by Lena Black
“Give me your hand.”
I extend my hand out in the direction of his voice, and he takes it, carefully assisting me from the car. When I’m steady on my feet, he guides me down a stone pathway, familiar beneath my feet. Before I can place it, Hunt scoops me up into his arms.
“Damian,” I shriek at the abrupt jolt, wrapping my arms around his neck for support.
He chuckles deep in his chest.
“Don’t you trust me?” he asks with a teasing air.
“With my life,” I admit, my voice and face devoid of humor.
I sense the look of pride he’s giving me.
“Hold on, angel.”
We ascend a handful of stairs and walk about fifteen paces before the creaking of a heavy door being opened heightens my curiosity. He steps through the threshold, marble clacking under his heavy footsteps, and then sets me down gently. Once I’m on my own two feet, he removes my blindfold.
I’m taken aback when my vision adjusts to the change in light.
My family’s Napa home?
I turn to my smiling husband with large eyes.
“Welcome home, angel.”
“You bought it?” I ask with wonderment.
“Yes, I did.”
“When did you do this?”
“After our talk in the cellar.”
“Why?”
He laughs. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever known to question why I choose to lavish her.” He reaches out and grasps my wrist, hauling me into his large body. “But if you must know, Mrs. Hunt, I was determined to give you the future you want. No doctor or anyone else was going to take it away from you, from us. I suppose this place felt like the future we wanted was within reach.”
“If you bought it months ago, why now?”
“I left it under your parents’ names because I knew if Dante found out about this place, he’d try to ruin it. I signed the paperwork to transfer it over today.”
“Damian, you always manage to outdo yourself.”
He smiles down at me, placing a hand on the small of my back.
“Would you like a tour?”
“Please.”
He leads me through the manor, showing me the changes he made. Like you’d expect, it’s opulent, but done tastefully. The decor, rustic wood pieces mixed with modern elegance. The palette, cream and earthy tones. It’s white plaster walls, tiled floors with plush throw rugs, and wood beamed ceilings. Bouquets of white lilies lavish every room. It has a romantic grandeur I can only describe as Damian, yet it’s cozy warmth makes it ideal for the children.
“Damian,” I whisper.
“May we keep it?” he asks teasingly.
I chuckle, placing my hand over my mouth.
“Do you think it’s wise to spend this kind of money with a new family?”
I realize the idiocy of this notion when I hear it come out of my mouth. When you have vast wealth, things like discussing purchases on major items isn’t necessary. Even after a year of Hunt’s ultra-lavish lifestyle, I’m still acclimating to the ease he spreads his wealth. But that’s how the economy works, people spend money and the world keeps spinning.
I wonder if I went out and bought something ridiculously expensive, would he even bat an eyelash?
“Would it make you more comfortable if I discuss purchases with you first?” he asks, without any sarcasm.
Is that an option?
“Would you expect me to do the same?”
“No,” he responds as if he genuinely cares less.
Lifting his hand to my cheek, he rubs the apple gently with his thumb. He stares intently into my eyes and says, “Gabrielle, you know me. I want you to have everything you could possibly desire. I would walk to the ends of the earth to provide you with a life most couldn’t even imagine.”
“Damian, all I need is you.”
Hunt hooks his arm about my lower back, hugging me to his side with a fixed hold, and presses his strong lips to my temple, not in a kiss, but as another connection between us. Letting out a steady breath through his nose, it brushes down my forehead.
“I wish it could always be like this,” he mumbles in a far-off voice.
I nuzzle my head against his mouth, shutting my eyes and holding him closer. “Me too.”
Epilogue
I lay in our bed, staring at the high ceiling and smiling from ear to ear. Why might I be so damn happy? Well, these days I have a lot to be grateful for, and even though the road to get where I am was pitted with bumps and obstacles, the destination is beyond what I could’ve ever pictured.
With my daughter tucked into my side and my husband beside me, our son sleeping sound on his torso, I can’t help but feel at peace. Hunt had insisted on them sleeping in our bed last night and I wasn’t about to refuse the birthday boy.
Today is his thirty-sixth birthday. A day that once held so much pain for him.
I take in a deep, cleansing breath, attempting to shake the feeling of sorrow for Hunt, and notice his eyes are open and focused on me.
“Good morning, angel.” After all these years, when he calls me that, my heart pitter-patters.
“Good morning, slick.”
We lean our faces into each other, trying not to disturb the kiddies still slumbering in our arms.
“Happy Birthday, you old fart.” We chuckle quietly.
God, that was anything but true. He looks better now than he did when I first set sight on him in the nightclub that fateful night.
“Thanks, Mrs. Old Fart.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” I turned thirty-one this past July, and I didn’t take it well, major anxiety. Hunt thought it was hilarious how I would check for lines in the mirror. He would tell me I was acting neurotic then make crazy passionate love to me, reminding me how beautiful I am to him.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him, afraid he may relapse back into that dark place.
“I’m great, Gabrielle. Really.”
Grayson stirs on his chest. “Daddy’s voice is loud,” he says, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his little hand.
Hunt laughs. “Daddy’s sorry, little man.”
He pets his light blonde hair, cradling his head to his chest. He kisses the crown, shutting his eyes and letting out a content sigh.
Skylar remains asleep in my arms, uneasily woken.
“What’s today, Grayson?” I ask him as he looks over at me from his father’s loving embrace.
“Daddy’s burfday,” he answers, and we laugh.
“That’s right, baby. It’s your daddy’s birthday. Are you excited to eat cake and help Daddy open presents?”
His hazel eyes light up at the idea of cake and presents, and he giggles boisterously.
I can’t help but notice how much he reminds me of Hunt. I suspect he just wants to be like his father. He so admires him. He watches him constantly with wide, thirsty eyes. I’ve started to recognize his need to control things, such as telling his little playmates what to do and how to do it. Damian loves it, muttering, “That’s my boy.”
I just shake my head.
He has great aspirations for Greyson. He plans to send him to the finest schools and groom him to one day take over Hunt Industries Inc. On top of it all, Hunt has spoiled him rotten, giving Greyson a taste for wealth.
Being uncomfortable with this, I asked Hunt to explain what it means to work hard for what you earn, to understand that it comes with restrictions and responsibility.
Skylar on the other hand, is much more grounded and strong-willed. She does things on her own time and won’t be told otherwise. She’s very intelligent and creative. She paints, draws, and dances. We’ve been thinking about teaching her an instrument, and Hunt has been teaching her how to take photos. If it’s artistic, she gets her hands on it.
One thing that I’ve learned to appreciate adopting these little blessings, is what my father did for Maya and I, loving us unconditionally, even though we were not biologically his. I learned to appreciate having Cal
eb in my life. We took it one step at a time, but I eventually got to a place where I could truly accept him as a fatherly presence.
Suddenly, Greyson erupts into a fit of laughter, slapping me from my thoughts and rousing Skylar. Not being a morning person, she frowns at her brother. Like mother, like daughter.
Hunt smiles at her. “Are you grumpy, baby girl?”
She nods, her head still resting against my shoulder.
“Would you like to wish your dad a good morning, sweet pea?” I ask, tickling the side of her face to ease her into wakefulness. It always does the trick.
“Morning, Daddy.” She crawls over me to get to him and settles in the nook that once was just for me. My heart swells at the sight of our children lying in my husband’s arms.
He glimpses over at me, content.
“Happy Birthday, Damian.”
He holds them closer to him. “Yes, it is.”
Once we get the kids up and ready for the day, leaving them with Vivi and my mother, Hunt and I head back upstairs to do the same. He follows me into our bedroom, and I hear the door shut and lock behind me. I spin around and spot the lustful fog in his eyes.
“What are you doing, Mr. Hunt?” I ask with a coy smirk.
“Well, hopefully, in a few moments, you.”
“Is that right?” I cross my arms over my chest, puckering my lips. “Any particular reason I should let you have me so easily?”
“It is my special day.” He saunters over to me and takes me into his arms. “And I want to open my present.”
I love the way he desires me. No matter how many times he’s had me, he still wants more.
I look around, surrounded by the people we love singing loudly and off key to Hunt in an outpouring of love and support. He looks happy, at peace, his brilliant smile painting it right across his face. With his arm possessively about my waist and our children hugging onto our hips, their tiny arms clinging on tight, I’ve never felt more loved and cherished.
When everyone finishes bellowing out ‘Happy Birthday’, ending at different times, and Vivian starts to serve the cake, I lean into Hunt. I speak softly into his ear, “Are you happy, slick?”
He turns his head to look me in the eyes. “Yes, and you’re the reason, angel. I wouldn’t have any of this without you.” He reaches down, wrapping his arm about Grayson at his hip. “You’ve given me love, hope, a family.”
“You’re an incredible father, Hunt. You’re going to be an even better one to the next.”
“To the next?” he asks, tilting his head in that way that makes me melt. I smile faintly, taking his hand into mine and placing it over the slightly protruding mound of my womb. I glimpse down at my belly then back up to him.
“Are you sure, Gabrielle?” he asks as a smile of understanding springs across his face.
I nod gently at him. “Surprise…I hope you like your birthday present. It’s nonrefundable.”
He laughs and wraps me up into his arms, clutching me to his chest so I can hear his strong heartbeat synced with my own. I look up into the face of the man I love and worship with the very fabric of my being. The future looks bright beaming from his loving, emerald eyes, with endless possibilities.
About the Author
Lena Black lives in Los Angeles with her fella. When she isn't writing, she's reading, listening to killer tunes, or being a general goofball. She is the author of A Dominant Man, A Dominant Fallen, A Dominant Salvation, Metal & Lace, Spanked, and Jamison. She currently has several projects in the works.
Music
Sharp Dressed Man – ZZ Top
Legs – ZZ Top
Bennie and the Jets – Elton John
Mz. Hyde – Halestorm
Something I Can Never Have – Nine Inch Nails
Hardest Part – Laura Welsh
Do You Feel It? – Chaos Chaos
Thanks to the amazing artists that inspired Hunt and Elle’s story, even the ones that didn’t make it into the book.
Sea of Love – Cat Power
All of Me – John Legend
Salvation – Gabrielle Aplin
Take It All – Ruelle
Addicted to Love – Skylar Grey
Empire – Elle Henderson
I Want It All – Natalie Taylor
Human – Aquilo
Halo (cover) – Ane Brun & Linnea Olsson
Cavalier – James Vincent McMorrow
101 Vultures – Alex Winston
Powerful – Major Lazer & Ellie Goulding
Not Gonna – Lily & Madeleine
I Found – Amber Run
Blue Blood – Laurel
American Money – BØRNS
Beggin For Thread - Banks