Page 19
Story: With this Ring
Since there was nothing else to be done here, he headed back upstairs and outside onto the patio.
Zeph’s crew was ready with a stage and impressive backdrop.
Tall, round tables had been draped in white, and caterers had even added candles. Battery-operated, it appeared.
Ten minutes before seven, he lit the firepits and gas heaters.
Then the first guests arrived.
Within an hour, the place was filling up.
Zeph took the stage, glimmering in the spotlight.
Along with a couple of House Monitors, Gregorio kept an eye on the action in the private rooms, and he stopped to answer questions from a couple who were new to the club.
Back upstairs in command central, Damien was nowhere to be seen, so Gregorio scanned the monitors.
The bus carrying Master Niles and Brandy, along with the first timers who’d met in Winter Park, lumbered through the entrance.
Since two people were at the check-in desk, his help wasn’t needed—at least not right away.
One guest paused at the entrance.
Others were paired up, chatting, but she was alone, and she looked around, scanning her surroundings before glancing overhead.
She looked straight into a camera at him, her shockingly emerald-colored eyes wide and unblinking.
No one else had eyes that color.
Sasha.
Petal.
My Petal.
The only woman on the planet off limits to him.
The one woman who haunted his nights.
Playing with her that night at Leah and Jon’s wedding had been the biggest mistake of his life.
Forbidden fruit.
Once he’d skimmed his work-calloused fingers over her silky skin, tasted her desire, inhaled the jasmine-scented promise of hope, listened to her tiny whimpers as she begged for him…
He’d fucking become obsessed.
To protect her—and save himself—he’d had to walk away. And stay away.
Otherwise he’d have yielded to his baser nature and claimed her forever.
Gregorio knew one thing for certain. Sasha was too good of a person for someone like him.
He’d killed without compunction—recently, even—and considered it a good night’s work.
And that night at the wedding, he’d taught Tristan a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. Pretty boy would be minding his manners around Petal in the future.
Before he’d walked off, Gregorio had suggested the man catch a ride to the emergency room since he wasn’t fit to drive himself.
Zeph’s crew was ready with a stage and impressive backdrop.
Tall, round tables had been draped in white, and caterers had even added candles. Battery-operated, it appeared.
Ten minutes before seven, he lit the firepits and gas heaters.
Then the first guests arrived.
Within an hour, the place was filling up.
Zeph took the stage, glimmering in the spotlight.
Along with a couple of House Monitors, Gregorio kept an eye on the action in the private rooms, and he stopped to answer questions from a couple who were new to the club.
Back upstairs in command central, Damien was nowhere to be seen, so Gregorio scanned the monitors.
The bus carrying Master Niles and Brandy, along with the first timers who’d met in Winter Park, lumbered through the entrance.
Since two people were at the check-in desk, his help wasn’t needed—at least not right away.
One guest paused at the entrance.
Others were paired up, chatting, but she was alone, and she looked around, scanning her surroundings before glancing overhead.
She looked straight into a camera at him, her shockingly emerald-colored eyes wide and unblinking.
No one else had eyes that color.
Sasha.
Petal.
My Petal.
The only woman on the planet off limits to him.
The one woman who haunted his nights.
Playing with her that night at Leah and Jon’s wedding had been the biggest mistake of his life.
Forbidden fruit.
Once he’d skimmed his work-calloused fingers over her silky skin, tasted her desire, inhaled the jasmine-scented promise of hope, listened to her tiny whimpers as she begged for him…
He’d fucking become obsessed.
To protect her—and save himself—he’d had to walk away. And stay away.
Otherwise he’d have yielded to his baser nature and claimed her forever.
Gregorio knew one thing for certain. Sasha was too good of a person for someone like him.
He’d killed without compunction—recently, even—and considered it a good night’s work.
And that night at the wedding, he’d taught Tristan a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. Pretty boy would be minding his manners around Petal in the future.
Before he’d walked off, Gregorio had suggested the man catch a ride to the emergency room since he wasn’t fit to drive himself.
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