by Pamela Clare
Howls of laughter.
McManus didn’t look happy with that idea. “You think a lass can do the work we men do?”
Shields plucked the olive from her drink. “Shanti did—apart from the shooting.”
“Och, well…”
“What’s wrong, McManus? Cat got your sexist tongue?” Elizabeth walked off, a teasing smile on her face, henna on her hands and wrists, too.
The women had held a henna party this morning, while Connor, with the help of his dad, Devesh, Ryan, Taj, and the Cobra guys, had set up the party tent and the four-pillared frame for the canopy that would cover the wedding platform.
“I hear you got into Columbia University,” Tower said. “Congrats.”
“Isn’t that an Ivy League school or some shit?” Corbray asked.
“Can we not talk about that tonight? I’ve got other things on my mind.”
“You nervous or something?” Tower asked.
“Hell, no. Marrying Shanti is the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”
She and Connor had lived together now for eight months, first in The Hague and then in their new place on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, near the United Nations Plaza where she worked. His life with her was good, better than he’d imagined life could be. He had no doubts, no second thoughts, no regrets. But he wanted the ceremony to go well. He wanted this to be special for Shanti and their families.
He had worried that his parents might not approve of a secular ceremony with Hindu elements, but they had taken it in stride. His father and Devesh had hit it off from the start, talking about the economics of farming and acting like old friends. His mother and Shanti’s mother, Susan, got along well, too, despite having little in common beyond an unrelenting desire for grandchildren.
Which reminded Connor…
“Hey, Tower, when is that baby due? Aren’t you the one who should be nervous?”
Tower’s wife, Jenna, was very pregnant. She sat with Shields and Holly, the three of them smiling and laughing together.
“She’s due in the middle of August—and, yeah, I am nervous.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around that—you a father.” Corbray shook his head, chuckling. “How times have changed.”
That was the truth, and Connor couldn’t be more grateful.
But he’d had enough of this.
“If you boys will excuse me, I want to spend some time with my bride.”
Shanti slow-danced with Connor, a bit tipsy from champagne and more than a little turned-on. “I wish we could sneak away from the party. I want you naked. I miss you. It’s been five long days.”
“Only five? It feels like a month.” He kissed her—and inspiration struck him. “Hey, I could get us a room here in the hotel. We could be quick, discreet.”
Warmth rushed to her belly. “You want to pay for a room for the night just to get it on for fifteen minutes? Brilliant. Let’s do it.”
“I’ll go first. I’ll text you when I’ve got the keycard. You slip away and join me at the elevator.”
Shanti watched him leave, wetness gathering between her thighs, the muscular mounds of his ass looking incredible in his dress pants, his shoulders broad. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him—all of him.
Taj walked up to her, a drink in his hands. “Where’s Connor going?”
“Oh, I, uh, don’t know. The restroom?”
“There are restrooms over there.” Taj pointed with a nod of his head.
“Maybe he has to make a phone call. The music is pretty loud.”
Taj seemed to buy that. “When I heard you’d gotten together with a guy who’d been a soldier, I didn’t like it. I knew he’d saved your life, but I couldn’t see you with a man like that. He’s nothing like I imagined. I think he’s perfect for you.”
“Thanks, Taj. I’m so glad you feel that way. He makes me very happy.” As much as she appreciated what Taj had said, she hoped her brother would walk away. If he saw her head in the same direction as Connor, he’d put two and two together.
Not that it mattered. The whole not-sleeping-together thing was for the benefit of Connor’s family, not hers.
But Taj kept talking. “I think he’s cool.”
Shanti stood on tiptoe, kissed her brother’s cheek. “He likes you, too. I’m going to see if there’s any cake left.”
She walked away from her brother—and her cell phone buzzed. She left the ballroom by a side door and hurried down the main hallway toward the reception area.
Connor stood near an elevator. “I can’t wait to get you alone.”
Shanti fought to keep her hands off him in the elevator, knowing there were security cameras, secrecy adding to her arousal.
When the door to the room closed, he dragged her against him, kissed her hard, backed her across the small space to the bed. “I want to be inside you.”
“God, yes.” It couldn’t happen fast enough.
He’d had lots of practice with saris now and knew where she hid the safety pins, removing them quickly before pulling the silk from the waistband of her petticoat, spinning her in a circle, and dropping the sari onto the floor.
While he freed his cock, she took off her panties, got onto the bed on her hands and knees, and tugged her petticoat up to her waist, baring herself to him completely. “Now!”
He grasped her hips with one hand and teased her clit with the fingers of the other, his cock nudging against her entrance. “You are so fucking hot.”
He knew her body well, knew just how to make her come fast, how to make her plead, how to make her scream. What he was doing felt so good, and it just kept getting better, pleasure building inside her, clever fingers the source of her bliss.
In this position, all she could do was take it.
He nudged her knees wider apart, entered her with a slow, deep thrust, moaning as their bodies came together. “God, Shanti.”
And then he was moving, thrusting deep and hard, his fingers still busy with her clit. It felt good, so good… the ache sweet… carrying her higher… tension drawing tight inside her.
She shattered, coming with a cry, ecstasy carrying her away. When her climax had passed, he took hold of both of her hips and drove into her hard, groaning as he came inside her. They collapsed on the bed, laughing.
Connor settled onto his back, his pants still down, and drew her into his arms. “I don’t know about you, but I feel a hell of a lot better.”
“Oh, yeah. So much better.”
“My baby girl—a bride.” Shanti’s mother kissed her cheek. “Look at you.”
Shanti had decided to wear a sari of white lace and silk, one that combined the traditions of both of her countries. The pallu—the part that would drape over her shoulder—was translucent with white lace flowers. Her blouse, which stopped just below her ribs, had little cap sleeves of matching white lace.
“Do you think Connor will like it?”
“Oh, honey, he is going to go out of his mind when he sees you. That man loves you more than life itself. I get choked up even thinking about it.”
Shanti reached for her veil—an elbow-length veil of silk tulle with lace flowers across the bottom. She would pin it just above the beautiful bun her mother’s stylist had made for her.
“Hold off on that for a minute.” Her mother took the veil, set it back. “I think your father wants to speak with you.”
A knock.
Her father stepped inside, his gaze moving over her. “My sweet girl. Don’t you look beautiful? I wish your grandparents had lived to see this.”
Shanti wished that, too. “Don’t make me cry, Daddy. It will wreck my makeup.”
He sat, motioned for her to sit beside him, a good-sized wooden box in his hands. “These belonged to your grandmother’s grandmother and so on, going back to the Eighteenth Century. They would have gone to my sister, but … I have saved them all this time for this special day.”
Shanti opened the box—and stared, the breath leaving her lung
s in a rush. “Oh!”
On a lining of red velvet sat a necklace, bracelets, a hair ornament, and matching earrings, all of them made of gold and set with diamonds, rubies, and little pearls.
“Your ancestors were Barendra Brahmins and very wealthy. These jewels are all that remains of their ancient wealth.”
Shanti’s vision blurred. “You want me to wear these?”
“How does it go—something old, something new…? These are very old. They are twenty-two karat gold. The stones and pearls are real.
“You’ll have to help me.” Shanti had never worn anything so valuable—or heavy.
“This is a maang tikka.” Her mother clipped the hair ornament into her bun and rested the fine golden chain in her part so that the gem-encrusted ornament hung against her forehead. Her father took the heavy necklace and draped it around her throat, fastening the clasp. Her mother slipped the bracelets over her wrists. The earrings were so heavy they came with gold wires that went over and behind her ears for extra support.
“Oh, Shanti, look at you.” Her mother put on her veil.
Shanti stood and walked to the mirror, seeing her reflection for the first time. If it hadn’t been her face, she wouldn’t have recognized herself. She looked like a bride, but not a typical American bride. She was the child of two cultures, of two countries, and both of them shone in her reflection.
Her father kissed her on the top of her head. “When you walk down the aisle today, you walk with all the generations of your family.”
Shanti hugged her parents, fighting tears. “Thank you. I love you both so much.”
Her mother handed her the bouquet of white orchids. “It’s time.”
“Let me fix your tie.”
Connor endured his mother’s fussing with the knot, excitement warring with disbelief inside him. He and Shanti were getting married today. Shanti was going to be his wife. How the fuck had he gotten so lucky?
“There. You look so handsome.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Connor had decided to stick with a tux—black on black—rather than wearing Bengali clothes.
“All right, son. Are you ready?” his father asked.
“I’m more than ready.” Connor entered the party tent with his parents, the plain interior transformed overnight by bouquets of red and white roses that decorated the aisles, the wedding platform, the corners of the silk canopy, and even the walls. A chamber orchestra sat off to one side, string music filling the space.
“This is lovely,” his mother whispered.
Dr. Choudhary, a friend of Devesh’s from Cornell, was officiating and stood on the raised platform, a low altar in front of him, fire burning in a brazier at its center, plush seats set along the back for the parents.
Connor walked down the aisle with his mother and father, friendly faces turning his way, everyone smiling. He and his parents climbed the stairs to the platform, where they shook hands with Dr. Choudhary, the three of them speaking quietly together. Yes, it seemed an auspicious day for a wedding. Yes, Connor was excited. Yes, it was fun to have a cross-cultural celebration.
The song finished, and the chamber orchestra started a piece by Bach—the music Shanti had chosen for her entrance.
Barely able to breathe, Connor waited.
The flaps were drawn back, and there she stood.
Connor’s heart gave a hard thud, his pulse drowning out the music.
Princess.
It was the only word his brain could manage.
Shanti walked between her parents, looking like a vision of heaven, the sight of her making his knees weak. She wore a white lace sari, a veil hanging down her back, the skin of her hips and belly peeking through lace. She glimmered with gold and jewels at her forehead, her throat, her ears, her wrists.
A vision.
She walked gracefully up the stairs and came to stand before him, her gaze locked with his, the longing and joy in her amber eyes a mirror for his own emotion.
“You are so beautiful.” He took her hand, kissed it.
She smiled. “You look hot.”
Dr. Choudhary began to speak, but Connor barely heard a word he said, the world around them fading, Shanti the only thing in his universe. When it was time, his parents handed him a garland of white and red flowers, which he draped around her neck—a symbolic way of welcoming her to their family. Her parents did the same, but he had to bend down so Shanti could get the garland over his head.
More words, Dr. Choudhary’s voice flowing around him like water.
Then Connor took her hand in his, ready to lead her around the fire seven times, while Dr. Choudhary recited seven blessings.
“May you be blessed with abundance and comfort.”
“May you be strong and help one another in all ways.”
“May you be blessed with prosperity and peace.”
“May you be always happy.”
“May you be blessed with a joyful family life.”
“May you live in love and harmony, fulfilling your promises to each other.”
“May you forever be the best of friends.”
With one final step, they came to stand back where they’d started. They exchanged vows and rings, both of them promising to love, honor, and cherish for the rest of their lives.
And then, at last, Connor got to do what he wanted to.
He drew his princess close and kissed her.
September 4
Shanti shut off the alarm, rolled over, and kissed Connor’s bare chest. “Wake up, sleepyhead. It’s your first day of school.”
His eyes flew open. “Shit.”
Shanti couldn’t help but smile. The man who’d taken on an army was nervous about starting classes. “Take a shower and get dressed. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Connor took her into his arms, rolled her beneath him, kissed her. “I love you.”
He said those words often now.
“I love you, too. I’m so excited for you. I can’t wait to hear all about it when I get home this evening.”
Their four-bedroom condo was a ten-minute commute to United Nations Plaza, where Shanti had taken a job as an attorney for the UN’s refugee resettlement program, and only twenty minutes from Columbia University. They would never have been able to afford the place if it hadn’t been for the money she’d inherited from her grandparents. Now, they had a home in the heart of the city, a place where they could put down roots, where they could raise a couple of kids one day.
While Connor showered and shaved, she went out to the kitchen and found the recipe for chocolate chip pancakes that she’d gotten from his mom. By the time he joined her, she’d gotten the pancakes off the electric griddle and had set them on the table with real maple syrup, butter, and coffee made just the way he liked it—hot, black, and strong.
His face split in a wide grin. “Chocolate chip pancakes? You’re the best.”
“Today is a special day. We need to celebrate.”
She watched while he took his first bite. She wasn’t much of a cook and hadn’t made these before.
He chewed, nodded. “Mmm. Perfect.”
She took a bite. “Oh, these are yummy.”
They talked about little things—the bus schedule, the weather, the arrival of the new dishwasher tomorrow.
Then it hit Shanti. “A year ago, today, we were running through the jungle. It was the day we found the old temple ruins, remember?”
Had that really been a year ago? How their lives had changed in the course of that time. How they had changed.
“Hell, no, I haven’t forgotten that—Stone Porn Temple.” He grinned when she started to object. “I know. I know. It’s sacred art.”
They went through Connor’s schedule together. He’d opted to major in Peace and Conflict Studies and had won a full scholarship thanks to his high test scores and the brilliant and very personal entrance essay he’d written about the impact of combat on soldiers and their families.
After breakfast, he cleaned up while Sha
nti showered and dressed. She was wearing a skirt suit and carrying a briefcase, while he was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and carrying a backpack full of books and notebooks.
All too soon, it was time to say goodbye.
“Have a wonderful day—and try not to notice all the eighteen-year-old women running around campus in tight jeans.”
Connor wrapped his arms around her. “You have nothing to worry about—ever. Everything I want is here with you.”
They kissed, sweet and slow.
Shanti pulled out her phone. “I need to take a photo to send to your mom. Stand by the door with your backpack.”
He gave her a look that said this was stupid. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, it’s your first day of school.”
“Okay, fine, but I’m not in kindergarten, you know.”
He stood there, looking tall and strong and handsome—her hero, the man who had saved her, the love of her life.
“Smile.” She took a couple of shots. “See you this evening. Have a wonderful day. You can do this. I know you can.”
“Thanks for making me believe that I could be more than I was.” He kissed her again then turned and walked out the door.
Shanti watched him go, a lump in her throat. Then she texted the photo to his mother along with a little message.
First day of school. A new beginning.
Thank You
Thanks for reading Hard Asset. I hope you enjoyed this Cobra Elite story. Follow me on Facebook or on Twitter @Pamela_Clare. Join my romantic suspense reader’s group on Facebook to be a part of a never-ending conversation with other Cobra fans and get inside information on the series and on life in Colorado’s mountains. You can also sign up to my mailing list at my website to keep current with all my releases and to be a part of special newsletter giveaways.
Also by Pamela Clare
Romantic Suspense:
* * *