by London James
For me, there is more with Rowan. Always has been, always will be. He is my other half. I’ve known that my entire life, but has he?
What if I’m not what he wants when he wakes up tomorrow, married to me. What if he regrets it? My heart would shatter, again. He is the only one I know that can completely disassemble me and put me back together. It isn’t fair. Rowan is my life force. When we are good, my quality of life skyrockets. When we are apart and arguing, I’m hooked up to life support, barely breathing. I can’t expand my lungs fully until he is around.
I’m invested.
I’m enthralled.
I’m obsessed.
I don’t know how to break the cycle. And the worst part is, I don’t know if I want to. I want to be completely consumed by Rowan Michaels, forever.
My addiction.
My habit.
My reason for being.
Is it sad? Pathetic? Desperate? To love someone so much it completely changes everything I’ve ever believed and wanted? Maybe, but happiness is key. And Rowan is my key.
Chapter 25
Rowan
We get a chartered, exclusive helicopter straight from the airport to a hotel in Las Vegas. As we get out of the helicopter, the hot air already makes me start to sweat, but I love the heat. Everly looks around to see all the tall buildings, lights, and vast amounts of desert. She spins slowly, mouth agape, the lights sparkling in her eyes.
“I’ve never seen something look so big,” she marvels in awe.
I pout and run my hands down my shirt. “Well, that’s just insulting.”
She pushes my chest playfully, and I smile, holding onto her hand and twirling her around in a circle. Her smile is infectious. “You know what I mean, Rowan!”
“I know.” I kiss her forehead and wrap my arm around her waist. “Let’s go get checked in, and then we will hit the town, paint it red, fuck shit up, whatever you want to do. I’ll do it.”
“I’m hungry,” she says.
“You’re going to break my billionaire status just because of your appetite.”
“Better start investing that money now, then,” Everly shrugs her shoulders, as if she doesn’t care.
“Feeding you is an investment,” I laugh, guiding her toward the elevator from the helicopter pad.
She crinkles her nose, and it causes her freckles to hide. I bop her nose, and her face relaxes again. There they are. “Are we staying here?”
“No. We are staying somewhere bigger, better.”
“Better than a place with its own landing pad?” she asks with disbelief.
“Oh, yeah. Only the best for me and my girl.”
The smile she gives me is so blinding; all of her teeth show, and that little dent in her chin gets a little deeper again. I have this weird urge to lick it. I want to lick all of her. I’ll do it later, that’s for sure.
“Where are we going?”
“Well, I was thinking we could get a drink, walk the strip, visit the hotels you want, and you pick,” I offer, pulling my wallet out to tip the bellman that is stuck on the elevator, waiting for people like us to fly in and go out on the town. I slide him a few hundred bucks, shake his hand, and say thank you.
When the elevators doors open, a huge lobby comes to view with a large marble floor and high, painted ceilings. She spins around, just like the small-town girl that she is, taking in the city. I’ve always loved her outlook on life. She always appreciates what she sees. Everything is beautiful to her.
“This place is massive,” she says. Everly’s eyes dart everywhere, taking it all in.
“Let’s go. The night is young, and I want to take you everywhere.”
She holds her hand out, silently asking for me to take it. “Let’s go. Show me your wicked ways.”
As we stroll down the strip, a few places come into view — the Bellagio, the Venetian, Caesar’s Palace. The sun goes down, and the lights of all the hotels and casino light up the night. Dancers, singers, and Elvis impersonators walk by in their bedazzled outfits and fake wigs, but some of them seem to have a nice set of hair, jet-black and slicked back.
Everly loves it. She has no idea where to look. Every time she looks at me, she doesn’t notice all the other men looking at her, but her emeralds are only for me. I smirk at the guys as they walk by. This sassy little siren is all mine.
But one’s eyes linger a bit longer, and his hand reaches for her. She tries to pull away, but he tightens his hold on her, causing her to jerk back, and her hand leaves mine.
“Let go of me!” she screams.
“Oh, come on, sugar. We are all here for a good time,” the man laughs coarsely. He reeks of sweat and alcohol. He knows nothing about boundaries, apparently.
I grab his wrist and press two fingers against a pressure point, turn his wrist up, and yank it behind his back. “I should fucking kill you for touching her,” I growl.
“Rowan, let’s go.” The fear in her voice only causes me to tighten my hold.
The stranger cries out and tries to arch his back away from me. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry.”
A crowd of onlookers stop and stare. Women have their hands over their mouths, muttering, and men are assessing the situation, wondering if they need to jump in. Testosterone, it is such a fickle thing. But I’m fine. I have this under control.
“That’s my wife that you decided to touch, without her permission.” I turn him around, making sure I have a good hold on him. “Now, apologize.”
“Just let me go,” he begs.
“Not until you apologize.”
“Rowan, it’s fine. Let’s just go.” Everly begs, her eyes taking me back to the day that Malcolm put his hands on her.
The memory has me tightening my hold a little more. Any tighter, and I’ll break his wrist. I kind of want to, just to show him not to fuck with people, especially since you don’t know who the hell they can be messing with. “Fucking apologize to her.” I lean forward and whisper in his ear, making sure no one can hear me, “I’m one of the wealthiest men in the United States. I will ruin you. Do you understand that? You won’t be able to go anywhere. You won’t be able to get a job. I’ll have people watch you and tell me every move you make, and if you harass another woman, I’ll make you disappear.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I won’t touch you again.”
“Or anyone that doesn’t ask to be touched,” I snarl.
“Or anyone,” he says.
“Good boy,” I grit and throw him on the sidewalk. I run my hands my five-hundred-dollar shirt and turn my head to see Everly with her hand over her mouth. I hold out my arm, telling her to come to me.
She runs right into my embrace, grasping my chest for protection and safety. Tightly, I wrap my arms around her and continue down the sidewalk. People part, a few guys holler at me, but I don’t pay them any mind. I don’t care about them. I care about her.
“Let me see your hand,” I demand.
She lifts her wrist, and what I see has my blood boiling. A bruise is already starting to form. Tomorrow it may even be black. The fucker. I should have broken his wrist just like he almost broke hers.
“I’m okay,” she insists, stopping me in my tracks when she stands in front of me.
I’m seething. She isn’t okay. She isn’t okay at all. “He hurt you.”
“And you saved me, like you always do. Come on, let’s not let that asshole ruin our vacation.” She stands on her tiptoes and gives me a kiss. It’s hard to stay mad when I have someone as sweet as Everly.
“Lead the way, baby,” I say, lacing my fingers through hers, on the hand that isn’t injured.
After stopping and getting a strawberry daiquiri, her eyes land on the Venetian. It is one of the best hotels in Vegas.
“Wow,” she whispers, staring up at the large building.
“Want to stay here?”
“Have you stayed here before?” she asks, but with other intentions.
“Oh, I like it when yo
u are jealous.”
“I’m not. I’m just wondering,” Everly says.
“Gray has stayed here, but I haven’t. Come on, let’s go.”
And there’s that smile. The one that takes my breath and stills my heart. A part of me wonders if we are insane for doing this. I mean, get married? We barely know each other anymore, but this high I have around her, I never want it to end. She makes me feel so good, so powerful, so strong.
She is in front of me, wearing a light purple sundress, practically dragging me behind by my hand. Everly sips her drink and heads right toward the front desk. The woman there is wearing a black dress with a red ribbon around her neck. She greets us with a kind smile. Her hair is pulled back so tight; I wonder if that is the reason she is grinning. Damn, that has to hurt.
“Hi, welcome to the Venetian. How may I help you today? Do you have a reservation?”
Everly bounces on her heels and slides her eyes to me. I gesture with my chin to tell her to go ahead, and tell the kind lady what we want.
“Do you have any rooms available?”
The lady grimaces. “I’m sorry. All single rooms are booked for tonight.”
“Oh,” Everly pouts. “Thanks anyway.”
“Wait a minute.” I take off my sunglasses, and the clerk gasps.
“Mr. Michaels, why didn’t you say it was you?”
Everly rolls her eyes. “Right, I forgot.”
“You forgot I’m a billionaire?” I ask in a monotone, disbelieving voice.
“I’m used to the kid driving a beat up Toyota truck with the rusted doors. I’m not used to Rowan ‘let me hand you my card because I can buy anything’ Michaels.”
“Which one do you like more?” I ask, handing said card over to the front desk receptionist.
“The verdict is still under review. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” She sports a smug smile.
“Okay, you are all booked for the penthouse. I hope you all enjoy your stay and if you need anything, please feel free to ask us. Complimentary champagne has been delivered to your room. Enjoy.”
“Oh, yum, champagne.” Everly rubs her hands together as we make our way to the elevator. “Let’s drink it and go out for the night.”
The elevator doors slide open, revealing an empty cart. Something about elevators and Everly. I wonder if this one will shut down too. I have this fantasy and this time, I want to fuck her against the wall, preferably while it is scaling up the building. The adrenaline. The wonder. The fear of getting caught.
It will be exhilarating.
Because it will happen. I don’t care if I have to rent an elevator for an hour to make sure no one goes on it; I’m going to fuck her in one someday. Just the thought has my cock getting hard.
When the elevator doors slide shut, her breath hitches as if she can smell the lust and desire coming off me in waves. Good, because it is. I back her into the wall, running my hand up her smooth leg, and play with the flimsy material of her dress. One good yank and I could tear this thing off of her.
“Rowan, what are you doing?”
“I want you.” A deep rumble shakes my chest as I stare down the low-cut neckline of her outfit. Her breasts are pushed up, tempting me with cleavage. I lick my lips, debating on how far I want to take it. My fingers lift her dress and gravitate toward the sweet slit between her thighs.
Everly whimpers my name, “Rowan. We can’t.”
Oh, we can. We most definitely can. “I bet I can get you off before we get to the penthouse.”
“If we don’t get caught.”
“Isn’t that the fun of it?” I grin, sucking her earlobe into my mouth. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Maybe it is because I’m about to marry her, and it has my system all ramped up and ready to go. This is going to be forever.
She is my forever.
My fingers brush their way through her hair, searching for the erect little nub that sends her screaming. I press against it and circle the bundled-up nerve endings under my finger. Her hands slam against the rails lining the walls, but the elevator stops a few stops below our floor. I pull my hand from between her legs, leaving her gasping for air. Sucking my fingers into my mouth as I lean against the wall beside her, a few men come on and nod their heads at us.
Her face is flushed, and I know that her pussy is wet, just begging for me to come back, but there are people on the elevator… just whatever can be done about that?
Chapter 26
Everly
After Rowan’s manhandling in the elevator, I had him fuck me against the floor-to-ceiling window once we got into our room. Then we chugged the champagne, and now we are walking the sidewalk of the strip. The one thing the man hasn’t done yet is feed me.
I’m starving.
“Oh, let’s go here!” It’s a sushi restaurant called Rho.
“Anything you want. You’re in charge here.”
“Oh, I like that.” I bat my eyelashes at him as I peek over the curve if my shoulder.
“Behave,” he says.
“Never.”
We follow the hostess to a private booth locked away in a room that Rowan has no problem paying for. I order sashimi and a spicy yellowtail roll. He orders the same thing, and as the night passes, we eat all of our food, laugh, kiss, and drink. It’s perfect.
By the time I’m finishing off my third drink, he kisses my shoulder, and I sigh. “Are you sure you want to marry me?” I ask, feeling more bold. Now that I have a few drinks in my system, I’m ready to know the truth.
“I couldn’t be surer. I want us to be together. Don’t you think we have spent enough time apart, wasted enough time being mad or hurt? I’m ready to finally have my life with you, Everly.”
The words of reassurance bring so much relief. “I needed to hear that.”
“I’ll tell you every day for the rest of our lives, if that’s what it takes.”
I lean into him, puckering my lips for a kiss. “As much as I would love that, I think after ten years, I won’t need to hear it anymore.”
His eyes bug out, “Ten?”
“I’m just kidding,” I slur a bit. “Five, at the max,” I giggle. Oh, man am I getting drunk. So, so drunk. It feels good. So, so good.
“Let’s get out of here. There is so much to do.” He takes my hand, and we wave to the hostess as we leave. That food was delicious. I’d want to fly here every day just to have that sushi.
As we start walking down the street again, Rowan is telling me all about school and how he dropped out to develop the company. I know this because I have that scrapbook that tells me everything he has ever accomplished in this life.
But I don’t tell him that because I need to save my crazy until after we are married, right? The further down the strip we get, the darker the lights seem to get. They are reds, dark blues, and purples. It looks dangerous; like it holds the type of energy a person is probably going to try to ignore.
Not me. I want to see what this is about. “What’s this place?”
There is no name on the front of the building, but I hear low, sensual music, and moaning. Why do I hear that? Is this a strip club? There isn’t anyone outside, but it is some type of business.
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t look safe. Come on, Everly. Let’s go check out one of the casinos.”
Oh, but I don’t want to gamble. I want to see what’s inside the mystery building. “Please, Rowan?” I give him big, puppy dog eyes. It always used to work on him in the past. The desert night is getting cooler, and the breeze picks up, making me shiver. If anything, I just want to go inside to get warmed up.
“Okay, but only for a second. I don’t trust the look of this place.”
And I think that is the point. The outside is painted black—even the metal doors for the entrance. Blue and purple lights spill from the frosted windows, but I can’t see what else is going on in there.
“Stay beside me. Keep a hold of my hand, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a salu
te.
“I like it when you call me that.” He lifts his fist and pounds on the door.
Bang, bang, bang.
Instead of the door opening, someone slides a small square box over. Black eyes look at us through the hole, assessing and dangerous. “Password?”
Uh, well. I have no idea. “Please?” I say.
The man behind the door tosses his head back and laughs. That’s when I see the tattoo on his neck of skulls and flames, and it makes me gulp. “Oh, sweetheart. You are so out of your element here.”
“It’s why I’m here. I want to be out of my element,” I say with my shoulders back and back straight. I’m not ashamed of who I am or what I look like. If this guy is giving me a hard time for that, then that is a fault he has to live with.
“Okay, let me try, killer,” Rowan says as he steps forward, keeping a hard grip on my hand. “My name is Rowan Michaels. Owner of LifeRight Financial. How much will it take to get in?”
The man’s eyes behind the door widen. He slams the latch shut, and then the groan of the steel sounds as he opens the door. “I know you. Your app helped me save for the down payment of my first house.”
“That’s great, man. Happy to hear it. So, if you know who I am, you must know I have a lot of money.”
“Man, I’m not supposed to let anyone in that doesn’t know the password,” he says, like it pains him to turn a billionaire away. It should. They are losing a lot of money.
Rowan grabs his wallet and grabs five one hundred dollar bills. “Is this the password?”
The man licks his lips, tempted, but still shakes his head. “I can’t, Mr. Michaels.”
“I can respect a man that stays true to his job, but how about…” Rowan grabs more hundreds out of his wallet, and I’m wondering how he can sit on the thing when it’s so fat with money. “How about you go buy your lady something special, huh? And let me and my lady in.”
I don’t even know how much money is there. I’ve never seen so many hundred-dollar bills in my entire life.