The Greatest Risk

by Kristen Ashley

  “No one need know that. No one need know you did them at all. You can publish under a pen name.”

  “I—”

  “They’re beautiful. Your talent is unquestionable. They’re provocative. They’re erotic. They’re emotional. You can’t help but root for Sixx. And now, as the story turns, root for her and her shadowy lover as she turns from life as a heroic antihero with a chilling, tragic, jaded past to an unadulterated hero with a future filled with hope.”

  “Stellan—” she whispered.

  “Think about it, darling. I know people who publish erotica. They do very limited graphic novels, but I feel they’d jump at a chance at this.”

  “Someone might know it’s you,” she told him.

  “I don’t care,” he replied. “But I can’t imagine they would. You cloak my face.”

  “I don’t cloak mine.”

  “Regardless.”

  “I want you protected.”

  Of course she did.

  She was Simone.

  But she’d always be Sixx.

  “That’s hardly necessary,” he said quietly. “Especially not now, no one’s seen these but me. Though that’s a shame, considering how remarkable they are. But just to say, if anyone were to guess it was me, I would far from care. And not simply because you’ve cast me as gallant redeemer to your hero. A savior. All-powerful. That’s hardly unflattering.”

  She looked to the pad, mumbling, “I’ll think about it.”

  He used his other arm, which was around her, to give her a squeeze, regaining her attention.

  “I hope you truly do.”

  Her head quirked to the side, and an expression he could not read filtered over her pretty face.

  As was becoming her way, Simone did not make him wait or even ask after it.

  She gave it to him.

  Freely.

  “You know, I never thought I’d show these to anybody. Now I’m right here with you while you read them, and I’m honestly considering the idea of sharing them further.”

  “Does all that worry you?”

  “No, I think it’s … I think it’s…” She pressed closer and suddenly smiled. “I think it’s proof you are all-powerful.”

  Relaxing into her mood, Stellan chuckled.

  “Thank you, baby,” she whispered.

  “My pleasure,” he replied. “Even though I don’t know why you’re expressing gratitude. You giving me the honor of sharing this with me,” he lifted the sketchpad to indicate what he was talking about, “deserves the gratitude.”

  “And that,” she lifted a finger and put it to his lips, “the fact you’d say something like that, the fact you’re that man, is why I’m thanking you.”

  It was clearly time to move the evening onward.

  Therefore, with care, Stellan reached out and set the sketchpad on his coffee table.

  After he did that, he turned into his Simone.

  And after enjoying something extraordinary that was all Simone, he enjoyed something tremendously extraordinary that was all Simone.

  Simone.

  SIXX

  Sixx got into her Cayenne, looked at the dash, and froze.

  On it was propped a female action figurine wearing a fake leather bodysuit, little plastic high-heeled boots, a tiny mask over its eyes, short brown hair on its head, a miniature whip in its hand.

  In front of it sat a folded-over note with Sixx written on it.

  Carefully, she reached out, took hold of the note and unfolded it.

  It read:

  Sixx–

  Debt paid.

  Not going to miss worrying about your crazy ass.

  But I’m going to miss you.

  –Your Favorite Asshole

  Carlo.

  She looked up and around the parking lot, seeing random people, not seeing Carlo.

  As she wouldn’t.

  But he’d been watching her. He was likely watching her right now.

  Thus he knew more than from the fact he hadn’t heard from her (undoubtedly looking into it because of that fact) that she was out of commission.

  He’d also figured out why.

  And he was happy for her.

  She grinned at the action figure as she took hold of it.

  It was the second doll she’d ever owned.

  This one was kickass.

  So this one she would keep.

  But that wasn’t the only reason why.

  She bent the doll’s legs to sit her on the seat beside Sixx and pulled out her phone.

  Next time you’re in town, come to dinner and meet my man, she texted Carlo.

  She was not surprised when she got no reply.

  She did not yearn for any part of her old life.

  But seriously …

  He could be a pain in the ass.

  But she was going to miss that guy.

  SIMONE

  Simone was sitting next to Stellan at the island, having her breakfast and listening to M prattle when Stellan’s phone rang.

  She looked to him to see him staring at it sitting beside his plate, but her eyes immediately darted to the phone when she saw his brows had drawn together ominously.

  She just caught that the screen said HARRY CALLING before he snatched it up and put it to his ear.

  “Hello, Harry, how—?” he started, stopped, and shoved back his stool so violently in order to burst out of it, Simone grew still before she jumped off her own stool, her gaze shooting to M who was staring at Stellan, her face now pale.

  “Of course,” Stellan said on the move. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Simone chased after him.

  M chased after Simone.

  “Yes, right. Yes. I promise, Harry, I’ll be there shortly,” Stellan told him, and Simone practically had to run to keep up with his long, agitated strides.

  He’d clearly disconnected because he took the phone from his ear.

  Before she could ask, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at her, but did it still moving.

  “Susan’s gone into labor. Harry needs someone to look after Crosby,” he shared tersely.

  Oh no.

  “She’s not due—” Simone started.

  “For six more weeks,” Stellan clipped out, yanking open the door to the garage with such force, it was a wonder he didn’t pull it off its hinges.

  “I’m coming with you,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he bit off.

  She kept hustling after him as she turned back to M.

  “We’ll be in touch,” she said.

  M stood in the door she was holding open and nodded.

  Stellan practically threw himself in his Tesla.

  Simone followed suit.

  She let him concentrate as he pulled out and only spoke when they were on the road.

  Putting her hand on his thigh, she gave it a squeeze as she said softly, “It’s going to be okay.”

  Stellan made no reply.

  He just drove.

  STELLAN

  Stellan looked to Simone, who was standing in the waiting room with Crosby on her hip and was swinging him around, chattering to him, and he was chattering back like they were carrying on a weighty conversation when they were enumerating his favorite stuffed animals.

  Stellan’s chest felt like it was filled with quickly drying concrete.

  It was the second time in his life when he consciously had to remind himself to breathe.

  The first was when he’d opened the door to his own car in his father’s garage and realized his sister was dead.

  Harry had been sent out of the delivery room due to the fact they’d had to perform surgery. An emergency C-section, for some reason that had been explained, but Stellan was not in the state to grasp, both mother and child were in distress.

  However, half an hour ago, Harry had been called to his wife.

  They gave no further news, no staff had returned to share any, and they’d not seen Harry since.

&
nbsp; Stellan sat still in his chair, which he thought was a miracle considering he was coming out of his skin.

  “Who’s that?” he heard Simone ask, and he focused on her, saw her head bent toward Crosby still at her hip, but she was pointing at Stellan.

  “Steyan!” Crosby yelled.

  She pointed to herself. “Who’s this?”

  “Shimone!”

  “That’s me.” She smiled at him and held him closer, swinging him around. “Shimone.”

  “Daddy!” Crosby cried.

  Simone whipped around, and Stellan’s head jerked toward the door as he straightened from his seat.

  Harry walked in looking haggard, but not destroyed, and Stellan started breathing slightly easier.

  He was with a nurse, but she stopped at the door to the waiting room as Harry strode right up to Simone and gently took his son from her arms.

  He pulled him tight to his chest, murmuring, “Hey, son, hey, boy.” He drew in a ragged breath. “You’ve got a baby sister.”

  Stellan closed his eyes.

  “Shishter!” Crosby shouted.

  Stellan opened his eyes and watched Harry’s come to him.

  “She wants you, brother.”

  Stellan glanced at Simone, fell more deeply in love with her at the soft relief shining from her beautiful face as she kept her gaze on him, but he did this walking directly to the nurse.

  “Just follow me,” she said.

  He did, and he felt she moved far too slowly.

  He was taken to the door of a room that, when she stopped at it, and before she could say a word, he pushed straight through.

  The nurse did not follow, and she vanished from his mind as he saw a wan Susan lying propped in a hospital bed with a very tiny bundle cuddled to her chest.

  Stellan stopped dead at the door, hearing it close behind him, but with the crush of emotion he had not allowed himself to feel landing on him now that he saw them both alive and well, he was unable to move.

  Susie’s eyes lifted right to him.

  “She’s fine,” she said, sounding how she looked—exhausted. “She’s breathing on her own and nursing on her own, which is a relief. They say she’ll sleep a lot, and we’ll have to help her keep warm. But other than that, she’s good. I’m good. We’re all good, Stell.”

  Stellan still didn’t move.

  Susie kept her gaze locked to him.

  “We’ve named her Silie, honey,” she whispered.

  It was at that he remained unmoving for an entirely different reason.

  Also at that he allowed one.

  Just one.

  One tear to fall from his eye.

  Then he pulled himself out of his inertia, walked direct to her, bent in, and kissed his girl on the forehead. He moved and kissed his new girl on her diminutive but mercifully chubby cheek.

  “Hello, Silie,” he said quietly.

  He heard Susie’s soft sob and lifted his head to look at her.

  “Sh, no,” he murmured. “None of that.”

  “I really love you, boss man,” she said hoarsely.

  He looked into her beloved eyes. “And I thank God every day you do.”

  She swallowed and pulled her bundle closer.

  The door opened, and Stellan straightened away to watch Harry walk in.

  “Crosby?” Susan asked.

  “He’s with Sixx. He’s good. Excited about his sister,” Harry answered, walking to Susan’s other side.

  He sat on the bed, put a hand to the rump of his daughter and bent close to kiss the lips of his wife.

  “We’ll bring him in when it’s time, then we’ll take him home with us and bring him back when it’s time,” Stellan offered.

  “His things—” Susan started.

  “It’s my understanding Simone is adept at breaking and entering, sweetheart. We’ll be fine,” he assured.

  “What?” Harry asked, confused.

  It was only then Stellan found true relief.

  Because Susan started laughing.

  * * *

  Hours later, Stellan rounded the chesterfield.

  And he stopped dead for the second time that day at what he saw.

  Simone, flat on her back, Crosby flat out on her chest … and just out.

  This was not a surprise.

  What was a surprise was that Simone was not also sleeping the sleep of the dead. Woman and boy had been on the go with toys, pool play, the kind of hide-and-seek you could enjoy with a twenty-two-month-old, which happened to be exceptionally loud, and the very messy results of cookie baking from a tub when a toddler was the one forming the batter.

  She was always lovely.

  Right then she was exquisite.

  “Four,” she said.

  His gaze went from the child on her chest to her eyes.

  “Pardon?” he asked.

  “Not two. Four. Or at least three.”

  Staring at her, before Stellan could open a throat that had suddenly closed, M bustled around the couch, tsking, “He should have been in bed an hour ago.”

  She reached out to Crosby, carefully taking him from Simone as she explained, “He got a baby sister today. We had to celebrate.”

  M shook her head in silent reprimand, but when her back was to Simone and her gaze came to Stellan, her eyes were dancing.

  And bright.

  She winked at him.

  Then she walked with Crosby to the stairs.

  Simone sat up and reached out to the baby monitor on the coffee table, muttering, “Considering the fact we’ve set up his bedroom in the same house, but still it’s in practically another state, probably should figure out how to turn this on.”

  “Darling?” he called.

  She looked up at him. “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  Her face got soft. “I love you too.”

  “Warning,” he whispered. “If you keep it up this way, you’re going to get sick of hearing me say that.”

  The beauty of the look those words wrought was indescribable.

  “Never,” she replied.

  SIMONE

  The bed moved when Stellan joined her in it, rousing her from sleep.

  Even if that hadn’t happened, he would have roused her considering he claimed her, doing this turning her, pulling her to him, and arranging her mostly on top of his body.

  “How was it?” she mumbled sleepily.

  “Interesting,” he replied.

  This caught her attention and cleared some drowsy, forcing her head off his shoulder to peer at his shadowed face in the dark.

  “How was it interesting?” she asked.

  “Barclay, plus Aryas, co-hosting a bachelor party, darling, how do you think it was interesting?” he asked back.

  “Were there strippers?” she continued the interrogation.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Was there flesh?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The drowsy disappeared, and her hand began to move to find out for herself even as she queried, “Are you turned on?”

  “Not … exactly.”

  Her hand stopped on his tight abs.

  “What does that mean?” she inquired.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had ‘buds,’” he stated. “But I do think one of the cardinal rules to having them is that what happens at a bachelor party stays at the bachelor party.”

  Unable to stop it, she dropped her head to his chest, and Simone burst out laughing.

  Olly and Leigh were getting married the next weekend.

  And that night, Stellan had attended Olly’s bachelor party.

  Actually, he’d been invited to both of them. The first one was given by Olly’s best buddy from the firehouse, some guy named Chad.

  This one, though, only a certain variety of Olly’s brothers were invited to attend.

  Since she’d known Olly, he and Stellan had always shared an affinity. But apparently, when Stellan became involved at the situation at the Bolt, he’d been adopted
by the bro crew that included Olly, Barclay and Branch, and they had recruited Aryas along with Stellan.

  It wasn’t often, but it wasn’t rare, that they met for drinks.

  Stellan met with them acting like it was somehow under duress.

  But Stellan didn’t do anything under duress.

  He liked them.

  He’d even asked Maddox and Diesel to join them.

  And they had.

  When she stopped chortling, she lifted her head and asked, “Was it sordid?”

  “Do you think Aryas would do anything sordid?”

  She kept grinning at him through the dark. “Why are you answering my questions with questions?”

  “Because I’m trying to communicate to you none of your questions are going to get answered.”

  That made her burst out laughing too.

  “Branch proposed to Leenie last night,” he announced.

  Simone went still.

  “She, obviously, accepted,” he carried on.

  “Holy God,” she breathed.

  “In his style, he’s warned they’ll be having a very low-key ceremony with limited invitations being sent.”

  “Do you think we’ll be invited?”

  “As far as I know, Branch holds regard for five people. Olly. Barclay. Cam. Aryas. And me. So unless by ‘limited’ he meant only him and Leenie will be in attendance, I’d wager … yes.”

  “Cool,” she mumbled.

  He turned to her so that he was now on her.

  “If you’re awake…” he murmured.

  “Did Olly have a good time?” she whispered.

  “The man is much loved, that was proved without doubt tonight, so yes, darling, he did,” he whispered back.

  That was the only question that she needed answered.

  She communicated that by sliding her fingers in his hair.

  And her Stellan, as ever, missed nothing.

  Certainly not that.

  * * *

  “Stellan.”

  “Simone.”

  “Stellan.”

  “Come, Simone.”

  She came.

  Wrapped around him, the spiked heels of her Zanotti sandals digging into his ass, her head shot back, and she shuddered as her pussy clutched him through her release.

  His hips moved, stroking inside her, caressing her the only way he could through it and as she came down.

  When she was done, she kept her arms locked firm around his shoulders but adjusted her legs so her heels were no longer digging into his flesh.

  “You didn’t come,” she whispered.