“Atlas … fuck me. Fuck me until I pass out; fuck me until I scream and the whole of the city can hear me.”
Atlas dropped the paddle and flipped her onto her back, his hard, throbbing cock straining to be inside her again and he thrust in hard, pinning her hands above her head, his green eyes dangerous and full of determination. It took Ebony’s breath away when he was like this.
Atlas fucked her until she was, as promised, screaming, then finally let her recover. “We don’t have do try everything tonight,” he said, tender now, “but I have to say, the thought of having you in every way does turn me on.”
Ebony trailed a finger down his chest, looking up at him from underneath her lashes. “As it does me … I do have one favor to ask.”
“What’s that?”
Ebony grinned widely. “Do you mind if I take these nipple clamps off? They are killing me.”
Atlas had arranged for them to go to dinner in an exclusive restaurant a little way out of the city center and as they ate, swooning over the food, Atlas stroked his finger down her cheek. “You know what I was thinking?”
“Usually sex, in your case,” Ebony shot back with a grin. “But no, what?”
“One day, and I’m not saying soon, but one day, I’d like to have another child. Our child.”
Ebony smiled. She knew what he meant even though they already considered Fino—who was Atlas’s nephew in reality, and Matty, whose biological father wasn’t Atlas—their children in every sense, making a baby that was truly their own was both of their dreams. “I know, darling. And if it wasn’t for my career, I would have it tomorrow. But I do need to do this first.”
“Oh, I know. Ebs, you can’t imagine how proud I am. You’re a superstar.”
“Ha, not quite, but thank you, baby.”
Atlas kissed her. “Mark my words … this album is going to go global.”
Ebony, skeptical, nevertheless appreciated his praise, but it wasn’t until the following day when she even believed it a little. Roman Ford telephoned her, apologizing for interrupting her vacation. “Is Atlas with you at the moment? I think you should both hear this.”
He sounded so excited that Ebony’s heart began to thump harder as she switched the call to speakerphone. “Okay, Roman, go ahead.”
“Ebony … the Grammy nominations were announced this morning.”
Ebony’s heart leaped—but at the same time, she felt sick. Her first album had been roundly praised by critics but had failed to secure any Grammy love at all. Surely it would be the same this time …?
“You’ve been nominated. Best Jazz Vocal Album for Angelheart.”
Ebony let out her breath in a long whoosh. “Oh my God,” she whispered as Atlas let out a whoop. Roman laughed.
“And …”
Another Grammy nomination?? Holy cr… “And?”
“Album of the Year.”
“No.” Ebony felt all the blood rush to her head and she sat down. Atlas wrapped his arms around her, his smile wide and triumphant.
“And …” Roman was clearly having fun. “Song of the Year for the title track.”
“No fucking way …” Ebony rarely cursed, but her entire body was trembling. This couldn’t be happening. “You’re just teasing me now, Roman.”
“And …”
He surely wasn’t going to say what she thought he was, was he? It was impossible.
“Record of the Year.”
The big one. The Grammy everybody wanted. “You’re making this up.”
Both Roman and Atlas laughed. “I’m really not. Ebony, darling, congratulations. You deserve every moment of this. And, should you win, you’ll be Quartet’s second major Grammy winner. This is happening.”
“God.” Ebony put her face in her hands, overwhelmed. “This is just unbelievable.”
“No, it isn’t,” Roman said cheerfully, “we all knew this was a special record. You let go on it and showed pure, unadulterated passion. By the way, I’ll get in trouble if I don’t pass on Kym’s congratulations. She says she’s just glad her band didn’t release an album this year.”
Ebony laughed. “Ha, lucky for me, rather. Thanks, Roman. I just need to absorb it, is all.”
“Okay, honey, well, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of your vacation. Come in to see me once you get back to Seattle.”
“I promise. Bye, Roman.”
After she ended the call, Ebony and Atlas stared at each other for a long moment, then erupted in a cacophony of cheering and whooping, hugging each other, rolling around on the floor like excited kids. Afterward they called Fino and Matty in the states and told them. Matty just gurgled happily down the phone, but Fino, who knew well what the Grammys meant, was excited and delighted. “Can I come? Can I come to the ceremony?”
“We’ll see, champ,” Atlas told his son, and laughed when he heard Fino’s disgruntled sigh.
The rest of the vacation was a blur and as they left India for Seattle, Ebony sat back in her seat and smiled at her husband. “This has been the perfect break,” she kissed him softly, “thank you. I’d love to bring the kids here one day. Perhaps not to a palace; we’re not the Kardashians.” She laughed as Atlas pulled a face.
“We could bring all three of our kids … or four … or five …” He grinned as Ebony rolled her eyes, smiling.
“Slow your roll there, cowboy. Let’s start with the third and see where we go.”
Atlas brushed his lips against hers. “I love you, Grammy nominee Ebony Verlaine.”
“As I love you, Grammy-nominee seducer, Atlas Tigri.”
February …
Ebony remembered that conversation now as she stood at the side of the stage at Madison Square Garden, waiting to go on to perform Angelheart. Swallowing down her nerves, which were made worse by the fact that she was opening the show, she took a deep breath in. The past three months had been a whirl of press, interviews, television performances and gigs, all orchestrated by Quartet to maximize her visibility and help her Grammy campaign.
Ebony had found it hard to go full-on with the self-promotion, but Atlas had told her, “All you have to do is show you believe in your work, show all that passion that went into making the record, and you’ll be fine.”
So, every time she went on a talk show, or did breakfast television, or talked to a hundred different journalists, not just from the music press, she tried to remember that and it got her through. This month, she was even schedule to do a photo shoot for Cosmopolitan.
“Me? A photoshoot?”
Emily Moore, her publicist, had rolled her eyes and grinned. “Ebony, you’re stunning, and you have a unique look. Of course, the fashion magazines will want you.”
Even now, as she was being announced, Ebony still felt like the newbie, even if she was wearing a skintight silver Versace dress and sky-high heels. Just don’t fall over, she told herself, then felt her adrenaline spike as her introductory music began and she was waved out onto the stage.
Ebony couldn’t remember much of the ceremony when she thought about it later. Her performance was greeted with wild and rapturous applause and when, forty-five minutes later, Angelheart was announced at the winner of the Best Jazz Vocal Album, she felt as if she were floating outside of her body. She was a freaking Grammy winner! How the hell did that happen? Atlas was beside himself with joy, picking her up and twirling her around before she made her way to the stage. Accepting her award, she thanked everybody who had been involved in making Angelheart happen—and then thanked Atlas and her children, a few tears escaping as she did.
Roman had told her that rarely did jazz albums or songs win the big awards, Album, Song, or Record of the Year, and so it proved with Album and Song which went to a pop act and a rap artist respectively. Ebony didn’t care; the nominations were enough, and now she could enjoy the ceremony without nerves. She and Atlas snuck to the dressing rooms mid-ceremony and made love, giggling like teenagers afterward as they made their way back to their seats in the auditorium.
Suddenly it seemed as if the noise of the place increased tenfold and every eye in the place turned on her. Beside her, Atlas and her friends were on their feet, roaring their approval. Ebony blinked and looked at Atlas in confusion. “What?”
His gorgeous face split with the widest smile, he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “You won, baby, you won! Record of the Year.”
Ebony felt all the blood drain from her face. “No way.” But then she looked around and saw the entire place applauding at her and knew it was true. She had won the biggest award of the night.
“Did I actual sound coherent?” she asked Atlas in the cab back to their hotel, clutching her two gold Grammy awards.
Atlas laughed. “As coherent as I would sound in that situation. Baby, I cannot tell you how proud I am, and how much I love you. You made it, baby. You fucking slayed tonight.”
Ebony giggled and kissed him. “Nothing without you, baby.” She gazed at him. “I won everything I needed when I met you. But,” she continued with a grin, hefting the awards in her hands, “these are pretty sweet too. And Fino and Matty can have one each in their rooms.”
“They’ll love it.” Atlas pressed his mouth against hers then nuzzled her ear. “And when we get back to the hotel, baby, I’m going to give you something else heavy and hard.”
Ebony burst out laughing and Atlas grinned. “You think I’m joking?”
“Oh, no, I’m just going to hold you to that … all night long.”
Ebony closed her eyes and shivered with pleasure. Atlas’s huge, diamond-hard cock was buried deep in her cunt and his mouth was on her nipple, sucking and teasing it until it was unbearably sensitive. His hand stroked her clit and soon Ebony was gasping and coming hard as Atlas dominated her body. She felt his cock exploded inside her, filling her with his sweet, creamy cum. “Oh, how I love you, Atlas Tigri,” she sighed as they caught their breath. “So, so much.”
Atlas stroked her face. “As I love you.”
“Maybe we should make another baby right now,” Ebony said, her emotions in turmoil, a delirium of happiness.
Atlas smiled and kissed her. “How about we leave it to chance? I hate regimented things.”
Ebony nodded. “Okay, I’ll come off birth control and we’ll roll the dice; what do you say?”
“I say, let’s do it.”
A few days later, however, Ebony discovered that her burgeoning career was about to make being spontaneous a problem. At Quartet’s offices, she met with Roman Ford and his business partner Dash Hamilton to talk about how to make the most of her Grammy win.
“We’ve already seen a three-hundred percent spike in sales,” Dash grinned at her, “but what we want is longevity. Your genre has typically been based on album sales rather than singles, and if we play this right, Angelheart will still be selling thirty years from now. You have a once-in-a-lifetime talent, Ebony.”
Ebony knew she shouldn’t feel overwhelmed, but she still did. “So, what do we do next?”
Roman smiled. “Well, sadly, it will mean promotion, which means more interviews, performances … and a tour. Here’s the thing, Ebony. To really make the most of this situation, we’re thinking a world tour. Which means time away from your family … a lot of time.”
Ebony was dismayed. “We can’t do it in stages?”
“We could, and certainly there’s scope for breaks between each country—to a certain extent. We are a business, after all, and we have to keep costs as low as we can to maximize profit. Which means, in effect, that when you go to Europe, you’ll do two gigs in each capital where the biggest markets are, then move onto the next country. It’ll be intense and exhausting … but vital.”
And there goes our plans for a baby, at least for a year or so. Ebony was surprised how much that upset her but she didn’t feel she could say anything to Roman or Dash.
Atlas listened to what she had to say as they made dinner later that night. Ebony stirred the marinara sauce for the pasta, unable to look Atlas in the eye as she told him they would have to postpone their plans to have another baby for a year or so.
Atlas was quiet over dinner, but Fino and Matty kept up a steady conversation. They were both still enamored of their Grammy awards, sitting proudly on a bookshelf in each of their bedrooms. Ebony glanced over at Atlas, who was chewing his food, his eyes locked in the middle distance.
She was serving the children some fruit salad when he finally spoke. “Kids … you know Momma is a superstar now? Well, she has to go away for a while and we may not see her much for the next year while she goes to sing around the world.”
Matty looked wide-eyed. “A year?”
Ebony nodded, feeling wretched. Was there a hint of rancor in Atlas’ words or was he merely being practical? Fino nodded sagely. “I knew you would have to go on tour, Ma. Can we come to some of the concerts?”
“Of course, Fino, baby … but it might mean you won’t see me for a long time. We can’t interrupt our schooling, of course. Look,” Ebony sighed. “I won’t deny I hate the idea of being away from you all for so long. I hate it. But it is my job, and I owe it to Quartet. They have been so good to me.”
Atlas reached over and took her hand. “I hate it too, but, yes. I think you have to do it.”
Later, in bed, Ebony snuggled up to him. “You can say what you really feel now, baby. It’s going to mean we put off having our baby.”
Atlas nodded. “And I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed, Ebony, and there’s a part of me that wants to ask you to stay so badly, I could scream. But we’re adults.”
Ebony kissed his neck and stroked her hand down his body. “Show me how adult we are, baby.”
Atlas smiled at her. “Actually, I’m kind of bushed.”
The rejection stung a little but Ebony nodded. “Okay.”
There was an awkward pause before Atlas tipped her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I really am tired, baby; I’m not being ornery. I think I might have flu or something.”
He pressed his lips against hers. “Hey, if I give you the flu, then you’ll have to stay home.” He grinned to show he was kidding and Ebony laughed.
“Would I get a note from my mom?”
“We could fake it.”
Ebony giggled. “Silly man. I love you so much.”
“And I, you, funny face. Listen, this tour … we both know you have to do it. We can work it all out—I’ll bring the kids out whenever I can … and also arrange for us to have alone time as well. We can make this work.”
“And then after the tour … a baby.” Ebony said determinedly. “Our baby. I want it so badly, baby.”
“Me too, honey. We have all the time in the world.”
A month later, and Ebony stared out of the doctor’s office, not believing what he was telling her and Atlas. Atlas didn’t have the flu. He had cancer.
“The good news, if I can call it that, is we caught it early. We can operate to remove the rumor and if we get good margins, I don’t even think you’ll need chemo.”
Atlas, as matter of fact as ever, nodded. “We need to get the surgery done before Ebony leaves for her tour, if that’s possible, doc.”
Ebony gaped at him. “Baby, there’s no way I’m going on tour now. You need me.”
“And I’ll have you when I need you, but you’re not canceling. Not for this. It’s a blip, Ebony, is all.”
“Cancer is not a blip!” Ebony, her nerves frayed and edgy, didn’t mean to snap at her husband, especially not in front of the oncologist, but she was terrified. Her breath caught in her throat, and her voice broke. “This cannot be happening. Not you, Atlas, not you.” Her tears began to fall and Atlas pulled her into his arms. The oncologist stood.
“I
’ll give you some privacy. Let me just say, Mrs. Tigri … we caught it early. That’s a huge advantage.”
He nodded to Atlas who smiled at him. “Thanks, doc.”
Alone, Ebony let her terror out and sobbed. “I can’t bear it, baby. Not you.”
Atlas let her cry herself before he wiped her eyes. “Darling Ebony, my love, it’s going to be okay. You saw the x-rays; it’s a tiny tumor. The doc will cut it out and, boom, I’m back in business. No biggie.”
Ebony leaned against him. “I’m staying with you.”
“Nope.” He smiled at her, his expression soft. “This is the oncology equivalent of having root canal is all. Done and done.”
Ebony was finally persuaded not to cancel the tour but, on the day of Atlas’s surgery, she sat in the relatives’ room, her arms tight around her body, worried sick. Juno and Obe were babysitting the kids, and Romy Allende was sitting with her. Romy’s husband, Blue, was assisting the surgeon, using his privilege as Chief of Surgery to oversee his friend’s case.
Romy hugged Ebony. “Blue says it’ll be a breeze,” she tried to reassure the terrified woman, but Ebony would not be comforted.
“If I lose him …” She trailed off. Romy, who had been through two horrific attacks and had nearly died, smoothed Ebony’s hair back from her face.
“I know, sweetheart, but he really is going to be okay. Blue told me there’s no sign of it spreading and even if they have to take out one of his lungs—he still has another.”
Ebony sighed. “He’s never even smoked … apart from a joint back in college.”
“Which is probably why it’s only a small tumor. Come on now, let’s talk about something else. Your tour.”
Ebony groaned. “God … if you knew how little I wanted to do this tour …”
“I do, but Atlas told me it’s important and I agree. Ebony, you pressed pause for a while on your ambitions for yourself because of Fino and Matty and everything that went on. This is your reward, don’t forget that. A career, something for you, outside of Atlas, and your life here. You are on the cusp of literally having it all. The Sisterhood says—don’t you dare waste it.”
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