“In case he wants that old thing back one more time,” Marisa chimed in.
“No hugs, kisses and then long strokes,” LuLu added drily, motioning with her hand for her daughter to rise.
“Y’all told her about that?” Samira asked, jerking her thumb toward her mother, who was now sliding her coat up her arms as if she were a child.
The women all shrugged, as if they couldn’t help themselves.
Samira accepted her bag from her mother. “I don’t have anything to say to Lance,” she lied. “What if his new woman is there? What if I embarrass myself letting him know I even care that he moved on so quickly and publicly proclaimed his love for her when I had to slow-walk his ass to even leave his estate?”
“That sounds like some things that need to be said,” Ngozi offered.
“And we’re all here to support you in saying goodbye one last time,” Marisa added.
Goodbye.
“He didn’t even say goodbye,” she said softly, mainly to herself. “Neither did I.”
“Let’s go, ma poupée de chocolat,” LuLu said, leading the way out of the door.
Samira was a bundle of tight nerves and anxiousness as they all made their way to the elevator and then down to the lobby. Her mother’s chauffeur-driven SUV awaited them at the curb. She was surprised to see Roje holding the door for them.
“I thought you retired?” she asked.
He chuckled. “I did. I’m not chauffeuring. I’m driving my fiancée,” he explained, turning to hold the passenger door open.
LuLu smiled up at him before she scooped up her full-length mink and climbed in with the regality of the queen of England.
Samira barely gave it a second thought as she slid onto the rear seat beside Marisa with Alessandra and Ngozi on the third-row seat behind them. Soon they were being driven through the streets of Manhattan. She had no clue what the other women discussed to occupy their time.
She began to pant and pursed her lips to focus on exhaling and inhaling before she passed out.
This is crazy.
“Retouch your gloss, Samira,” Marisa said. “And catch those flyaway hairs.”
“And the purpose of putting lipstick on a pig headed to slaughter?” she asked, even as she opened her bag and removed her compact mirror and tube of lip gloss.
“Let him see what he’s missing, dear,” LuLu smoothly supplied from the front seat.
Samira caught Roje giving her an encouraging but worried smile in the rearview mirror, and she surprised herself by smiling back as if to let him know she was okay. She had to admit that she liked that he was concerned.
“It’s right up ahead,” Roje said.
Samira nodded as she eyed her reflection in the lit mirror to apply a fresh coat of a peachy shade. You are crazy.
She snapped the compact closed.
Roje double-parked. Through the windows of the big bookstore, she could see the large crowd in attendance to hear her Lance. No. Not yours anymore. Still, she was proud of him.
As the women all climbed from the vehicle and entered the brightly lit store, Samira’s eyes went to the rows of seats facing a small stage with a podium. Annalise introduced Lance to thunderous applause, and Samira felt breathless as he stepped through a door and stepped onstage. Sans hat. He looked good. Really good.
Damn good.
“Good evening, everyone,” Lance said into the mic attached to the podium.
She looked up at him as he glanced about the crowd with a warm smile.
“Thank you so much for coming out into this weather to see me. I truly appreciate it. I really do,” he continued.
Samira pressed her hand to her chest and felt the pounding of her heart. “Do you see him?” she asked, turning around. She frowned to find none of the women still behind her in the crowd.
“Hi, Samira! It’s good to see you.”
Annalise.
Instantly she remembered the night the woman had so clearly worn her feelings for Lance on her sleeve. Perhaps she had finally won him over. She turned with reluctance. “Hello, Annalise,” she said, barely able to muster any niceties into her voice.
The woman’s expression became guarded. “Um, this is for you,” she said, handing her a copy of Lance’s hardcover book.
Samira eyed it as she strode away from her. It wouldn’t fully close. She opened it.
Taped to the dedication page was a beautiful diamond ring beneath the words Marry me.
“Wait. What?” she said, touching the ring as her face filled with confusion.
And then she saw the dedication: For Samira. Forever. For always. For love.
She felt light-headed as she looked up. His eyes—those delicious brown eyes—were on her. Waiting. Assessing.
“I hope you all excuse me for just a moment while I handle some important business before we start the reading,” Lance said, and then he stepped down and walked up the middle of the aisle to reach her.
Every person in the packed area turned to watch them, and murmurs floated through the crowd.
Lance pulled her close to him and lifted her body up a bit. “I had a lot of shit to get together, and I needed more than thirty days,” he whispered near her ear. “Counseling helped, but I would not come back to you until I was ready to love you the way you deserve, Samira.”
Samira closed her eyes and brought her hands up to press against his strong back.
“I thought you were done with me until Alessandra called to cuss me out for how she thought I treated you,” he continued. “She also revealed you still loved me.”
Oh, Alessandra, thank your nosy heart!
He released her with a kiss to her neck and then knelt before her.
Gasps and sighs swelled in the air. Flashes from phones of the attendees and the cameras of the press began to pop like crazy.
He took the book from her and removed the ring before reaching for her trembling hand. “I love you, Samira,” he said. “Thank you for pushing me to be a better man. To be happy. To find the colors. I want to share the rest of my life with you. I want to have beautiful babies with you. I want you to be my wife.”
“Awwwwww,” several women sighed in unison.
I’m the one he loves. Me.
Samira stroked his cheek with her free hand. “I love you,” she admitted. “I am speechless.”
“Just say you’ll marry me.”
She nodded and used the back of her hand to swipe away an emotional tear. “I will,” she whispered to him.
“She said yes!” someone exclaimed.
Lance rose and grasped the sides of her face as she rose up on her heels to meet his mouth. The crowd erupted in applause. Their kiss was brief but filled with their hunger and the familiarity of their unique chemistry. She suckled his tongue with ease, getting lost in him.
“That’s enough, you two, you’re in public.”
Samira’s eyes widened in shock as she broke the kiss at the sound of Alek’s voice. She whirled to find the entire Ansah and Dalmount squad behind them. Quickly she hugged each one as Lance and everyone in attendance patiently waited. Her mother. Alessandra’s aunts Brunela and Leonora. Alessandra, Marisa and Ngozi. Chance and his mother, Esmerelda. Her brother Alek, who held her niece, Aliyah, and then her brother Naim, who corralled a squirming Kwesi. And finally, Roje.
“Don’t forget us.”
Samira whirled again, and happiness lit her face as she squeezed Helena and then Lawrence to her before bending to plant a juicy kiss to Law’s cheek.
“Let’s get this book signing finished so we can celebrate,” Lance said, reaching for her hand.
“Me?” she asked as he pulled her behind him toward the stage.
“Yup. You’re not leaving my side,” he promised her.
Lance reclaimed his spot at the podium, and Samira accepte
d the seat Annalise offered her.
“Congratulations, Samira,” she said with warmth.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling remorseful.
It must have shown in her eyes, because the woman gave her hand a brief but tight little squeeze before they both focused on Lance.
* * *
After the book signing and dinner with both their families, they returned to Lance’s home, where, just inside the foyer, he lifted her up and turned to press her back against the wall as he kissed her deeply. Hungrily. And he was starved.
“God, I missed you,” he moaned into her mouth.
Samira turned her head to break their connection. “Wait, we need to talk,” she said.
“But—”
She lightly touched her fingertips to his mouth, stopping him. “Please,” she insisted.
Lance nodded even as he shook away her touch and pressed light kisses to her cheek.
“Therapy?” she asked.
“Not done with it. At all,” he added. “But it helped. You were right. I needed the time apart to get my shit together, even if it meant taking the chance to lose you. I had to find me.”
Her eyes searched his. “I thought you gave up on us.”
“I thought the same about you,” he returned, feeling vulnerable.
She stroked his scar. “Yes, but Alessandra had to get involved?” she asked.
He saw her doubts and hated them even as he understood them. He’d had some of his own with each day that had passed during their separation from each other. “Alessandra accelerated the plan, but she didn’t create it,” he insisted. “I was coming for you, Samira. I purchased the ring a month ago.”
She lightly bit her bottom lip, and that made his inches harden.
“Good,” she said.
“Good.”
“My family leaves for the Swiss Alps in the morning,” she said with a wince.
“I know.”
“Now what?” she asked.
“You invite me along,” he said simply, with a face like “duh.”
Samira chuckled. “You celebrate Christmas now?” she asked.
“Hold on,” he said, with an arm around her waist.
She wrapped her legs around him and gripped his shoulders as he turned to stand in the entry to the living room. It was dark.
“Watch this,” he said, extending his arm to hit the light switch.
He watched her face closely as she gasped in surprise at the abundance of colorful, brightly lit Christmas decorations. The works—a huge tree. Garland on the mantel. The sounds of soulful Christmas carols playing. Christmas scenes tucked away on tabletops. Colors galore.
He loved the sight of it all reflected in her eyes.
This was what Christmas meant to him again. Spending it with someone he loved who cared for him just as deeply.
“You like it?” Lance asked.
She nodded. “When you get your shit together, Lance Millner, you really get your shit together,” she said, hugging him around his neck and enjoying the warm and spicy scent of him.
“Uh-oh,” he teased, pressing kisses to her neck.
“What?” she asked as he carried her deeper into the living room.
“Hugs,” he said.
He pressed his mouth down upon hers. “Kisses.”
“And long strokes,” they said in unison.
* * *
Samira awakened with her head on Lance’s chest as they lay with limbs entwined atop the thick rug in front of the lit fireplace. His snores blended with the crackle of the logs in the firebox. She leaned up on one elbow to look down at him. She could hardly believe the day’s events. She had found her happily-ever-after.
With a smile, she looked around at the festive Christmas decor as Teddy Pendergrass serenaded them with “This Christmas (I’d Rather Have Love).” She held her hand up and looked at her ring. “So true, Teddy,” she whispered.
“You happy?”
She looked down to find Lance’s eyes open and watching her. “Absolutely,” she said.
He pressed her down onto the carpet and turned over to settle himself between her legs. “I will never get enough of you,” he said, rolling his hips to slide his growing hardness against her leg.
Her eyes heated as she arched her back and presented her hard nipples to him to suck. He quickly obliged, drawing a raw, strangled cry from her that only hinted at her desire for him. “Lance,” she gasped, clutching at his strong shoulders.
He kissed his way up from her cleavage to her neck as he slid his hand beneath her to lift her buttocks. She spread her legs wide and shivered as he used his strong hips to guide the smooth tip of his dick to her core. She licked hotly at his mouth before he deepened the kiss with a moan and thrust his hardness inside her.
“Ooh, that feels so good,” she whispered.
He smiled down at her as gave her the last inch with a hard thrust.
She cried out. “I feel you,” she gasped.
“And how does it feel?” he asked as he lightly bit on her chin.
“Hard.”
He raised one of her legs up to rest at his shoulder and bent his own as he began to circle his hips, easing his length inside her with long tantalizing strokes.
“You’re the gift that keeps on giving, huh?” she asked, her eyes glazed as he quickened the pace of his thrusts, each one more powerful than the last when he struck against her fleshy bud.
“Damn right.”
“Merry Christmas to me,” she said with a sultry smile.
She tilted her chin up and deeply kissed the man she loved before they both roughly cried out, clinging to each other as they gave in to their explosive and hot climaxes.
Epilogue
One year later
“Happy six-month anniversary, Mrs. Millner.”
Samira smiled as she woke to Lance pressing warm kisses to her shoulder where they lay spooned in the middle of their king-size bed. Their bodies were nude, and the feel of his skin pressed against hers was the best way to wake up.
She glanced back at him over her shoulder with a slight arch of her brow. “I remember someone once said I would never be a Mrs.” She reminded him of his earlier insult with the hint of a smile.
Lance chuckled. “He was a bitter and angry fool,” he said, his breath whispering against her neck.
She shivered as she turned to lie on her back and look up at him. “And now?” she asked, stroking his strong jawline.
“Now he’s happy again,” he said, his warm eyes locked on hers before shifting down to her belly, rounded with their child. Their daughter. Emmerson Ansah Millner.
“Just three more months,” she said as he pressed his hand against the roundness.
Samira covered his touch with her own and looked over at the lit Christmas tree filling the corner of their suite in Naim and Marisa’s chalet in the Swiss Alps. The twinkle of the white lights in the fading darkness as morning came was beautiful—even more so as she envisioned next Christmas.
“Do you think Emmerson will love Christmas as much as I do?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Impossible,” he drawled.
“Right,” Samira agreed.
He fell silent.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Lance looked down at her.
“You good?” she asked.
He smiled and nodded. “I’m good,” he reassured her, his eyes offering warmth because she understood holidays were still a bit difficult for him.
He was free of the fog of his grief and guilt, but she knew he missed them, and she would never ask him to hide that from her.
“Good,” she said, raising her head from the pillow to press a kiss to his dimpled chin.
Six months ago, on a beautiful golden beach in Accra, the capital of Ghana, Samira had
wed Lance surrounded by their family and friends. The ceremony had capped off a week of the Ansahs, Dalmounts and Millners enjoying the West African country, reconnecting with her parents’ family, savoring the food and strengthening their connection to their ancestry.
It had been everything she wanted and more. Something right out of a fairy tale. Magical, even.
Afterward she and Lance honeymooned on a secluded tropical island in the Maldives for another week before returning to Passion Grove to check on the building of their new estate on the land on Baby’s Breath Lane. They’d moved in just a few weeks ago upon the completion of its construction and interior decoration.
She smiled to think of how badly she’d wanted the land for business, and but now it would be the foundation for her home. Her family.
“We better get downstairs,” Lance said, sounding reluctant as he bent his body to quickly suckle one of her taut nipples into his mouth before he rolled away and rose from the bed.
She eyed his nudity as she did the same, promising herself a tryst with her husband after breakfast. “Maman promised you bofrot this morning,” she said, speaking of the fried doughnuts he’d fallen in love with in Ghana.
“And they are best fresh out of the grease and not in your brother’s or Roje’s greedy hands,” he said, quickly tugging on pajamas before striding into the adjoining bath.
Samira smiled, loving how close Lance had become to her family. Gone was the awkwardness and his isolation. He was one of the family, just as she had come to love his parents and little brother. She pressed a hand to her stomach and couldn’t help but smile as she let it sink in that she really did have it all. Love, family and career. It had been worth every bit of the fight.
* * *
A Tiara for Christmas
Carolyn Hector
Kimber licked her lips in response before she could come up with a verbal challenge. “Only if you think Mrs. Claus wouldn’t mind.”
“This Santa is single.” To prove it, Dario lifted his left hand and showed his naked ring finger. “Are you up for the position?”
“Highly unlikely that’s going to happen,” Kimber said. “This elf doesn’t compete with the helpers in Santa’s village.”
Christmas with the Billionaire ; A Tiara for Christmas Page 15