Page 62 of Resisting the Temptation (Broken Shelves #3)

Emma

Six Months Later…

T he past six months have been a whirlwind of work, holidays, date nights, and sex.

Around Christmas, I started spending some weeknights with Ben.

Now, half of my clothes are at his place, along with another set of toiletries so I don’t have to keep toting them to and from work.

I know he’s waiting for the right time to ask me to move in, and I know Jordan is probably itching to ask Moss to move in with them.

They’re still denying their feelings, but I see the sparks between them.

On days I don’t sleep at Ben’s house, he picks me up and takes me to work, and on the weekends, we spend our time playing.

We go to the club at least twice a month because Ben likes to show me off, but I much prefer our free use weekends where Ben likes to fuck me when I’m in the middle of cooking or doing laundry.

We even had a risky encounter in a grocery store where he dragged me into the family bathroom and fucked my face until he came down my throat.

The first time we ran into Drew at the club, things were awkward at work for a bit, but we’ve all seemed to come to an agreement that we don’t talk about the club or what we do there.

Things at work have picked up with the start of Derek’s project, so Ben and I don’t get as much time together as we did before.

I love my job. I love watching the progress and knowing it’s my knowledge helping the project get built. I love that the foremen come to me to ask questions about materials or plans. I’m starting to learn Spanish so I can better communicate with members of our crew, but it’s slow going.

My parents have been calling every month to try to guilt me into breaking up with Ben for the “issues” he’s caused.

They’ve claimed he’s brainwashed me into cutting off my family and convinced me they’re a problem when really he’s the problem.

They still think he’s just using me or I’m using him to get my job.

They don’t understand he’s far from a problem.

He’s finally helped me realize I don’t deserve to be treated the way they’ve treated me.

He’s shown me how I should be loved. I still break down in tears after every call, but Ben’s always there to reassure me he’s not going anywhere.

That he loves me and I don’t have to go through this alone.

Tonight, Ben and I are going to another gala, this time for a big retail developer Rossi built a strip mall for in the past .

Ben grumbled when I told him about it, but agreed to go after I told him he could pick out my dress.

It’s a win for both of us because I don’t have to make decisions, and he takes pride in knowing he got a say in dressing me up.

He’s picked out a lovely mauve floral print dress with long balloon sleeves and a top that resembles a corset. The skirt drapes from my hips in flowy chiffon with a slit up the side, which shows a peek of my garter tattoos when I walk—something I’ve learned he loves to see.

I walk out of the bedroom in search of my favorite gold heels when I find Ben in his black-on-black suit sitting on the couch with three boxes of varying sizes next to him and my heels in his hand.

God, he looks delicious. But my focus is on the boxes. Did he get me presents?

“You look incredible, Dulzura. Come sit, and I’ll put your shoes on for you.”

I follow his order, sitting on the couch and watching as he kneels before me and delicately slips the heels on, buckling the clasp around my ankle.

“I have some gifts for you,” he says, picking up the smallest box.

I open it to find a gold key on a pink heart keychain.

“Move in with me.”

“I-I can’t leave Jordan without a roommate,” I protest half-heartedly.

“Jordan already has a roommate lined up. You’re already half moved in, honey. I want you here all the time. You can change anything you want to make this place feel like home to you, but I don’t want to spend any more nights apart. I need to see you every minute of every day.”

Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them away. “Okay. I’ll move in with you.”

Ben’s smile is radiant. He’s been smiling a lot more lately, and he’s even started asking our crew members more personal questions. I can see how hard it is for him to open up, but I love that he’s trying for me.

He hands me the largest box, and I nearly drop it when I open it.

“Is this—”

“A collar? Yes.” Ben pulls out the hot pink leather necklace with two gold chains attached. I’ve seen one similar to this online. The chain is on a pulley system so it can be pulled tight across the throat.

“B-but isn’t it too soon?” I whisper in disbelief.

Ben shakes his head. “I’ve been waiting years for you, Emma.

There’s no one else I’d want to wear my collar.

This one is only for at home or if we’re going to the club.

This one…” He grabs the third box and opens it to reveal a delicate gold chain with a “B” engraved on the tiny heart pendant. “This one is for every day.”

“It’s—they’re beautiful, Ben. But are you really sure?”

“I’ve only ever been more sure of one other thing, honey. Can I put this collar on you? Please?”

I want to ask what he means, but I’m at a loss for words. I nod, and a single tear falls over my lash line.

“I need your words, Emma.”

“Yes, I’d be honored to wear your collar, Ben. Thank you.”

Ben clasps the gold chain around my neck, nestling the pendant right between my collar bones .

“Stunning,” he whispers, wiping away another tear and placing a gentle kiss on my lips. “Now, about the only thing I’ve been more sure of.” He kneels back down—this time on only one knee—and my heart stutters in my chest.

Is he...

He pulls something out of his pocket, and it takes me a minute to register what I’m seeing. A bright pink marquise shaped stone surrounded by tiny white diamond details. It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.

“Emma Lucille Price, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone else my entire life.

I was living in darkness until you brought your sunshine in and showed me what I never knew was missing.

We may have had a rocky start, but I’ll forever be grateful our paths crossed.

You’ve already agreed to wear my collar, but will you agree to wear my ring and take my last name? Will you marry me, Emma?”

“Yes.” I nod frantically. “Yes, yes yes.”

Ben blows out a breath of relief as he slides the ring on my finger, scoops me up, and sits down on the couch with me on his lap. He presses a frantic kiss to my mouth, holding me close to him.

“I was so worried this wouldn’t be grand enough for you. I was going to do it at the gala, or take you back to Utah, but I—”

I cut him off with a kiss. “This was perfect. I don’t need a big grand proposal. I just need you.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your makeup,” he whispers, gently wiping away some smudged mascara.

“It’s okay. Do I have time to fix it? ”

“Yes. We can be fashionably late. Or we can skip it all together and stay here and celebrate,” he murmurs, nipping at my throat.

“We can’t skip it! I need to show off my favorite new accessories. Your parents are probably dying to know how your proposal went.”

“They… didn’t know I was planning on proposing.” Ben winces.

“Oh, they’re going to be so mad. Camila is going to curse you out for not telling her.”

“I know, I know. Fine, we’ll go. But prepare for Mamà to ask you a bazillion questions about the wedding even though we don’t have any set plans.”

“I can’t wait.”

Camila screamed when I showed her the ring, then promptly swatted Ben behind the head and started speaking rapidly in Spanish to him. His face flushed with embarrassment at whatever she was saying, looking at Enzo for backup, but Enzo just held up his hands like “what can I do?”

As Ben predicted, Camila spent the majority of the dinner portion asking me questions about color schemes, flower arrangements, catering, and decorations. She’s already planning a day for us, Cici, and Jordan, to go shopping for wedding dresses.

I know I’m going to have to tell my parents I’m getting married, and while a part of me hopes they’ll set aside their biases to come support me, I won’t let them ruin my special day with their racist ideologies and conservative views.

I’d rather have a happy day with the family I’ve found than a day stressing that my parents aren’t going to approve.

By the end of the gala, my social battery is so drained I nearly fall asleep on the way home.

Home.

That’s what Ben’s place is now. I don’t need to change anything about it—okay, maybe it needs a few more splashes of color, and his kitchen definitely needs to be reorganized—to make it feel like home. We could be living in a studio apartment or a mansion.

All I need to feel at home is Benjamin Lorenzo Rossi.