“I WANT to go to the family house in Newport,” I tell Spencer later that night, when we’re in bed and the apartment is dark and quiet.
Too quiet.
I’ve been amped up ever since my visit with Summer, and then the lunch with Spencer’s mother. It’s almost like I’m…manic. I haven’t felt this way since Earl died. Full of nervous energy mixed with a healthy dose of uncertainty. Always unsure of what could possibly happen to me next. There are no more visible threats, not really. I have Spencer with me, and he swore he would protect me no matter what.
Even from my mother.
So why the uneasiness? Why is there constant dread swirling in my stomach, making it tough for me to eat? To think? To sleep?
I’ve dealt with this feeling pretty much my entire life, and I hate it.
I want it gone.
The only way I believe that’ll happen is if my mother is truly out of my life. I may have banished her out of it as much as I can, but her energy is still out there, filling up the city. It’s as if I knew she’d returned. I could feel her spiritual pressure or whatever you want to call it. When she went out of the country, I was totally free.
But I’m not free any longer, and it’s the worst feeling in the world.
“You want a cat. You want to go to the Newport house. Next, you’ll want to go back to California.” The amusement in Spencer’s voice is obvious.
“Yes. I’ll probably want to do that next week,” I tease, sitting up in bed so I can look down at him. He’s lying flat on his back, his arms propped behind his head, biceps bulging. I can barely see him, but the city lights from the cracks in the curtain shine through, illuminating him in an orangey glow.
He’s so stupidly handsome, I want to grab my pillow and whack him on the head with it.
Then I think of my mother and her clutching that pillow, eager to press it to my face in the hopes to end my life, and I forget all about it.
“Why do you want to go to Newport? That house is enormous.”
“And blessedly private.”
“With a thousand servants to indulge your every whim.”
“Not a thousand,” I tease. There are quite a few though. “Knowing they’re there makes me feel safe. My mother won’t try anything with a bunch of servants in residence.”
I’ve thought about this. There is nowhere nearby I can escape to but that house. People will be watching me constantly. She doesn’t go there anymore. Not really. Not since we’ve all become adults and moved on.
“Whatever. You want to go there, you should go there.”
“I want you to go with me. We could spend the weekend there. It’ll be fun. The weather is better. The food is delicious. We could sit by the pool and bake ourselves in the sun.” Another idea comes to me, better than the first. “Maybe we should go on vacation. I know Europe is extra hot right now, but the Italian coast has been calling to me lately. God, it’s so beautiful there.”
“I’ve never been,” he says, his eyes slowly closing.
“What? You’ve never been to Italy?” My mouth pops open in shock. “You’re Italian, Spence.”
“I never said I haven’t been to Italy. I have been, plenty of times.” His eyes crack back open, his lips curling in a sexy smirk. “We just never made it over to the coast.”
“Oh. Well, that’s just…shameful. You must go. We need to plan a trip now. We can go by the end of the summer. Maybe even September, when it’s still warm but not overly so. I can put everything together—I have a travel agent who’s amazing. Has inside connections with all of the luxury hotels on the Amalfi coast. We could take a couple of weeks away. Just the two of us.” I practically throw myself at him, landing on his chest and making him grunt. His arms spring away from his head and automatically go around me, and I snuggle in close, almost purring in contentment.
I got what I wanted. My man holding me.
“I can’t leave until later in the fall. Too much going on with work right now.” When he speaks, his mouth brushes my temple, making me shiver.
“You always have to work.” I’m pouting.
“You’re right. I do.”
I contemplate what I want to say to him and wonder if he’d consider it rude.
Forget it—I’m saying it. He knows how I can be and I haven’t scared him away yet.
“I have a lot of money.” I lift my head to find him already watching me. “I could take care of us for the rest of our lives and still have a ton of money left over.”
“I don’t want your money, Syl.” His expression is serious, as is his tone.
“Is this some sort of macho thing, where you won’t take my money and you want to stand on your own two feet?” I roll my eyes when his head barely moves in a nod. “That’s incredibly archaic. My trust fund is so huge it would take generations to spend it all.”
“Leave it for your children then,” he says.
My heart stalls in my chest. “My children? Or our children?”
“Our children.” He pauses. “Though now I’m remembering you said you didn’t want kids.”
“Yet,” I emphasize.
The more time I spend with Spencer, the more I want to have his children. I can envision it now. They’d all be dark-haired and dark-eyed, and we’d break the fair-haired and blue-eyed curse of the Lancasters.
My children wouldn’t even be Lancasters. They would be Donatos, and I like that idea.
A lot.
“All right then, yes. Our children. Eventually,” he tacks on to make me happy.
My blood pumps hot and fast at his words. The soft glow in his eyes as he watches me. He reaches out, his fingers sifting through my hair and my body goes liquid.
“Are you implying that you’re going to ask me to marry you?” My heart trips over itself at the thought, and for one terrifying moment, I’m afraid I overspoke.
It gets worse when Spencer gently dumps me onto the mattress before he’s climbing out of bed. I watch him go, sitting up once more, clutching the sheet to my chest. I am naked and vulnerable and scared he’s going to say we’re moving too fast. That I need to slow down.
He does none of that. I watch as he walks over to his dresser and pulls open a drawer, withdrawing something small from within before he shuts it. He ambles back over to the bed, completely naked and one hundred percent casual about it, leaning over to flick on the lamp before he takes my hand.
And proceeds to get on one knee.
“What are you doing?” I squeak.
“Listen to me.” He squeezes my hand and I go completely still. Utterly quiet. “I love you, Sylvie. So damn much. I barely remember a time when I didn’t love you. I’m probably rushing this, but fuck it. I bought you a ring.” He holds it out to me with his other hand, and I gasp.
It’s a giant, deep red ruby flanked by diamonds on either side. It’s bold and outrageous and exactly what I’ve always wanted.
“Will you marry me?” he asks as I stare at the ring, too overwhelmed to speak. I lift my gaze to his, noting the nervousness I see there.
I throw myself at him again, making him fall backward onto the floor, the ring dropping as well. I rain kisses all over his face, murmuring “I love you” over and over again, until he’s laughing and trying to get away from me.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he’s finally able to say when I stop kissing him everywhere.
“Yes.” I straddle him, his thickening cock nestled between my legs. I thrust my hips forward, hissing out a breath when I feel him nudge against me. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
He glances around, his brows furrowed. “Where’s the ring?”
I look around too, until I spot it to my right, lying on the carpet just out of reach. I lean over him, my tits in his face as I grapple for the ring, and a jolt runs through me when he draws a nipple into his mouth, sucking it deep.
“Spencer,” I chastise, though my voice is weak.
I don’t really mean it. It feels too good, his lips on my skin. Tugging and pulling, his tongue lashing. I clutch the ring in my fist, my eyes falling closed when he switches to my other nipple, and I tilt my head down, watching him.
He eventually releases my nipple with an audible pop, his heated gaze locked on mine. “Where is it?”
I hold it between my fingers in front of his face. He snatches it from me. “Give me your hand.”
I do as he asks, holding my breath when he slowly slides the ring on my finger.
It’s a perfect fit.
“I saw it, and immediately knew it was yours,” he admits.
I stare at my hand, at the deep red ruby that’s so large it practically covers my whole knuckle. “I love it.”
“I love you.”
The depth of emotion in his voice threatens to send me into tears. I kiss him instead, clutching his beloved face with my hands, my tongue delving deep, searching his mouth. We kiss and kiss, rubbing against each other, our skin heated, our bodies ready.
Eventually, I readjust myself, sliding down his thick cock until he fills me completely. We lie there, his body throbbing inside mine, our gazes catching. He kisses me before he shifts up into a sitting position, me on his lap, my legs winding around his waist, his erection still embedded inside me.
“You belong to me,” he whispers in my ear, his hands on my hips guiding me. “There is nothing I won’t do for you, Syl. Not a single thing. You’re my everything.”
I wind my arms around his neck, my mouth finding his, devouring him. I love how protective he is of me. How safe I feel when we’re together. I don’t want anyone else.
Just him.
“I love you,” I whisper against his lips. “I can’t wait to be your wife. But I need something from you.”
“Anything.” He pulls me down, his cock going as deep as it can get, making me moan.
Making me forget for the briefest moment what I want from him.
But I can’t forget. I need this one last thing.
“Be truthful with me.” He tries to kiss me, but I dodge his seeking lips. “Tell me what you do. For your father. For the family business. I deserve to know the truth, Spence.”
He goes still and I do too, my gaze never straying from his. I want him to know I’m not scared. He can tell me anything and I won’t run.
“Whatever it is, I’m not leaving. You won’t lose me. I’m not afraid. Not of you,” I say when he still hasn’t spoken. “Please, Spence.”
“Syl—”
“Don’t give me an excuse. Tell me, Spencer. I need to know. I deserve to know.”
Leaning in, he presses his forehead to mine, blowing out a harsh breath. “It’s a lot.”
“I have witnessed so many things over the years, had so much happen to me, I can handle it. I’m not afraid.” I swallow hard. “Tell me.”
“Right now? Don’t we have better things to do?” He thrusts upward, gripping my hips and keeping me in place as he slowly fucks me. “We can talk about this later.”
“You always say that, and it’s never later. I hate that you won’t talk to me about this. It’s like you’re keeping this from me on purpose.”
“I am,” he says without hesitation. “There are some things better left unsaid.”
Irritation fills me. “If you won’t tell me, I don’t know if I want to marry you—”
He clamps his hand over my mouth, silencing me. His cheeks are red, his eyes blazing with barely-contained anger. “No. You don’t get to play that game. You love me, I love you. We’re getting married.”
I stare at him, shocked by his ferocity. I don’t bother speaking since his hand is still covering my face.
“Besides, it’s too late. You can’t back out now.” He slowly lowers his hand from my face, his mouth brushing against mine. “You’re mine. Forever.”
He kisses me, his body moving in mine, trying to make me forget, but his words are on repeat in my head.
You’re mine. Forever.
They make me feel safe, but they also leave me a little…
Scared.
