by K. I. Lynn
Her face scrunched up and her body gave a hard shake before she turned her face into my chest. Hot, wet tears fell upon my skin.
I reached up to rub circles on her back and pressed another kiss to the top of her head “There was no way in hell I was letting that insect harm you.”
She lifted my head, sniffling. “I almost lost you.”
“Don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry.”
She cupped my cheek. “Don’t do that again. Promise me.”
“I can’t,” I said with a shake of my head. “If you are in danger, I will protect you.”
“I’m sorry. I got scared.”
“Elaborate. Scared of what?”
“We’re just a contract.”
“I know it was originally a business contract, but to me, it’s become more than that. Am I not good enough? Am I not enough for you to fight for?” I asked. My voice was raw, exposed. I hated showing emotions, but between my injury and her distress, I was unable to keep it in. “Why did you leave?”
“Because the other night was real to me, and it was just another business deal for you.”
“Everything is contractual to me, but that night wasn’t.”
“What was that stack of bills for other than paying me for my services?”
My eyes widened. “The money for your sisters?”
She stared up at me, her eyes wide in horror. Days before, she told me her sisters’ tuition deposit for their new school was due and the school didn’t take credit cards and she didn’t have a checkbook.
“You didn’t tell me you were going out of the country and then Jack handed me that envelope and I thought…I thought…”
The anger seeped out of me as understanding flooded in. From the beginning, despite our attraction, Ophelia didn’t want to feel like she was selling her body to me—the whole reason for her clause in the contract. Handing her a stack of cash after sex with no explanation attached was bound to cause mixed signals.
“You thought something stupid, didn’t you?”
She nodded in between sobs. “You left, and…and then, but you didn’t say goodbye.”
“Didn’t say goodbye?” I tilted my head to look down at her. “Do you think me so cold to leave you like that?”
She nodded.
A groan left me. “Hmm, well, next time I’ll make sure you’re fully awake so you won’t come to idiotic conclusions. Better yet, I’ll just take you with me.”
“What?”
I brushed the hair from her forehead, fully exposing her beautiful light brown eyes. “I very much said goodbye. I pressed my lips to yours, and you reached up and drew me closer. It was nearly impossible to pull myself away, but you were already asleep again before your head hit the pillow.”
Her brow scrunched, and she shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
A sigh left me. “You are the most infuriating creature I have ever encountered. Fuck the contract—I just want you.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why?”
I paused and clenched my jaw. The words I was about to say I’d never said to a woman before. They weren’t words that passed my lips often: foreign and weighty, and the verbal expression of the emotions I held for her.
“I’m in love with you, Ophelia. Utterly and all-consumingly in love with you to the point of madness.”
“Really?”
“Truly.”
“I love you, too.” Another sob broke from her, but her expression wasn’t filled with anguish, but rather a hypnotic glow with a blinding smile.
“What am I going to do with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m completely wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice. And you have a bad habit of running when you’re scared. Stop.”
Her fingers curled into a fist around the thin blanket covering me. “That’s what I do. I run. I’m a runner.”
“Stop running from me.”
She met my gaze. “But you’re the most dangerous thing to me.”
“Why?”
“Because you can break me.”
“That’s the last thing I want to do. Talk to me, and tell me how you feel.”
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Overwhelmed, and besides the pain, I’m cycling between panic that is wearing off, euphoria of finding you unharmed, and the need to chain you to my bed so that you can never leave me again.”
Her eyes widened. “Never leave you?”
“Never. Not in five years, and not in fifty.” I cupped her cheek, making sure she was looking at me. “I mean it, Ophelia. I love you. I can no longer live without you beside me. And next time you can’t find me and are worried, call until I answer.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “What am I going to do with you?”
“You already asked that.”
“Do you have an answer for me?” I asked.
She took her bottom lip between her teeth. “Love me forever?”
I ran my thumb against her bottom lip to soothe it, relishing the pink that spread across her cheeks. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
I was certain I would never love anyone else but her.
The flurry of events after Atticus was shot were a blur. Lou and my mom were both in jail awaiting trial for multiple offenses including false imprisonment and aggravated assault, not to mention the growing case for the murder of my father.
Between Lou’s confession and the information Atticus’s team uncovered, the answer to the question I’d asked from the moment the cops appeared at our door was answered. A selfish, greedy, evil man had taken away the person that meant the most to me. And he almost did it a second time.
I had hope that when the trials were done, they would both rot in jail for the rest of their lives. There was no good will left with my mother after I found out her involvement in addition to all that she had helped Lou with. My father’s death was on her hands as well.
Rhys had tried to alleviate my anxiety by informing me that the first-degree kidnapping charge alone held a minimum twenty-five-year sentence, and that applied to both Mom and Lou. And that didn’t even cover the list of other sins they were being charged with.
Brooke and Andrea were going to continue to stay with our aunt in New Haven, with financial help from Atticus and me. Their private high school and any college they wanted to attend was paid for. I also set aside two of our extra bedrooms for any time they wanted to visit or stay.
They didn’t blame me for anything that had happened, only themselves for not telling me what was going on sooner, but I knew Lou had struck fear in them. Fear was a hard thing to break. Over the past few months, they’d overheard Mom and Lou talking, plotting, and even whispering, “We’ll kill Ophelia if we have to.”
Thankfully, Brooke and Andrea remained as sweet and innocent as I remembered, not seeming to take on some of their parents’ vile traits, though they were showing signs of being the teenagers they were with their bickering. We had plans for them to come out the following week for a few days before the new school year began.
For now, we were taking a much needed break, mostly due to Atticus’s injury but also my own. Cuts were still healing, and bruises were still visible, but faded more and more with each day.
Once Atticus was released from the hospital, we stayed at the Tower for a few days before moving out to the Hamptons house for a few weeks—the Asylum—to heal. Atticus’s doctor told him he needed rest, and he wasn’t going to get that in the city. A few other de Loughreys followed: a very pregnant Elizabeth and her family, Rhys, Georgiana, Hamilton, and Penelope. Though Georgiana’s side had their own house, she stayed with us.
I had to admit I liked it when there were more people, because that also meant more security. Michael and Damien were always with us, of course, and Michael kept an eagle eye on me at all times. Guess I deserved that.
None of them stayed the entire time, coming and going
as they pleased. Although we were outside the city, I couldn’t get Atticus to completely shut off and relax. Even Holly had come out for work, bringing her partner Becca along with her, which only served to make me even more embarrassed about my jealous outburst weeks before.
Like all de Loughrey properties, it was huge, though small compared to Stronghold. My favorite part was sitting on the porch and listening to the waves crash on the shore. If only the water were warmer.
I sat on one of the plush lounge chairs on the covered porch as I stared at the list of invites for the wedding. I was thankful I wouldn’t have to address all seven hundred myself as Vera had already hired a calligrapher.
Seven hundred.
I invited six—Aunt Stacey, Brooke, Andrea, Mitchell, my friend Dani from college, and my grandfather.
Atticus had his private investigator, Hugo, track him down, and I was happy to find that the last link to my father was still alive. I’d just gotten his address and telephone number the day before and was working up the courage to talk to him. Mom had brainwashed me that my father’s family didn’t want me and that had created an insecurity, but I had resolved to contact him by the weekend.
Long ago, before I was even in the picture, Vera had employed a wedding planner who was thankfully consulting me more about the wedding. Once I truly understood the scale of the event our ceremony would be, it didn’t bother me at all. I just submitted ideas and was happy they were being considered. Less stress on me anyway.
And I was excited about it for the first time.
Why?
Because I’d stupidly fallen for the wicked king. And I couldn’t be happier.
He loved me, too. He said it over and over again, and my heart was fit to bust.
We were in love and getting married. We were a legit couple planning a wedding, no longer simply carrying out the terms of our contract.
I moved my attention away from the never-ending list of names I didn’t know, though half ended with de Loughrey, and moved back to my arch nemesis—the Binder of Doom. After two months and after skipping to the end that held the Code of Conduct and list of businesses the family ran, I’d finally finished.
In between mind-numbing years of information on my future husband, I’d gone through the family history and genealogical information, mixed in with other books I’d acquired. There was so much information, I wasn’t sure I would ever remember it all.
My guiding light was the fact that I was learning about his life in a more organic way these days. The Binder of Doom couldn’t tell me that he had the scariest side-eye I’d ever encountered, or that a smile was like winning the lottery.
The man was much more interesting than his history book.
I closed my computer and soaked in the soothing sound of the waves crashing on the shore. It was such a peaceful sound. And while for the most part, it was relaxing, there were still times of tension, especially when everyone was together at the dining room table.
Hours later, we all sat around the table. Atticus hissed as he grimaced in pain after trying to lift his arm up to cut his food.
“Here, let me,” I said, reaching out with my utensils to help.
“I can do it myself,” he growled.
At times his attitude ramped up, the wicked king leaking out. Coming across as weak and not having control were two things he hated.
I slumped back into my chair. “Fine, but you don’t have to be so stubborn.”
“See, this is what happens when you get involved with the help,” Hamilton said with a sneer at dinner one night.
Of all the de Loughreys, Hamilton was the one I was getting the most tired of. The ruthless prince didn’t mince words and was constantly expressing his opinion as bluntly as possible.
“What has your panties in a twist?” I asked, having had enough of his attitude.
“You’re not good enough to be a de Loughrey.”
“Watch your tongue, Hamilton,” Atticus glared at his younger brother.
“I’m telling you, you’re going to eat those words. And I’ll be laughing the entire time,” I said. I knew from experience the proudest men could be brought to their knees by the most innocuous of women.
His glare darkened. “That’ll be a cold day in hell.”
I grinned at him. “Better bring out that winter gear.”
He threw his napkin down and abruptly stood before stomping off down the hall.
“I think you may have hit a nerve, Ophelia,” Penelope said with a giggle.
“They bicker like brother and sister,” Holly said, laughing.
Rhys shook his head. “They butt heads because Ophelia doesn’t bow to him, reducing him to a child hurtling insults.”
I started to laugh, then cringed as pain shot through my brain. A sigh left me and I pushed my plate forward, my appetite gone as the pain increased.
Atticus stared at me. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head. “Headache.”
His lips formed a thin line. “They’ve been happening more since then.”
I nodded in agreement. “The doctor said they’ll lessen when everything regulates again.”
After my initial retelling to the police where he was present, we didn’t talk about my time locked in the basement. Atticus’s anger was nearly unstoppable when the subject was brought up. He’d already worked hard from his hospital bed. It may have only been a few days, but all the beating combined with days of starvation and dehydration was proving hard to bounce back from.
“I’m going to go lie down,” I said, pushing my chair back.
Atticus reached for my hand and pulled it to his lips. “I’ll check on you shortly.”
I nodded, then made my way up to our bedroom. It reminded me a lot of his room at Stronghold, full of navy blue, but instead of dark woods, they were painted white, giving it a lighter, more vacation-home-type feel.
The room was illuminated from the setting sun, and I crawled onto the bed and snuggled in. Every night, I couldn’t help but touch him as I slept. Even if it was simply my hand resting against him, as long as I could feel him, I was okay.
He was safe.
I was safe.
We were safe.
There was an odd feeling in my chest. It was as if my body was lighter, and I found my mind wandering yet again.
Ophelia filled my every thought, distracting me from my work.
Is this what love is?
It had to be true, because after admitting it to her, it felt like a shackle around my heart released, leaving nothing but an all-consuming desire to possess every part of her.
No more barriers were in our way, and what was once just a marriage of convenience was now one of love. The only woman to ever have my heart.
The problem was that she’d completely infected my mind, and I’d wasted most of my limited day. After everything and we were released, I took Ophelia out to the Asylum. Her smile was missing, lost in all that happened, and I was determined to bring it back. It also got us away from the constant barrage of the press and the stress they created.
Somehow, they got wind of the kidnapping and my being shot, and they’d become relentless trying to get photographs. The incident was all over the news, and I’d even had to force the leakage of some information to keep them from spinning it however they pleased.
When a photo cropped up of Ophelia sitting on the veranda, we packed up and fled. It was better, less crowded, and we were finally able to relax some.
However, I was also determined to get some amount of work done. I barely took weekends off, making being forced to slow down excruciating. I didn’t know how to relax.
Getting anything done was difficult, not only because of my doctor’s orders to rest, but also due to my left arm being in a sling.
While Ophelia’s injuries were superficial and she was healing quickly, my own would take a bit longer. The bullet had passed through my arm, barely missing vital arteries.
Even with one arm down, I was able to force h
er to relax, to make her writhe and blast away everything from her mind. Her flushed skin and tight nipples combined with her sounds was enough to drive any man mad.
“You are looking entirely too full of yourself. Stop it immediately,” Rhys called out, pulling me from the memory of Ophelia’s flushed face. Probably a good thing as next would be the auditory memory of her moaning.
“Excuse me?” He’d actually managed to catch me off guard. I seriously needed to get my focus back. I’d never found myself in such an absurd state.
Rhys sat down with a smirk on his face. “Gotta hand it to you, cousin. I doubted you when you said you’d have her pinned to your bed in less than six months. What I didn’t expect was you falling in love with her in the process.”
“Really?” Somewhere deep down, I’d always known. That was why I couldn’t let her go, why I chose her.
His head tilted to the side as he scrutinized me. “Hmm. Well, perhaps. It was her after all. Your siren. She lured you in with ease.”
“You think the last few months have been with ease?” I asked. Ease was not the word to cover the struggle, the walk through fire, we’d endured to get where we were.
“You haven’t complained much.” He blew out a breath. “Well, I suppose it was about time it happened to one of us. I’m certain our ancestors are rolling in their graves with ten…nine descendants in no hurry to marry and procreate.”
It had been inconceivable to our grandfather that only one of his grandchildren had borne the next generation of heirs. Elizabeth was both praised and shunned by him as her children didn’t bear the de Loughrey name.
“Before Ophelia, I felt that children were an obligation.”
“That’s because that was all you were seen as.”
That was correct. I was an obligation to fill the role of successor. My being wasn’t created out of love, and that was why I had such a difficult time with the concept of love.
Not anymore.
“It’s hard to admit that I am not confident in my abilities to be a father, but that isn’t enough to negate my desire to have children with her. I find I want and I am excited to see the perfect mixture of the both of us.”
“Ophelia will make a great mother.”