The Billionaire's Redemption (The Billionaire's Kiss, Book Five): (A Billionaire Alpha Romance)

by Olivia Thorne

  He stands there for a moment, thinking…

  …and then he gets down on one knee.

  I gasp. “Oh my God – wait – you don’t have to do that!”

  He gives me that smile that always sets my heart fluttering. “I think I do.”

  “Grant – I didn’t mean – ”

  All of a sudden, there’s a tiny velvet box in his hand.

  My heart catches in my chest.

  “I’ve been carrying it around for the last couple of days, waiting for the right moment,” he says. “This might not be as romantic as what I’d hoped for, but… I’d say it’s the right moment.”

  He opens the box, and the diamond inside catches the sun and cleaves it into a thousand rays of sparkling light.

  I start to cry. I can’t help myself.

  “Eve Saunders… I love you,” he says as he slips the ring out of the box and holds it at the tip of my finger. “You saved my life – now will you make the rest of it worth living, and marry me?”

  I press my right hand to my mouth. I’m so overcome I can’t speak, so I just nod.

  “Is that a yes?” he grins as he slips the ring on.

  “Yes!” I cry out, tears running down my cheeks as he takes me in his arms. “Yes – ”

  And then we kiss.

  113

  Make-up sex is wonderful. ‘Reunion sex after a near-death experience’ is mind-blowing. But I think the best of all is ‘let’s spend the rest of our lives together’ sex.

  We couldn’t get back to the palace fast enough.

  As we lie there afterwards, I admire the ring on my finger. The stone catches the sun again and lights up the bed with reflected sparks of color.

  “You like it?” he asks.

  “I love it.”

  “Good.”

  “It’s just…”

  He frowns. “It’s just what?”

  “It’s almost too much.” Afraid of giving offense, I rush on: “I absolutely love it, but you didn’t have to spend the GDP of a small country on it.”

  “Don’t worry, I can afford it,” he jokes.

  “I know… it’s just…”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I practically stole it.”

  The word ‘stole’ rips through me like an electric jolt, and I bolt upright on one arm.

  He sees my face and rolls his eyes. “I didn’t really steal it – calm down. It was my grandmother’s.”

  “Oh.” That piece of information should make me even happier – a treasured family heirloom! – but it doesn’t. “Why did you say that, then?”

  “Because I had to get one of my employees to get it out of the family safe and – never mind, look – ”

  “Does your family know you got the ring?!” I ask, horrified.

  “My grandmother willed it to me when she died, so it’s none of their damn business what I do with it.”

  “Oh…”

  He sighs. “This isn’t about the ring.”

  No. No, it isn’t.

  “Are you going to continue… your ‘hobby’ after we’re married?” I ask timidly.

  He looks at me for a long moment before he answers. “I promised you in Paris that I’d quit, so… I’ll stop.”

  Part of me feels relief.

  And part of me feels ashamed, like I’m taking away something that he loves.

  I know it’s stupid – I mean, he nearly lost everything because of his compulsions.

  But I don’t feel happy about the promise I’m extracting from him.

  I look away. “If I recall correctly, you only promised to do that if I didn’t go with the FBI. But I did.”

  He half-smiles. “Well…”

  “I also recall that I said I couldn’t accept your offer.”

  “Consider it a wedding present.”

  “Grant…”

  He shrugs. “Maybe it’s time for me to give it up. Burglary almost got me killed, after all.”

  “It saved two women’s lives, though. And probably a whole lot more.”

  He chuckles. “You’ll get the hang of this arguing thing after we’re married awhile, but when I finally give in on something, you’re not supposed to turn around and start arguing my side.”

  “This isn’t an argument,” I say unhappily. “I just…”

  I can’t finish the sentence, because I don’t know why I’m so unhappy.

  “How about this,” he says. “Burglary almost got me thrown in jail for the rest of my life. Can’t argue with that.”

  My shoulders slump a little. “…can’t argue with that.”

  “Cheer up. You told Mailin you’re on the straight and narrow from here on out; I’m just joining you on the bandwagon, that’s all.”

  I wish hearing him say that made me happy.

  It might have… except that when he said it, it seemed a little bit of the light in his eyes flickered out and died.

  114

  We have the wedding two weeks later.

  I know what you’re thinking – That’s CRAZY quick! – but one of the things I love about Grant is his impetuousness. Whether it’s jumping out of a skyscraper or falling off a boat to save my life, he pretty much makes a decision and then he’s in, 100%.

  He would argue that none of it is impetuous, that it’s all carefully considered and planned – but this is also a guy who broke into houses he designed. He’s a little bit crazy, and there’s no getting around that.

  On one of our day trips around the island, we see a chapel out in the middle of nowhere. A little girl is walking across the square in front of it. She’s about six or seven, and she’s wearing a cute little white dress and daisies in her hair.

  “She looks like a bride,” I remark off-handedly.

  Grant watches her walk away, then peers up at the church, which is all white and elegant in its rustic simplicity. “Want to get married here?”

  I think he’s joking. “Okay.”

  “How about a week from now?”

  I laugh. “Sure. Why not.”

  When you think that Grant is joking, but there’s at least a 1% chance he might be serious, you should double-check. Otherwise that’s how you end up jumping out of skyscrapers and ditching planes in the English Channel.

  I don’t realize he’s serious until we fly to Barcelona that afternoon to pick out a wedding dress. When I’m standing there in a designer gown, in a boutique where a single dress costs as much as my yearly salary, it finally hits me:

  I’m about to get married.

  We invite our families, and that’s it for the guest list. We figure we’ll stick to the FBI’s dictates until we hear otherwise.

  We consider inviting JP and Dominique, but we both agree that it would be cruel to put Dominique through that. Not to mention I really don’t want her potentially upstaging me. Or speaking up when the preacher asks, If anyone knows any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony…

  And JP really doesn’t give a damn, we’re both sure of that.

  For a second I consider calling Mailin, but I remember our last exchange over text – I’ve always wanted to tell you, but… well, I’m telling you now. I love you – and I decide it would be cruel to invite him, too. So we decide to keep the invitations to our closest relatives.

  Actually, there is one exception: we decide to disobey the FBI and invite Connor and Lily.

  However, before we do, the news breaks across the world that Connor’s billionaire father has died.

  Grant calls to console his friend, but he can’t get through. Instead, he reaches some bodyguard named Armin who says that Connor’s not talking to anyone, so Grant leaves a message with heartfelt condolences.

  Suddenly our own families’ presence at our wedding becomes that much more precious.

  A week later, everyone flies into Majorca. As soon as they see me, my parents fuss and my mother cries – which is understandable. After all, when your only child becomes an international fugitive and doesn’t call you for a week,
you tend to freak out. Not only that, but after Grant got JP to send a warning about Epicurus, Grant’s father had my parents spirited away to a remote Colorado cabin with bodyguards. THAT freaked them out even more.

  But all that stress and drama is forgotten when they meet Grant, who treats them with real warmth and affection. Before you know it, both Mom and Dad are calling him ‘Son.’

  A few hours later, I finally get to meet Grant’s family – his parents, his sisters, and his brother, along with a niece and nephew – and thank his father for taking care of my parents.

  Grant’s family is… interesting. I mean, they’re a billionaire dynasty of construction industry magnates. When I met Grant, I thought ‘the rich really are different from you and me.’ I hadn’t seen anything until I met the Carlson clan. But it’s obvious they love Grant, even if they have their own dramas brewing amongst themselves.

  They look at me a little askance at first – I’m guessing they were expecting him to wed an heiress, not a former computer hacker – but once they hear over dinner about how I braved a serial killer to save him, I’m part of the family forever.

  We keep the details hazy on who Epicurus actually was in order to comply with our agreement with the FBI. The last thing we want is for Agent Duplass to get wind that we broke our NDA’s and decide he’s going to ruin our lives for the hell of it.

  My own parents are less enthralled with the serial killer part of the story. In fact, they’re horrified. My mother ends up drinking too much to calm her nerves and has to be escorted by my father to bed.

  She’s fine the next morning, though, and the ceremony is absolutely beautiful. Grant’s niece and nephew serve as flower girl and ring bearer. As a surprise, Grant hired members of the London Symphony Orchestra to play in a string quartet, so I walk down the aisle to the most beautiful rendition of “Here Comes The Bride” you can imagine.

  The pastor speaks English with a charming accent. Everything is going smoothly until we get to Grant’s wedding vows. When the pastor reaches ‘to love and to cherish,’ he adds, “to abide by all our agreements, and to walk the straight and narrow path.”

  Grant winks at me as he repeats the words.

  He specifically had the pastor put the extra vow in there for me.

  I almost wish he hadn’t, because it breaks my heart to hear him say it.

  When I say my vows and reach ‘to love and to cherish,’ there are no extra statements by the pastor.

  He finally gets to, “Till death do us part.”

  But I don’t repeat the line.

  Grant looks at me quizzically.

  “Till death do us part,” the pastor repeats, prodding me onward.

  “To follow the straight and narrow and never hack another computer or break the law, either, till death do us part,” I blurt out.

  It’s quite possibly the most unconventional addition to the traditional wedding vows ever, but, hey – falling in love with Grant was nothing if not unconventional.

  Our families murmur and act confused, but Grant just laughs.

  And when we kiss after the vows, I think I might see a hint of that light in his eyes again.

  115

  The reception is lovely. We have it in the most luxurious hotel on Majorca, where we feast like kings, dance all night, and drink tons of champagne. By the time I kiss my parents and in-laws goodnight, I’m drunk as hell.

  Maybe that explains what happens next.

  We’ve rented the penthouse for the night in order to be closer to our families. We laugh and kiss as he carries me over the threshold, then he kicks the door closed behind us. He throws me on the bed in an alley-ooop! motion. I bounce and giggle amongst the folds of white lace rustling all around me.

  “Here – let me get this off,” I say drunkenly, and start trying to find the clasps to undo the back.

  “No,” he says as he locks the door. “I want to make love to you with it on.”

  “Oh…” I say, surprised.

  He starts by softly kissing my ankles as he pulls off my heels and massages my aching feet.

  “Ohhhh…”

  His kisses travel slowly up my right calf to my knee. He parts my legs, then continues kissing softly up my right thigh until he reaches my panties. He begins to kiss over the fabric as he gently strokes my bare skin with his fingers.

  “Ohhhhh…”

  He gently moves aside the underwear and begins to delicately lick my lips, stroking me up and down. He parts me, gently enters me, and sinks deep inside me with his tongue.

  “OhhhhHHH…”

  Then he reaches my clit and licks and sucks and kisses until I’m swimming in ecstasy.

  “OH… OH… OH…”

  He moves up the bed and I feel his leg brush against mine. Beneath the fabric, his cock is already hard.

  He pulls off my underwear, and then I hear the ziiiip of his fly.

  Then I feel that gorgeous, thick head touch my wet lips. It sloooowly begins to ease inside…

  But all I can think of are our wedding vows, and him saying, To abide by all our agreements, and to walk the straight and narrow path.

  “Stop,” I whisper.

  He’s kissing the tops of my breasts, gently pulling the bodice down to find my nipples. “What?”

  I want to have sex – my body is screaming out for him to be inside me – but I can’t. I feel too guilty.

  “Stop,” I say, and push him away from my breasts.

  He looks up in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

  I breathe in deeply. I don’t want to have an argument on my wedding night, but I can’t go any further. Not with this albatross around my neck.

  “I have something I have to say.”

  He groans. “Can’t this wait?” he asks, and mischievously eases the tip of his cock further inside me.

  My eyes roll back in my head with pleasure, but I wiggle up far enough that he’s completely out, and my ability to think returns. “No – we have to talk about the vows.”

  “I think the time for that was before you said ‘I do.’”

  “I’m serious.”

  He sighs. I’m killing the mood, and we both know it.

  “What?” he asks as patiently as anybody in his situation possibly could.

  I wonder if I’m doing the right thing… and then decide, Fuck it.

  I take a deep breath and say it all at once: “I don’t want you to stop your hobby.”

  He lies there just staring at me, probably wondering why the hell we’re having this conversation now.

  “But – ”

  I put my finger against his lips to silence him, then ramble on drunkenly. “I know you said you would, and I know you would keep your promise – but… you love it. It’s something that makes you feel alive. And I want you to feel alive. I want you… all of you… not just the safe, sterilized version. I want YOU in all your messy, fucked up glory. So… I don’t want you to give it up for me. I want you to do whatever it is that makes you… you.”

  He looks almost as happy as when I said I would marry him.

  “Are you serious?!” he asks excitedly, like a little kid who just heard a puppy bark inside his last unwrapped Christmas present. “Are you serious?!”

  Oh God.

  I realize I’m drunk, and I just gave my husband permission to break into people’s houses.

  I think I’m going to regret this in the morning.

  “Yes,” I groan. “Just… don’t steal anything, okay?”

  He laughs. “Deal!”

  “I mean, you can’t go to jail for very long for breaking and entering, can you?” I ask, wincing.

  He laughs again – a long, joyous, in-love-with-life kind of laugh – and as he does, I can see the light reappear in his eyes.

  It’s the best wedding present I could have asked for.

  “Nope. And I won’t get caught… because I’m… damn… GOOD.”

  At the same time, he slowly eases his gorgeous cock inside of me.

 
“Oh my GOD,” I gasp.

  What follows is pretty much the BEST. SEX. EVER.

  116

  The next morning, I wake up and find him face to face with me, his eyes already open, looking at me with utter love and devotion.

  I smile shyly.

  “Good morning, darling,” he whispers, and kisses me.

  Our lovemaking is tender, sweet, gentle… until the last few minutes, when the sensations become overwhelming, and I scream and clutch at his powerful shoulders, urging him on harder, faster, deeper. He bellows as he comes, and feeling him explode inside me sets me off one final time that leaves me utterly spent.

  We hold each other for another ten minutes, softly caressing each other’s skin, talking about our first day as a married couple. When we’re supposed to meet our families for brunch… the excursion we have planned to the north side of the island…

  But it’s still early, and he wants to get in a swim before it all begins.

  I lounge in bed and enjoy watching his Greek god-like form as he slips out of bed, completely naked, muscles bulging, cock dangling tantalizingly between his thighs.

  “Don’t tucker yourself out in the water… I might want some more fun-time before breakfast,” I say.

  He grins as he pulls on his bathing suit. “Yes, Mrs. Carlson.”

  Mrs. Carlson.

  I like the sound of that.

  I get up and give him a long kiss, and he cops a mischievous feel before he slips out of the penthouse and down to the beach.

  I yawn, stretch, and put on a luxurious terrycloth robe, soft as a cloud. Then I sit down at the desk with a bottle of water and check my emails.

  Over 1100 requests for comment from NBC, ABC, CBS, Fox News, CNN, MSNBC, Telemundo, Der Spiegel, the Guardian, the New York Times, the Washington Post, and every other newspaper and television show on earth. Not to mention the National Enquirer and all its tabloid brethren.

  I have another twenty emails from friends. It breaks my heart not to be able to talk to them, but the whole ‘Dieter Lassenbach, Billionaire Serial Killer’ story is still all over the news.