by Meghan March
Harriet, who I’d finally met when she’d returned from a landscape painting adventure in France—her words, not mine—bustled over, interrupting our conversation. “Lucas, my dear, please make sure you get a good full-length picture. I want to do an abstract painting of you and Yve so she can hang it in Dirty Dog. I think it’d be one more touch to make it truly hers.”
When Yve had told me about the contract Colson showed her, I’d been livid. I knew he’d been on some misguided mission to protect me, but he’d almost cost me everything. I hadn’t fired him, though. No, he was now leading a humanitarian project in Botswana for Titan Industries. A few years of going without might knock him back into shape.
And Yve had engineered her own solution to buy Dirty Dog when she’d met with Harriet. She’d refused to take a grant from the NOLA Entrepreneur Fund because she didn’t think they could be objective now that our involvement was public knowledge. Instead, she’d worked out a deal with Harriet where Harriet financed the sale herself, and Yve paid her monthly out of the profits.
Knowing my woman, she’d try to find some way to work even harder to increase those profits and pay it off a few years early. More than anything, I wanted to pay off the loan as a wedding present, but I knew that this was important to Yve, proving that she could do this on her own. As much as it went against my nature not to interfere, I was standing back. Yve was a hell of a businesswoman, and she knew I had her back. Always.
The last loose end I could do nothing to wrap up was Haines’s fiancée, Jennifer. She’d been judged to be mentally incompetent to stand trial, and had been committed to a facility for treatment. Jay hadn’t been the first inmate she’d fixated on, and her family had been trying to track her down for months. They’d also been cooperative in my request to keep us updated if she was ever released.
Yve’s safety was something I would never take for granted, so it made me feel a hell of a lot better that Levi had returned to work at Dirty Dog with Yve and JP. She didn’t consider him her babysitter, and she didn’t bitch at me too much for being an unbendable beast.
I looked down at my watch again. She was late. By two minutes.
“You thinking she’s not going to show,” Lord asked, joining us. He grabbed the drink from my hand and replaced it with another. “Straight whiskey. You’re going to need it if you get stood up at the altar.”
“Thanks,” I drawled.
“Did you leave her a note or something?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What’d it say?” Con asked.
“Wear the blue dress. Brennan’s at eight,” Levi offered. “I read it.”
I made a mental note that I needed to take his house key and find him a new place to live. ASAP.
Deep, rumbling laughter boomed through the courtyard as Con and Lord both lost their collective shit. “You’re so fucked, man. She’s gonna kill you—if she shows.”
The maître d’ pushed open the door to the courtyard and everyone went silent. Holding their collective breath, no doubt.
Yve stepped through the arched doorway, wearing what she referred to as the Cinderella dress. A smile curved her lips when she spotted me. I’d never take that smile for granted—ever.
When I’d asked her why she’d never worn the Cinderella dress before when it was clearly a favorite of hers, she’d told me she was waiting for a special occasion. I hoped that her wedding would count.
“We’ll leave you to it. I can’t wait to see how you spin this one.” Lord, Con, and Levi each clapped me on the back, then joined the crowd on the far side of the room.
It was great to know they’d come just for the entertainment value of this moment, but all I cared about was Yve.
She walked toward me, the crystals on the dress catching the light of the chandeliers hanging from the trees in the courtyard. She looked like a goddamn fairy-tale princess come to life. Her skin contrasted beautifully with the shimmering blue of her dress, and her white heels seemed made for a wedding.
Yve’s brow furrowed when she saw the gathering of people. I should have told them to all get the hell out, but I hadn’t.
“What’s going on?” she asked when she reached me. “Are we having a party that no one told me about?”
“Something like that.”
“Lucas . . . what did you do?”
I smiled. She was right to be suspicious. I reached into my pocket, pulled out the diamond solitaire, and lifted her hand in mine and slid it on.
Her eyes widened. “Are you proposing?”
I shook my head. “We’re getting married. Tonight. Here.”
“What?”
“We’re getting married,” I repeated. “In front of your friends and family.”
Yve’s gaze flicked over my shoulder, and I could tell the instant she spotted her mother. “You invited my mother? And she said yes? Does she know what’s happening?”
I smiled, because in that moment, I knew Yve wouldn’t be saying no. “She gave me her blessing. She’s got your something borrowed.”
Yve’s golden eyes snapped back to mine. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “I’m sure that my life wouldn’t be the same without you, and I’m damned sure that I love you and you love me. I’m sure that we’re better together than we are apart, and that you give me a reason to smile every day. I need you. I need this. Marry me, Yve.”
She lifted her hand to her mouth, the one with the rock flashing in the light, and nodded. “I should give you hell for pulling this, but all I want to say is yes.”
I took her hand and pulled it away from her face and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Then let’s do this.”
As we made our way to the gathered couples in the courtyard, Yve’s mother met us in the middle and pressed a folded embroidered handkerchief into her hand. “Your something borrowed.”
Yve hugged her mother, and while their relationship had been rocky ever since Jay Haines’s death, at least they were beginning to have one. Years of silence on both their parts had created a large divide to be crossed. But slowly, it was happening.
“I’m proud of you, Yvonne,” her mother said, and Yve pressed the handkerchief to her eyes to dab away the forming tears.
“Thank you, Mama.”
“So, are we having a wedding tonight?” the officiant asked as he came to stand before us.
I looked at Yve.
She’d blinked back the tears, and a smile graced her face as she nodded. “Yes, sir. I believe we are.”
We locked hands and stood before him.
“Wait, your something new,” Elle interrupted, hurrying toward us. She held out a silver chain with a charm.
Yve took it from her. It was a glass slipper. She looked at her former employee and tears welled again. She pulled Elle in for a hug.
“When he said you were wearing the Cinderella dress, I couldn’t resist. Love you, babe.”
“Love you too.”
Elle stepped back, and I clasped the necklace around Yve’s neck.
“Are we ready?” the officiant asked.
Yve threaded her fingers through mine and squeezed. “Yes, sir, we are,” she said, staring into my eyes. “Ready for forever.”
And we were—ready for a forever where our scars didn’t define us, but reminded us of how far we’d come and what we’d conquered to be together.
THE END
You know you don’t want to miss what’s coming next! Click here to sign up for my newsletter, and never miss another announcement about upcoming projects, new releases, sales, and exclusive excerpts and giveaways.
I’d love to hear what you thought about Lucas and Yve’s story. If you have a few moments to leave a review, I’d be incredibly grateful. Send me a link at [email protected], and I’ll thank you with a personal note.
Also by Meghan March
Beneath Series
Beneath This Mask
Beneath This Ink
Beneath These Chains
Flash Bang Series
Flash Bang
Hard Charger
Website: www.meghanmarch.com
Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in the woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut.
Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty-talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.
She loves hearing from her readers at [email protected].