Page 3 of Father Knows Best (A Family Affair #1)

one

. . .

avery

The Blue Box

Current Day.

Bottega Veneta. Yves Saint Laurent. Chanel.

My fingers dust the velvet-lined hangers, making the designer gowns sway gently in my closet. Interior lights shine down, providing just enough glow over the garments to see the detail of each. All of them are black dresses, each with a unique difference.

The Bottega Veneta is a high-shine satin with a plunging neckline and a hem that puts my knees on full display. The Yves Saint Laurent dress dons a cowl neck and longer hem, made of viscose, which clings like second skin. The Chanel?—

“You stop the show in anything you wear, my darling.” His dominant voice floods the master bedroom, despite the fact I know he’s only standing in the doorway.

Turning, I find my boyfriend standing where I guessed, his hands shoved into his slacks, one mountainous shoulder pressed up against the doorframe, a multi-million dollar smirk lifting the corner of his full lips.

“The belted black shantung.” Despite knowing the way his arms feel looping my body, the warmth that trickles through my veins when I’m dwarfed by his powerful size, the scent of him after a long day of work–my body still excites as Sutton crosses the room and stops in front of me.

He collects my hands with his, dusting his lips along my knuckles.

“The Dior.” He graces my cheek with a soft kiss, and desire erupts beneath the flimsy satin of my thong.

Sutton ties my white satin dressing robe a bit tighter.

I wish he’d untie it and throw it to the floor, the satin dressing gown nothing but a victim of his lecherous desire for me. Hell, I wish Sutton would throw me onto the bed and say, “fuck the dress, fuck the dinner, I have to stay in and feast on you tonight.”

He runs the backs of his knuckles down my cheek. “The car is out front, whenever you’re ready.” Another tender kiss, this time on my lips. Sutton releases my hands and turns, pulling our bedroom door shut behind him as he leaves.

After finding the Dior dress he mentioned, I drape it over the bed and open my robe. The floor to ceiling mirror shows me what I knew I’d find. What I see every time my boyfriend touches me.

Red, excited, eager flesh.

My chest is bright, and my nipples are plucky, and there is already a spot inside my satin thong where the ruby has turned garnet, where my desire has bled through.

Reaching down, I can’t help but touch the dark spot on the satin, then delve beneath to dust my fingertips against the source.

Swollen and tender, if Sutton were here, with his hand in my panties, my robe open, nude body on display—it wouldn’t take much.

A stroke.

A flick.

A puff of his breath along my sensitive skin.

That’s all.

My phone dings on my dressing table, notifying me that the security camera motion sensor has turned on. Our car is here. We are headed to an important business dinner downtown, and Sutton does not like being late.

With my hair already styled in a classic low bun, my six-month-anniversary diamonds glittering on my ears, I step into the Dior and reach behind myself, dragging the zipper up. Slipping into my nude Follies Strass Louboutin pumps—Sutton’s favorite—I find my clutch and head down.

He’s scrolling his phone when I step off the elevator and appear in the lobby, ten paces from him as he pins the main entry door open with his hip. He always refuses the doorman.

“Ready,” I quietly announce myself. Sutton’s eyes lift from his screen, and he doesn’t bother locking his phone before he shoves it into his suit pocket and moves toward me, cradling his open jaw in one hand.

“Avery.” The way he says Avery, like I’m so cherished that even speaking my name must be done so with delicacy.

Sutton always makes me feel so adored, like a painted porcelain girl meant to be held with love and white gloves.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

As usual.” His arm snakes my waist, drawing me toward him.

I drape my hands over his chest. His hazel eyes capture mine, feathering naughty promises over me with just a look.

“But this dress—you’re a knockout, sweetheart. Truly.”

My heart races from his compliments. A year together and everything he says still ignites my bones and sets fire to my soul. My eyes burn from his adoration, and behind my ribs, my heart swells to five times its size.

“Thank you, Sutt.” I press up to my toes to kiss him, and further darken my panties as he makes that noise he sometimes makes—a low grumble in his belly, one that radiates through his chest, giving me a hint at the raw, carnal lover buried deep inside of him.

Sutton makes love like he does everything else.

Intense, but composed. And that noise he makes sometimes when I kiss him, or when I slide my hand over his thigh in the back of the town car after a long night out and too many whiskeys–I want to dive into that noise and drown myself in it, it’s so arousing.

Despite the fact that he’s mine, I’m often so starved for more of him that I feel outside myself.

He braces his hand at my lower back as he holds the door, and I slide in. He joins me in the backseat, and pulls the door closed.

“Larkin and California, downtown,” Sutton tells the driver, who nods his head before hitting the button, raising the partition.

The soft leather makes no noise as he turns, unbuckled in his seat, taking one of my hands with both of his.

“When you were at the office earlier, my father didn’t by chance mention tonight, did he? ”

Sutton was showing a property in the East Bay the majority of the day, which meant he was out of office.

Because I’ve been working on a large project for the last month, I was in the office in the planning phases.

Remembering our conference room lunch, I nod.

“He did.” I know what Sutton is asking. “He’s not bringing anyone. ”

Sutton nods, relaxing into the seat as our driver nudges us through downtown city traffic. “Good.”

“Just Chanel.” I smile when Sutton casts me his perfected irritated look.

“I don’t understand why he feels the need to include her in all Mercer Properties affairs,” he complains, reaching over my lap to fasten my seatbelt. He’s making sure I’m safe, and yet I wish he were reaching over to grab my knee beneath my dress and whisper something filthy to me before we arrive.

“Because she’s part of the Mercer team,” I remind him as he pops his cuffs.

“She’s disrespectful to you,” he says matter of fact, cutting me a deadeyed glare. “I don’t like her. And anyway, she should always stay at reception. That’s the literal point of a receptionist.”

I open my purse and root around for my Barely There lipstick, and pull it out. Sutton’s eyes follow the tube of color as I twist it and bring it to my lips, tracing them. The way he watches me makes my stomach flutter. “She wants to sleep with you.”

Suddenly his thigh is pressed to mine, and he’s holding my lipstick in his hands, rolling it down, capping it.

His breath, a touch of toothpaste and a hint of Black Label, warms the tip of my nose as he blinks down at me.

“Come on,” he says, eyes flashing with excitement despite his private tone.

“We’re here. Your lipstick looks perfect. You look perfect.”

I’d close my eyes for a kiss, but he reaches past me to push the door open, and the cool bay evening leaps into the cab of the town car. “Stay. I’ll come around,” he orders, before hopping out on his side and reappearing on mine.

Taking my hand, he weaves our fingers together, dragging me toward the expensive Japanese restaurant that boasts a room capacity of only ten people at a time. I’ve never been but wanted to come for ages—Geo says it’s the best omakase experience in the city.

The town car leaves us in front of the restaurant, which is made of glass windows, all of which are uncovered, leaving the dark, modern restaurant in clear view.

I glance up at the signage and the surrounding businesses. “I heard it’s not about exclusivity per se, but they designed this place as a test kitchen for a bigger restaurant down–” my words drop off of a cliff when I look to find Sutton on the ground.

On one knee.

Holding a little blue box.

“Oh my god.” My heart is racing and immediately, my presumptuous eyes get hazy and wet.

“Avery Bennett, I became obsessed with you the very first time I saw you. And I’ll admit, when I hired you, it was so that I could spend time with you.

But you were and are incredible at your job, and the more time I spent with you and around you, the more I fell head over heels in love.

And my obsession turned to the truest and deepest respect and love I’ve ever had for another person.

” He pauses to open the box, revealing a large diamond on a massive setting. “Will you be my wife?”

I nod my head, afraid that words will bring tears, and tears will blur my vision. Right now, I’m etching Sutton’s happy face into my memory, to recall whenever I want, for the rest of my life. He gets to his feet, pinching the ring from the box.

Our eyes lock. And my heart throbs at the way emotion pulls at his voice.

“Thank you for saying yes. Thank you for completing me. I love you. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”

He slips the ring down my finger, and takes my face in his hands, kissing me with a kiss that curls my toes in my pumps and has my body pulsing.

The front door opens, and Geo’s head pops out.

“You’re the last two,” he says to Sutton, his eyes sliding to me before everything else–the large rock on my finger, our tender embrace, the softness gracing Sutton’s usually strict features.

Geo blinks a few times, then looks up at his son, and for a moment, hurt passes through his steely expression.

The door swings shut as he looks between us in our moment.