“I don’t think he’s coming back.” Grinning, I nod toward the closed door that leads to the adjoining room. We’d started out an hour ago in Logan’s room, but ended up in Garrett’s after clearing out the minibar. Or rather, after I cleared out the minibar. Though in my defense, there were only two beers in there and two mini bottles of whiskey. Pathetic. Is that how they’re treating professional hockey players at the Azure Tower these days?
Then we realized they’d simply forgotten to replenish Logan’s bar, because when we went next door, Garrett’s was jam-packed with little bottles of booze. I’m fixing myself a rum and Coke as we wait for Logan. He said he was quickly hopping in the shower before he joined us for a final nightcap, but it’s been like twenty minutes.
“I bet he’s having phone sex with Grace,” Garrett guesses. “Or sending dick pics. You know every time we fly, he sneaks into the jet bathroom and takes pictures of his junk to send her?”
I snort. “Ha, like you don’t do the same for Wellsy.”
“Well, obviously. I’m not going to deprive my lady of all this…” He gestures up and down his body, then strikes a pose in his Bruins T-shirt and plaid pajama pants.
My favorite thing about my social circle? None of us lack confidence.
“Why do you have adjoining rooms anyway?” I glance at Logan’s door. “The whole world already knows you guys suck each other’s dicks. Just man up and share a room.”
“Hilarious.”
“Thanks.”
“Logan needs my protection,” G explains. “He’s afraid a puck bunny will sneak into his bed again.”
“I’m sorry—what?”
“Happened to him a while back in San Jose.” Garrett chuckles. “Grumpy jackass dragged himself all the way down the hall to my room and woke me up. Now he’s demanding I’m always next door, so he won’t have to go far if he needs to bunk with me.”
“Wow. Diva much?”
“Right?”
As I lean against the desk, sipping my drink, Garrett’s expression grows serious. “So, what are you going to do? Like, for real. Because you keep dancing around it.”
When I got to the hotel, I wasted no time telling my friends what happened with Allie the other night. The whole sordid tale of brutal rejection dished out by the girlfriend who supposedly loves me. But that’s about as far as we got.
Garrett swishes the ice cubes in his whiskey glass before bringing it to his lips. “So just to recap, she told you multiple times she wasn’t ready for an engagement.”
“Yeah,” I say warily.
“And you absorbed that information and were like, huh, I guess I should propose, then.”
I glower at him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t like that.”
“I’m trying to understand how it wasn’t, because it seems like she told you she wasn’t ready, and in response you bought a ring and set up a fancy dinner and ambushed her.”
“I can’t believe you’re Team Allie on this one.”
“I’m not. I’m Team Logic. Guess what, dude? We lucked out, man. We could’ve ended up with chicks who say one thing and mean another. The ones who let out those big sighs and then when you ask what’s wrong, they’re, like, nottttthing—” He mimics a high-pitched voice. “But we didn’t. I’ve discovered that usually when our girlfriends say something, they’re not playing games.”
“Right, and Allie has always said she sees us married one day,” I mutter.
“Yeah. One day.”
“So what does it matter if we’re engaged now but get married in ten years?”
“Exactly,” he says, head tipped in challenge, “what does it matter? Why do you need that ring on her finger so badly?”
That gives me pause. I suppose he has a point. We don’t need to be engaged. We already live together. We know we’re in it for the long haul.
It’s just a ring, right?
My hand curls tighter around my glass. No, though. It’s not.
It’s a symbol.
A symbol of our commitment. Yes, we live together and are in it for the long haul, and yes, I know engagements get broken all the time, but…Christ, I don’t even know anymore. And the irony of this entire situation doesn’t escape me. The guy who slept around in college, the self-proclaimed manwhore whose nickname was Dean the Sex Machine, needs a pledge of commitment otherwise his pwecious wittle heart won’t feel safe?
“The way I see it, you’re at an impasse. You can’t force her to get engaged.”
“No,” I agree.
“Then what are you going to do? Break up with her?”
I glare at him.
“What? It’s a valid question.”
“I’m not breaking up with her.” Frazzled, I gulp down almost half my drink before setting it on the desk. “I guess my only option is to accept she loves me but just isn’t ready. And then keep living our lives until that changes.”
“Holy shit. That’s very mature of you.”
I smirk. “I have my moments.”
On the nightstand, Garrett’s phone buzzes. He leans toward it to check the screen. “That’s Wellsy. One sec. Let me just text her back—”
“WHAT THE FUCK!”
We both jump when a male shout echoes beyond Logan’s door. It’s quickly followed by a female shriek.
A very familiar shriek.
Frowning, I march toward the door and loudly rap my knuckles against it. “Logan, was that my girlfriend?” I demand.
“Dean?” Allie’s unmistakable voice.
“Allie-Cat?” I call back. “Is that you in there?”
“Yeah, I’m here with Logan.” There’s a pause. “And his penis.”
Garrett’s head pops up from his phone. Sheer delight lights his face. “Oh God. I don’t even care that we got our asses handed to us by Jersey. This night officially just became the greatest.”
He hops off the bed and races to my side. One of G’s favorite pastimes is—to quote the asshole himself—“serving as a bystander to our stupidity.”
I knock on the door again. “Unlock this thing.”
When I hear a click, I throw the door open and burst into Logan’s room, where I find Allie and Logan facing off. My girl stands on one side of the king-sized bed, wearing the sequined dress she’d donned for the club. Only one stiletto, though. I look around, spotting the other heel on the carpet near the far wall by the bathroom.
On the other side of the bed is Logan. He’s buck naked.
I lift a brow. “Nice dick,” I tell him.
He sighs.
“Any reason why you’re showing it to my girlfriend?”
“I didn’t show her a damn thing.” His bare pecs flex as he lifts both hands to rake through his damp hair. Droplets of water slide down his neck. “I got out of the shower, and she was just right there, sitting on my bed. I thought it was another thirsty bunny.”
“So you decided to drop your towel?” Allie challenges.
“I was mid-drop when I walked out of the bathroom. Don’t act like I was stripping for you.” He scoffs. “You wish.”
Garrett snickers. In a helpful gesture, he picks up the towel and tosses it to Logan, who hastily covers up his pretty package.
My attention returns to my girlfriend. “Why are you in Logan’s room?”
“Why aren’t you in Logan’s room?” she shoots back. “Your text said Logan’s room!”
“His minibar was empty so we moved over to G’s. You didn’t think it was weird when you walked in and nobody was there?”
“I saw your jacket on the chair and heard someone in the bathroom. Thought it was you.” She crosses her arms defensively. “I certainly didn’t expect your friend to walk out with his stupid penis.”
“My penis isn’t stupid,” Logan protests. “How did you even get in here?” His exasperated gaze travels to Garrett. “How do they keep getting in here!”
Garrett shakes with laughter.
“My costar Malcolm brought a friend to the club tonight,” Allie tells us. “And turns out the guy’s dad owns all the Azure hotels. Don’t you dare rat him out, but he asked one of the bellhops to give me a copy of Logan’s key card.” She smiles broadly. “We met up at the service entrance behind the kitchen, and he handed it over all stealthy-like. It was like a drug deal.”
I fight a laugh. Only Allie would enjoy a pseudo drug deal with a total stranger. She probably memorized the entire encounter in case she needs it to prepare for a role one day.
“Awesome,” Logan says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Apparently anyone who feels like it can just ask for keys to my room and nobody bats an eye. Who the fuck decided I’m no longer allowed to feel safe in hotels?”
“Oh, boo fucking hoo,” Garrett mocks. “It happens to me like every month.”
I grin at G. “Brag.”
“As fun as this little reunion is,” Allie interrupts, her blue eyes focusing on me. “Can we talk? Alone?”
“You guys can use my room,” G offers.
I glance over gratefully. “Thanks.”
“Wait, let me get my shoe,” Allie says, hobbling across the room on one stiletto.
I narrow my eyes. “Why is it all the way over there?”
“Because she threw it at my head,” growls Logan.
Garrett hoots. “Such a good night,” he says happily.
A moment later, Allie has her other shoe, I’m snatching my windbreaker from the chair, and we disappear into the other room. I kick the door closed behind us, then stand in front of her while she timidly sits at the edge of the bed.
After a beat of silence, she says, “I’m sorry.”
“You came all the way to Jersey to tell me that?” I ask wryly.
“No, not just that.”
“What else?”
“I’m really sorry.”
I hide a smile. She’s so goddamn cute. Her sparkling eyes. Her smoking body in that short dress. She’s honestly my favorite person in the whole world.
“There’s more,” she adds, clasping her dainty hands on her knees. She takes a breath. “I had a forty-minute cab ride to plan out what I was going to say to you, but all my practice speeches sounded so cliché and contrived. I did a couple out loud for my driver, and he told me I was overthinking it.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “Overthinking what? Your apology?”
“No.” She exhales in a rush. “My proposal.”
This time there’s absolutely no stopping the smile. It stretches across my face, making my jaw twitch. “Your proposal,” I echo.
Allie nods. “I was talking to Seraphina, and she helped me understand something important. My whole life, I’ve planned for everything. I like doing things in steps. It keeps me focused and, I don’t know, I guess it helps me not get overwhelmed each time I’m faced with some major change.” She shakes her head, more at herself than me. “But I’m not in this relationship alone. You’re here too, and my steps aren’t always going to align with your steps. We can’t always do everything my way.”
I walk over and sink down beside her. “No, I was an ass earlier when I said it was all about you. You were right. It’s always been fifty-fifty with us.”
“Yeah, but sometimes it shouldn’t be. Sometimes one of us needs to give a hundred percent to the other.” She reaches for my hand and twines her fingers through mine. “I love you, Dean. I’m one hundred percent yours. And until we have that wedding—which I know Summer and your mom will turn into a gigantic, extravagant production—every time we meet somebody new, I want to introduce you and be able to say, this is the man I’m going to marry.”
My heart is beating a little faster now.
“I want to marry you one day. And until that day, I want to be engaged to you.” Her throat dips as she gulps nervously. “So. With that said. Will you, Dean Sebastian Kendrick Heyward-Di Laurentis, be my fiancé?”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to fight the rush of emotion that tightens my throat. I swallow a couple of times, then I bring my free hand to her mouth and rub the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip.
“Of course I will.” My voice is so hoarse, I clear my throat before continuing. “If you’ll have me.”
“Always,” Allie says, leaning into my touch. “I’ll always have you.”
Then she throws her arms around my neck, and I bury my face in her hair, breathing in strawberry and roses. When I lift my head, her lips find mine in a kiss that goes from sweet to dirty in two seconds flat. The feel of her tongue slicking over mine sends a jolt of heat to my groin.
Breathless, I pull back and say, “Fuck. I wish I had the ring on me. But it’s at home.”
Curiosity fills her eyes. “Is it big?” she demands.
“Huge.”
“How huge?”
“Massive. Even your dad was impressed.”
“You showed your dick to her father?”
Allie and I startle when Garrett comes stumbling into the room, a sweatpants-clad Logan flying in after him.
“What the hell?” I snap at them. “You guys were eavesdropping?”
Garrett’s defense is, “You’re in my room!”
“And I’m just nosy,” Logan pipes up. He shoots me a pleased smile. “Good call bringing up the dick at the end. I told you, every proposal needs a dash of sexy.”
“We weren’t talking about my dick,” I growl. “We were talking about the ring!”
“Oh.” He blinks. Then glances at Allie. “That thing’s ginormous. It’ll break your finger.”
Allie swivels her gaze back to me, beaming brightly. “You know me too well.”
I wake up the next morning with Allie curled up beside me in our bed. One slender arm flung over my bare chest, her fingers curled over my hip. When I peer down, I’m nearly blinded by the diamond on her finger. I swear, the second she saw that rock when I pulled it out last night, she got so turned on, she had me naked in a heartbeat, my dick stuffed in her mouth.
Now, I softly skim my fingertips along the curve of her naked back and smile up at the ceiling. We’re engaged, baby. Other men might be freaking out a little, but I’m pumped. This blinding ring on Allie’s finger is like a billboard announcing to everyone we know and everyone we’re gonna know, that this woman is mine. She owns my heart.
The nightstand vibrates. I’m not ready to check my phone yet, because I anticipate a barrage of texts and missed calls. It was too late to make calls when we got home from Jersey last night, but we did text Allie’s dad and my entire family to share the news. Then we ignored five FaceTime attempts from my sister and mother, and screwed each other’s brains out instead. Right before we fell asleep, we got a text from Joe Hayes. A simple thumbs-up. I love that man.
But as my phone vibrates again, I realize it’s not a normal phone call. It’s doing that buzzing tone it does when the concierge is calling.
I quickly reach for it. “Hello?” I say drowsily.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Di Laurentis, but there’s a courier down here with a delivery for Ms. Hayes. Can I send her up?”
Since our building security is tighter than Fort Knox, I know it’s not some bullshit request, so I say, “Yes, no problem. Thank you.”
I hang up and attempt to disentangle myself from Allie’s possessive grip. She doesn’t budge. “Baby doll, you need to move your arm,” I tell her, sliding my hand down to lightly pinch her hip.
She murmurs something unintelligible.
“Gotta answer the door. We have a delivery.”
Sleepily, Allie rolls over, flashing me her bare ass. Ugh. It takes all my willpower not to rub my suddenly hardening cock over that sweet crease. Stifling a groan, I force myself out of bed and swipe my boxers off the floor. I shove them up my hips then make my way to the front door, scratching my chest and yawning.
“Delivery for Allie Hayes?” a short girl with pink hair and a nose ring says when I open the door.
“That’s my fiancée.” Yup, never gonna get sick of hearing that. “Does it need a signature?”
“Nope. It’s all yours.”
The next thing I know, she’s shoving a medium-sized box in my hands and heading back to the elevators. I study the label, raising a brow when I discover the sender is Grace Ivers. Clearly Logan wasted no time spilling the big engagement news to his girlfriend.
“Who’s it from?” Allie’s sitting up when I enter the bedroom, her hair rumpled. She rubs the sleep from her eyes.
“Grace and Logan,” I tell her.
“That was fast.”
“Right?”
I set the box on the mattress, peel off a corner of packing tape, then rip the entire strip.
“I can’t wait to show this off at the wrap party tonight,” Allie gushes, admiring her ring as I open the box.
I find a folded piece of paper lying beneath the cardboard flaps. The message inside is short and to the point.
Congratulations on the engagement! The three of us are so happy for you!
“The three of them?” Allie’s reading the note over my shoulder, her eager hands now reaching into the box.
A sick feeling creeps up my throat. I have a horrible suspicion I know exactly what—
“No!” she moans when the porcelain doll emerges from the box. “Oh my God, Dean, he’s on our bed! We have to burn the sheets now!”
I glower at Alexander’s red cheeks and vacant eyes. “Motherfucker,” I growl. “You realize Logan would’ve had to ask Grace to overnight this? This is literal betrayal.”
“Next-level betrayal.”
We both stare at the doll, neither of us wanting to pick him up and move him. I know I’m the one who opened this grotesque Pandora’s Box when I bought Alexander for Jamie, but how many times do I have to apologize? Why do these sociopaths keep sending him back?
I grit my teeth. “I can’t fucking believe Logan would do this to us. And after we complimented his dick?”
My fiancée sighs. “We?”
“Oh, like you weren’t impressed too,” is my accusatory reply.
“Fine, I was,” Allie relents. She offers a shrug. “Mrs. Logan is a lucky woman.”
I nod in agreement. “A very lucky—” I stop abruptly. “Wait. What?”
