by Luma Rose
I shake my head. “I mean let’s do it sooner rather than later. Would you be disappointed if we didn’t have a huge wedding that takes years to plan?”
At first, I worry that I’ve upset her with my suggestion because she appears stunned, but then she smiles. “I’m so happy to hear you say that. I don’t want a huge wedding at all.”
I plunk her down in my lap. “The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned.”
“I agree.” She leans in and kisses me deeply and then she sinks down onto her knees in front of me.
“What are you doing?” I ask with my hand on her cheek.
She maneuvers my thumb into her mouth, licking and sucking as she undoes my belt. “Exactly what you hope I’m doing.”
She undoes my zipper and reaches in, pulling my stiff length out. I lick my lips as I thread my fingers through her hair, then push her mouth down on the end of my cock. She moans around it as she sucks in her cheeks and takes me as far back in her throat as she can handle.
Fuck, I love this woman.
I lean my head back in my chair. A guy could get used to this.
Wedding plans are in full effect. The night after Isla and I agree to have a smaller-than-expected wedding, her mother hires a premier wedding planner to help make every vision of Isla’s come true.
I’ve been asked for my input here and there, but I’m happy with whatever makes Isla happy. I’m at the Flores house today to look over wedding invitations with Isla and her mother, since those need to get out soon. It’s amazing how quickly things can get done when you have a large budget. It’s only been a few weeks and we’re already choosing invitations.
“Hi, Amelia,” I say when she greets me in the foyer.
“How are you?” She kisses my cheek and brings me in for a hug.
At first it felt weird to accept her affection, it had been so long since I’d had any motherly presence in my life, but I’ve come to realize it’s just her way. She’s a warm person who embraces everyone.
“Garrin, come in. Isla is in the sitting room, poring over all the sample invites the wedding coordinator sent over.”
“Can’t wait,” I say, clearly joking.
She pats my cheek and smiles. “You’re a good man for pretending that’s true.” She winks and turns to lead the way.
I fall into step beside her. “How’s Hector today?”
Amelia always seems more stoic whenever the topic of her husband’s illness comes up, whereas Isla is always emotional.
“Today is a good day. He didn’t sleep a lot and has some of his energy back. Not coughing as much, so that’s all positive.”
“That’s good to hear.” I know what it’s like to lose a parent. Yes, I was much younger than Isla, but I don’t imagine it hurts any less. I don’t want her to have to go through what I did.
“It is. In fact… he asked to have a word with you before we start in on the invites.”
I stop in my tracks. “He did?”
She nods. “He wants to meet the man who’s stealing his daughter.” She raises her palms out in front of her and smiles. “His words, not mine.”
Shit, I was not prepared for this even though I knew it was coming. Isla and Amelia agreed as soon as he was better, I’d talk to him. Isla said her father is a proud man and doesn’t want to meet me while he’s weak and sick. The male ego is a fragile thing. I can’t imagine I’d want to meet me either in his position.
“Don’t look so nervous,” Amelia says. “He won’t grill you too hard, I’m sure.”
I push my hand through my hair. “Thanks for the words of encouragement.”
She chuckles and leads me down a hall I’ve yet to go down. When she reaches the end of the hall, she knocks softly and cracks open the door.
“Mi corazón, Garrin is here to see you.”
She pushes the door all the way open, waving me forward.
“Just be yourself. You’ll be fine,” she whispers as I pass her, and she closes the door behind me.
When I step inside, a man in his early sixties with dark hair and bushy eyebrows lies in the middle of a large king-sized bed. His color is sallow, but it’s obvious he’s Hispanic. His cheeks are slightly sunken, and he regards me with dull eyes and a small smile.
“Garrin, I presume?” he says.
“Yes, sir.” I step up to the bed but don’t offer my hand, not wanting him to have to reach over to grasp it. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
“Same. Have a seat.” He motions to the end of the bed, so I sit down, leaving one foot on the floor. “I wish we weren’t meeting with me lying in bed, but the doctor wants me to preserve my strength.”
I nod in understanding.
“I hear you’re feeling well today,” I say.
“Each day is different. Some days I feel like I’m dying, others there’s light at the end of the tunnel.”
I shift on the mattress. Looking at him reminds me of all the time my mom spent in her bed when she was wasting away. Like most uber-wealthy people, the hospital comes to them for a lot of things and not the other way around.
“I’m sure you’ll have more good days. Isla tells me your treatment is going well.”
He nods gravely and starts coughing. Hector looks like he’s in pain, and I go to stand to help him—to do what, I have no idea—but he waves me off, so I sit back down and wait out his coughing fit.
“I want to talk to you about my daughter.” He’s not smiling now, so I square my shoulders and settle in for what I expect to be a grilling.
“Of course.” I nod.
“I trust her judgment. Always have. She’s a smart woman.” He pauses to take in a deep, labored breath. “If she’s picked you, then you must be worth it.”
“I appreciate you saying that.”
“But I know your father. He’s tried to do some business with me in the past.” He pauses, his eyes investigating me, so I remain silent. The same look most people give me when they find out I’m Robert Stone’s son. Am I the bad apple that fell from the rotten tree? “He doesn’t like to be told no.”
My chuckle escapes before I can stop myself. “No, he doesn’t. Even less so from his son, I assure you.”
A small smile tilts the corners of his lips. “What I want to know is whether you’re anything like your father.” It’s clear where Isla got her bluntness from.
“My worst nightmare would be to be anything like my father.” My hands fist on my thighs.
Hector gives a small nod, hopefully his sign that he believes me.
“I need you to promise to always look out for my daughter. To protect her and love her.”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do.”
He coughs again and I wait patiently for the fit to pass. I’m beginning to think there’s a real possibility that this man is putting on a brave face in front of his daughter and wife. He’s clearly suffering.
“Good, good,” he says once he’s recovered. “I hope you’re not some all-talk guy, because if you hurt her, I will find the strength to climb out of this bed and make you pay.”
“Sir—”
He holds up a weak hand. “Let’s not, okay? The reality is that this disease might take me out. I’m not so naïve as not to realize the possibility of that is great at this point. But I’ve had a good life with both my girls. I need to know that someone will be looking out for Isla and her best interests after I’m gone. Whether that’s in two weeks or twenty years.”
His voice is solemn but full of acceptance. I brush off the urge to tell him platitudes and promises he’d only see as bullshit coming from my mouth. Like he said, there’s a real possibility that he’ll never see me fulfill the promises.
“I’ll look out for her,” I say. I meet his gaze and say it with all the sincerity I can, “I always protect what’s important to me.”
He nods. “Good. If you don’t, I’ll haunt you from the grave, boy.”
I chuckle.
Hector coughs again and yawns once the co
ugh takes his energy from him. “Hopefully I’ll be out of this bed soon so I can toast you and my daughter with a drink, but for now I need to rest.”
Standing from the bed, I nod. “It was good to meet you.”
“Surprisingly, same. Will you send my wife in so I can say goodnight to her?”
“Of course.”
With a small smile, I turn and leave, closing the door softly behind me.
On my way to the kitchen, I find Isla pacing at the end of the long hallway, waiting for me to come out.
“Hello, sunshine.” I pull her in for an embrace, but she pushes against my chest.
“My mom said my dad wanted to meet you. How did it go?” Her eyes are wide and filled with concern. “I would have gone in there with you.”
I use my index finger to smooth the lines on her forehead the way she always does with me. “It went well. He just wanted to make sure I had the best intentions for his daughter.”
“Really, it went okay? He liked you?” Her hand flies up to her earlobe and she twists her earring.
“I think so. I can see us spending some time on the golf course or sipping scotch once he’s recovered.” I smile down at her, not daring to mention her father’s acceptance that he might not win the fight with his disease.
Her shoulders sag in relief. “Thank God. I was so nervous.”
I pull her into an embrace, and this time her arms wrap around my neck. “I know how important your father is to you. I would never do something to jeopardize the relationship between us and make things difficult for you. Don’t worry, I’ll win him over. Just like I did his daughter.”
She chuckles and I lean in, taking her mouth with mine. I pull back and cup her face with one hand, lightly rubbing my thumb along her soft cheek.
“He wanted me to send your mom in to say goodnight.”
“Okay, why don’t you go and tell my mom? I want to say goodnight to my papi too.”
I nod in agreement. “Okay.”
“Then we can go through all the invitations and pick one.” Her smile is wide, showing the whites of her teeth.
“Can’t wait.” I feign excitement.
Isla laughs. “Sure you can.” She turns and heads down the hall, the way I came, and I walk toward the sitting room, replaying my conversation with Hector over in my head.
I will keep my promise to him. Nothing will hurt Isla, including myself.
39
Chapter Thirty-nine
Isla
The last several weeks have been a whirlwind. Work on the campaign has ramped up because the election is only a month away. Add to that all the wedding planning and spending time with my father, and of course my fiancée, lately every minute of my day is spoken for.
Which is why I’m happy that this Friday, Garrin and I have planned to stay in, order in and veg out in the theater room, watching a movie.
“Do you feel like Thai food or pizza?” Garrin asks, his thumb scrolling through the food delivery app on his phone.
“Those are my only two choices?” I chuckle and walk up behind him, resting my cheek on his back, my arms wrapped around his waist.
“I could be swayed to order something else depending on the incentive,” he teases.
“Is that right? Well, let me think, what could I possibly do in order to make you change your mind?” My hand roams down and cups his junk through his athletic pants and he instantly hardens.
“Easy, now.” He steps away and turns to face me. “If you start that, I’ll never get to order dinner, and then you’ll starve.”
I chuckle because he’s right. “All right. Let’s go with pizza. Ford and I grabbed lunch at a Thai place earlier this week.”
Garrin raises an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know that Ford knows better than to touch what’s mine, I’d be jealous.”
“Oh, stop.” I wave him off and walk to the fridge to grab a cold bottle of water while Garrin places the order on his phone.
“Okay, all ordered. Should be here within forty minutes,” he says.
“Now, whatever will we do with ourselves for the time being?” I lift my shirt over my head and drop it behind me and saunter over to Garrin.
Lately I’ve been reveling in my new discovery that I can be a sexual woman without having any shame attached to it. And looking at Garrin when he’s dressed down, athletic pants low on his hips, T-shirt pulled tight over his muscles, hair mussed, is my favorite aphrodisiac.
As soon as I get near, Garrin reaches around and unhooks my bra. I let the straps slide down my arms and it cascades to the floor between us. He reaches out and cups my breasts, running his thumbs over my nipples, which quickly pebble under his attention.
“I’m gonna fuck these gorgeous tits soon,” he says in a husky voice, licking his lips.
“No time like the present.” I smile coyly.
Without missing a beat, he grips my waist on either side and lifts me, hoisting me over his shoulder and carrying me to his bedroom. I giggle when he drops me on the mattress of his bed.
“Get up there and take the rest of your clothes off.” He points to the top the bed and I follow his instructions.
I watch as he undresses at the end of the bed. God, he is perfection when he’s naked. Like one of those ancient Roman statues with the perfect balance of lean muscle.
Once his clothes are on the floor, he crawls up my naked body, pausing at the juncture of my thighs to inhale deeply with a satisfied smile, and then licks the area between my breasts. I grip his dark hair in my hands and my breathing picks up. He places his legs on either side of my abdomen and brings the head of his cock to my lips.
“Open up, sunshine.”
I happily oblige and he pushes inside my mouth. Once I’ve thoroughly wet him, he pulls out and scoots down.
“Push your tits together.”
I reach down and press my breasts together, and he slides his cock in between them, groaning as he watches the tip disappear and reappear. He starts slow but picks up speed until he’s grunting and pulling back, jerking himself until white streams of cum spray all over my chest.
His dark eyes glitter as he wastes no time traveling back down my body and settling his face between my thighs. Minutes later I’m riding his face and screaming out his name.
My head lies on the pillow, my lungs still trying to catch up. “Let me get you a cloth to clean up.” He returns a minute later with a wet washcloth, and as he rubs it across my chest, the warmth seeps into my skin.
He’s paying close attention to what he’s doing, and I can’t help but watch him.
“I love seeing my cum all over you,” he says in a raspy voice.
“How caveman of you.” I grin. I don’t mention it turned me on too.
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “I’m pretty much all Neanderthal when it comes to you.”
“Suits me fine.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss.
The phone ringing on the nightstand interrupts us.
With a groan of frustration, Garrin rolls over to answer it. “Yeah?… Okay, thanks, Margaret. Send him up.” He sets the receiver down. “Food’s here.”
“Awesome. I worked up an appetite.”
He pulls his athletic pants back on with a grin. “Here, wear this.” He tosses me his T-shirt.
Garrin has a thing for me in his T-shirts. He finds it sexy, and I’m more than happy to oblige.
I pull the T-shirt on over my head, and the bottom of it falls to the middle of my thighs. I search out my underwear that I carelessly discarded earlier and slip it on. When I join Garrin in the kitchen, he’s setting the pizza boxes on the island.
“Smells good,” I say, grabbing a pair of plates from the cupboard.
“This came for you. Margaret sent it up with the guy.” He hands me a large manila envelope.
I turn and set the plates beside the pizza boxes and pick up the envelope. It’s addressed to “The future Mrs. Stone” with no return address.
“Huh. Doesn’t s
ay where it’s from.”
“Open it and see,” he says, opening the boxes and pulling out a couple slices of my pizza with pineapple and placing them on a plate, then doing the same for his pizza without pineapple. We have an ongoing disagreement about whether pineapple belongs on a pizza. I say it does, and then there’s Garrin, who’s wrong.
“It’s probably one of those invites to help us out with the wedding. I still think it’s weird that companies send a billionaire’s fiancée offers for free stuff for their wedding.”
I’ve gotten so many solicitations from companies across the country to provide free product or services for our big day. It’s all a little overwhelming.
Garrin chuckles. “Capitalism at its finest.”
I open the envelope carefully while Garrin grabs us some napkins. I pull out a single sheet of thick paper. It takes me a minute to register what it is I’m looking at. It’s a picture of a hotel bed with the covers pushed down to the bottom so just the bedsheet is exposed. But there’s… blood on the bedsheet. At least that’s what it looks like against the white sheet. At the bottom of the photo is a sticky note, and written in all caps are the words, “Ask your fiancée about prom night.”
My stomach lurches and I drop the photo, which flutters to the floor.
“Hey, I was thinking, after the movie—Isla? What’s wrong?”
I glance up and look at Garrin. He spots the photo, which landed facedown on the floor, and steps toward me.
I only know of one thing that happened on prom night, and that was Everly’s sister being murdered. Is that what this photo is about?
Garrin bends down to pick up the photo, and all color drains from his face. Then his features transform into fury and he crumples the photo in his hand.
“What are you doing? Don’t!” I try to rip the picture from his hand, but he continues to crumple it and then tosses it across the room.
“Who the fuck sent you that?” He yanks the envelope off the counter and turns it this way and that, looking for evidence of who might have sent it to me.
“Garrin, what is that picture about?” I take a step back.