides Mira York has possession of that money now. And again…hypothetically, I wouldn’t suggest opening another Sip and Sud any time soon.” He paused as my face fell, but he held a hand up, stopping me from speaking. “But I hear Apollo might be looking for someone to take Murphy’s off his hands now that he’s working for me full time.”

  My nose started to sting, and my throat got thick. Covering my mouth with my hand, I asked a muffled, “It’s over? Like really over? I don’t have to be his queen anymore?”

  Jeremy hooked me at my hips, and pulled me into his side, kissing the top of my head. “It’s over, baby. It’s just me and you from here on out.”

  That warmth inside me spread, filling me in unimaginable ways. “And your girls,” I whispered.

  I could feel it as his lips formed a wide smile. “And my girls,” he confirmed.

  “And our babies,” I squeaked, my free hand spreading across my belly.

  With his lips against my ear, he agreed. “And as many as you want.”

  Bitsy wiggled in my arm, as if reminding me that she was still there.

  “And Bitsy.”

  Jeremy didn’t speak again, but he pressed another kiss into my head.

  But it was Leo who had the last word.

  “Babe. Everyone knows that the queen is the most powerful piece on the board.” He walked over, offered Jeremy one of his hands in a shake, and then patted my back with his other. “Welcome to Guardian, Mira.”

  One week later…

  The sound of his alarm blasted through our bedroom. Okay, so maybe blasted was a bit of an exaggeration, but that was the way it felt when it jarred me from sleep.

  “Snooze,” I croaked.

  He chuckled. “I think hitting snooze four times is enough.”

  I stretched out, my front flush with his side. “Noooo. Just one more time. Everyone knows five is the magical number.”

  He transferred Bitsy from his chest—her new favorite spot to sleep—to mine and whispered, “Okay, you go for magic with number five while I take a shower.”

  I smiled and cuddled her in close, the sounds of Jeremy starting the shower quickly lulling me back to sleep.

  The day after the men of Guardian (and Mateo) had freed me of Kurt’s mess, Jeremy had taken me back to my old house to pick up the rest of my things. But the moment we’d walked into my bedroom, his hand tightly wrapped around mine, I knew there was only one thing I wanted to take with me.

  Jeremy.

  That house had never been my home. It had been my refuge from my life with Kurt. I had a shitty bed, an ancient dresser, a wobbly nightstand, and that fucking coffee table I’d bought after my divorce had been finalized.

  I didn’t want those things.

  And more, I didn’t want those memories following me into my new life with Jeremy.

  I was grateful I’d had those possessions when I’d needed them. But someone else could have them now.

  I just wanted Jeremy.

  I didn’t care where we went or how we got there. As long as I had him, the rest didn’t matter.

  Sherri and Tammy were more than happy to keep my things. With the room being furnished, it would be easier for them to rent it out.

  So, after hugs and murmured goodbyes, I’d ridden away, the armrest up, Jeremy pressed close to my side, and I’d watched a life of fear and regret disappear in the rearview mirror.

  His deep, rasping voice woke me again. “Time to get up, crazy. Apollo’s expecting you to sign the papers to Murphy’s at ten.”

  “I’m not signing those papers,” I grumbled, using my left hand to sweep my hair out of my face.

  A giant, white smile curled his mouth as he stared down at me, the most amazing twinkle shining in his eyes.

  “What?” I asked.

  He continued to stare—and smile—as he tightened the towel around his hips. “Nothing.” He flipped the lamp on.

  My lids slammed shut, my eyes objecting to the sudden brightness. “Jesus, a little warning.”

  He chuckled. “Get up. You’re signing those papers.”

  When I pushed up onto my elbows, Bitsy jumped off me and trotted to the end of the bed. “No, I’m not,” I replied. “He wants ten thousand dollars, Jeremy. Ten thousand dollars.”

  He dipped low and kissed me. It was chaste, but he was still smiling like a maniac.

  I narrowed my eyes on him. “Why are you so chipper this morning?”

  He shook his head, and that damn smile grew. “No reason.”

  He was so full of shit. While he wasn’t exactly a bear in the mornings, he wasn’t known to be Mary Sunshine, either.

  I rolled my eyes and tried to flip over, but he caught my hip. He sank down to the mattress. Even cranky and half asleep, I was unable to resist the opportunity to curl around him.

  Gliding his hand up my neck to cup my jaw, he ordered, “You’re signing those papers, Mira.”

  “Ten thousand dollars, Jeremy,” I repeated.

  “How much you got left of your Sip and Sud savings?”

  Ten thousand, three hundred, nine dollars, and twenty-nine cents.

  Of the original twenty-five grand I’d saved, I’d spent a large chunk of money over the last week. The first thing I had done was cut a check to Whitney for a year’s worth of rent. She was wearing a brave face and seemed to be doing better after the whole Jonah ordeal, but it would catch up to her eventually. Guilt consumed me every time I saw her dim eyes, where a spark had once been. She was staying at Braydon’s place in the short term. But I knew Whitney too well to assume she was moving in with him permanently. And, now that I was living with Jeremy, she wasn’t going to be able to afford a place on her own. I wished like hell I could have done more for her, but it had been a miracle that she’d even accepted that check from me at all.

  After that, I’d spent a little bit of my remaining savings on new furniture for Jeremy’s living room. It probably wasn’t my smartest splurge, considering I didn’t have a job yet. But he’d furnished the rest of the house. One room seemed like the least I could do.

  I stared up at him defiantly. “That’s not the point.”

  He grinned again. “You need to borrow some money?”

  “No. I have ten grand,” I huffed. “You know that. And, somehow, Apollo magically knows that too. Which is why I’m not signing those papers. That building alone is worth a cool million. It’s in a prime location in the middle of Chicago. Ten thousand dollars wouldn’t cover the cost of buying the barstools.”

  He caught my arm at the wrist and rested my hand on his thigh. “Then it sounds like a good deal, Mira.”

  “It sounds like charity.”

  His smile somehow got wider. “He’s keeping fifty percent. That’s hardly charity. He needs someone to run it. Someone with experience. Hell, you’ll be helping him out. The man is worth a fortune. But, if it will ease your conscience, just remember you’ll still be putting money in his pocket every month while he does his thing for Leo.”

  He had a point. Ten thousand dollars was a steal. But I hated the idea that he was offering me that bar out of pity. I’d had enough of that in my life. I didn’t need more.

  “Baby,” he whispered. Soft. Sweet. Gentle. Jeremy. “I have to get to work. Promise me you’ll sign the papers. This is a really good opportunity for you.” He kissed me again and rested our joined hands on my stomach. “For us.”

  Us. God, I loved the sound of that. I wasn’t pregnant yet. But, each time he talked about it, a bubble of excitement swelled inside me.

  I did need a job. And having one that enabled me to do something I loved, make my own schedule, and earn more than just tips sounded like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

  Sucking in a breath, I relented. “Fiiiine. I�
�ll sign the damn papers.”

  He winked. “Good. Now, I need to get to work because I just took a chunk out of my savings account that’s going to need to be replaced sooner rather than later.” He smiled so big that I thought his face was going to split in half as he gave the ring on my finger a pointed wiggle.

  My entire body locked up tight, and my heart stopped.

  Oh. My. God.

  It was a ring that had not been there when I’d fallen asleep the night before.

  A ring that had not been there when he’d woken me up in the middle of the night by sliding in deep from behind.

  A ring that had not been there when I’d drifted off to sleep in his arms, naked and sated.

  But it was a ring that completely and totally explained the shit-eating grin he’d been wearing all morning.

  “What did you do?” I hissed.

  True to his word, Jeremy had taken me ring shopping.

  It hadn’t gone well. Like, at all.

  And it was precisely the reason why I still hadn’t become a Lark yet.

  Two hours into our shopping excursion, Hyde and my bitchy attitude had had an all-out brawl.

  For too long, I’d had a man who’d bought me things and then treated me like shit. Now, I had a man who treated me like his most prized possession. I didn’t need things from Jeremy to feel loved. So I’d picked out something small and tasteful. (Read: cheap.) Then I’d attempted to explain to Jeremy that we were just starting our lives together. There was no point spending a small fortune on a ring I didn’t need.

  He had promptly lost his mind.

  “Seventeen years and you think I’m gonna buy you that piece of shit?” he’d said, swinging an angry arm toward the jewelry case.

  I’d swung my angry arm out to the jewelry case he was standing next to, all of the price tags containing at least one extra zero than the rings in mine. “Seventeen years and you think I want to start our marriage out with that kind of debt?”

  “I got fucking money, Mira,” he’d growled, thoroughly offended.

  “Fan-fucking-tastic. Let’s keep it that way,” I’d retorted snottily.

  He’d glowered.

  I’d scowled.

  We’d continued to argue—less than quietly.

  Then we’d been asked to leave.

  Without a ring.

  For five days, we hadn’t been able to broach the ring topic without an argument.

  Long story short, this was why waking up with what felt like a very large diamond on my finger had made my heart stop—and my blood boil.

  He quirked an eyebrow at me. “How is it possible that I somehow got the only woman on the planet who wants to bitch about her man buying her an engagement ring that didn’t come out of a gumball machine?” He stood up and sauntered to his closet while continuing to mutter, “It was bad enough I had to sneak the damn thing on your finger in the middle of the night like a goddamn ninja just to dodge a fucking snit fit.”

  “Who says you dodged it?” I snapped, but it held no heat. Probably because I was too busy inspecting the cushion-cut diamond surrounded by a halo of diamonds with even more freaking diamonds set into the band.

  To say it was gorgeous did it no justice.

  The ring was spectacular.

  And completely unnecessary.

  But still so ridiculously stunning that it made tears pool in my eyes.

  “We talked about this,” I whispered, petting the center stone as though it could feel the affection something that beautiful so obviously deserved.

  He tugged a pair of black boxer briefs on. “No. You talked about this. I pretended to listen and then did whatever the hell I wanted.” He flashed me a smile over his shoulder. “A trick I learned from you.”

  My mouth fell open. “I don’t do that!”

  “Oh, no?” He stepped into a pair of charcoal-gray slacks and turned to face me. “Then explain to me how I came home two days ago to a fucking couch and loveseat complete with yellow throw pillows and coordinating wall art?”

  I pressed my lips together. Yeah, okay. I’d done that.

  “We needed furniture,” I argued, but I did it while once again stroking my ring.

  He smirked. “And you needed a ring.”

  “No, I really—”

  “Stop,” he ordered gruffly.

  Surprised by his sudden attitude, I tore my gaze off my finger and found him prowling in my direction. His body was taut, the muscles in his neck straining, and the ridges on his stomach rippling. And yes, while still pissed off, I took the time to appreciate all of those things.

  Bending over, he caught the back of my neck and lifted me to meet him halfway. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to see my ring on your finger?”

  My mouth dried as guilt washed over me. Yeah. I definitely shouldn’t have fought him on the ring.

  “Baby, I—”

  His blazing gaze flicked to my hand. “To know that I gave you that? To know that I could finally afford to give you that? To see it while you sleep in my bed, under my roof, living a life I provided for us?”

  Chills pebbled my skin as I reached up with my right hand and cupped his cheek. “Jeremy, I—”

  His feet remained on the floor, but he bent lower and rested his forehead on mine. Using his thumb, he twisted my ring back and forth. “To see it when I make love to you, knowing I get to spend the rest of my life with you?”

  My chest ached, but not from pain. Something only weeks earlier I’d thought was impossible.

  “Baby,” I breathed, brushing my lips with his.

  His lids fluttered closed. “Jesus, Mira. That ring. It’s not about money. It’s about us. You do not get to give me shit about this. You do not get to have a snit fit. You get to say yes or no. That’s all.”

  It was a miracle my heart was still beating. That was my man: bossy, demanding, and still breathtakingly romantic at the same time.

  I nodded and then slipped the ring off my finger.

  He must have felt the movement, because his eyes popped open, a storm brewing within them.

  “Mira,” he warned.

  I pressed a kiss to his lips to silence him while dragging his hand off my neck. Blindly, I placed the ring in his palm and then closed his fingers around it.

  Only then did I whisper, “Yes.” I lifted my left hand between us and wiggled my ring finger at him. “If it’s so important to you that I wear what could be our future children’s college tuition around on my finger, I’ll be more than happy to oblige you. But, it’s important to me that you know I would still say yes with no ring. I love you. I’d marry you, Jeremy Lark, barefoot in the middle of the woods without a dollar to either of our names. Just like I should have all those years ago.”

  His face softened, and his eyes lit. “I know. And I love you too. Which is exactly why I want you to have this. You may not need it. But I’ve spent seventeen years of my life wanting to buy it for you. Let me have this moment, Mira.”

  I smiled, the tears finally rolling down my cheeks. I could do that. It wasn’t like wearing an unbelievably gorgeous ring was going to be a hardship. I’d spent seventeen years of my life wanting him to have bought it for me. Maybe something a little smaller and more cost effective. But who was I to argue?

  “It’s beautiful, Jeremy.”

  Putting his knee to the mattress, he tore the covers back. Poor Bitsy barely made it out of the way in time before he climbed back into the bed. “You’re beautiful, Mira.”

  His heavy weight came down on top of me, and then his mouth sealed over mine in a toe-curling kiss.

  In that moment, with his tongue swirling with mine, our hearts beating in harmony, and a future greater than I could have ever dreamed of laid out in front of us, it was easy to forget that the bruises inside us had ever existed.

  And the very next day, when we said, “I do,” at the courthouse, my engagement ring blinding everyone in the room, our hearts full, unexplainable happiness intoxicating us both, it was easy
to see that those bruises were gone for good.

  One week later…

  The house was quiet. I was sitting on the couch in the basement, my feet curled under me, a mug of coffee in my hand, my phone in the other. That once torturous Facebook app was open, my husband’s profile pulled up and a picture on the screen.

  Me and my girls.

  That was what the caption read.

  Short. Simple. To the point.

  Yet they were the most magical, glorious, beautiful, life-altering words that had ever been spoken—or, in this case, typed.

  The picture was stunning. Well, actually, it was horrible. My hair was plastered to my face with sweat, and my makeup had started to run after a day spent playing chase at the park. But Jeremy was beside me, Amelia on his lap and Sophie on mine, and all of our smiles were aimed at the camera. Yeah. That was what made the picture so stunning.

  When I heard Jeremy’s heavy footfalls upstairs, I pressed the little “like” button and then opened my text messages to send him a quick note to let him know I was in the basement.

  It was our first weekend with his daughters, and I’d been working myself into a frenzy while trying to make a good impression. This had included a homemade picnic at the park, cooking breakfast for dinner, and then letting them stay up late to eat ice cream and watch a movie. They’d passed out about halfway through, when the sugar rush had worn off, but I’d sat there on the couch, Jeremy’s arm slung around my shoulders, our legs tangled together on the ottoman, and watched them sleep for over an hour.

  God, those little girls were beautiful. Being with them had been so surreal. I’d expected to feel that familiar pang of jealousy I’d experienced when I’d seen their pictures, but the minute they’d walked through the front door, Jeremy acting as a pack mule for the massive bags of toys and clothes they hadn’t needed to bring with them, I’d fallen head-over-heels in love with them. How could I not? They were a part of him.