Page 84 of Stick to the Deal
Elysium is up to over five thousand subscribers. They had to scramble to find additional printers and distributors to meet the demand. The second issue was just as successful, featuring Kenzo on the cover. It’s a hard-hitting interview too—not a fluff piece. The publication is earning its reputation as a tough but fair source of truth.
I couldn’t be prouder of him. More importantly, Reginald is proud of himself. There’s an air of contentment in him that was missing before—a sense of purpose.
“Daniel has it in hand. I hired those journalists so I wouldn’t have to do it all myself, remember?” I raise an eyebrow at him, knowing full well what a control freak my husband is. “Ok, I’ll probably check in while you’re still sleeping and give a review of the final copy.”
I laugh. “That’s fine. I brought my camera and you know how I get lost in the view sometimes. I’m not worried.” His lips are soft as I lean in for a kiss.
“I don’t mind—I love watching you work. We should do a book of your photos. I’m sure you’ll have enough for two after this trip.”
Between the exhibition, Elysium’s cover, and Kenzo’s album, my inbox has been overflowing with requests. More than I could hope to complete in a year. It’s given me the freedom to be picky about which jobs I take on, only agreeing to those that I believe in. My creative well has never felt fuller. Henri has been after me to do another collection. Why not a book too? We’ll see—nothing feels impossible.
Reginald reluctantly breaks the kiss as our meals arrive. “How’s Grandmama doing? Is she going to be alright while we’re away?”
The two have formed a strange bond since the hospital. He calls her every week to discuss books and hear her suggestions for philanthropic stories for Elysium. Reginald’s never really had maternal attention before, and he’s not wasting it now.
I asked her once if the resemblance still bothered her. She said Reginald was everything she wished his grandfather had been, and spending time with him reminds her of being young. “She rushed me off the phone because Foster was waiting for a game of backgammon, if you can believe it. I think they’ll be just fine.”
After the fallout at Silverbrook, Grandmama hired Reginald’s old friend. Officially, he’s a chauffeur and assistant, but he’s become more of a companion. He accompanies Grandmama to her doctor appointments, manages her schedule, and takes care of the bills. This has left Glo time to focus more onthe cooking—and also keeps Grandmama out of her hair so she can cook to the recommended diet plan. Foster has brought a much needed breath of fresh air into that old house.
The flight attendant returns, reaching for our half drank mimosas. “Sir, Ma’am, we’re preparing for takeoff. Please buckle your seat belts.”
I sigh as I settle back into the plush leather, admiring the mahogany trim throughout our new private plane. With the constant—and frequently unplanned—flights between London, New York, and Florida, we finally broke down and got one. “I should have bought one of these years ago.”
Reginald glares with that grumpy look I love so much. “If you had, we never would have met.”
“Mm, true.” I lean in, brushing my lips against his ever so slightly.
The pressure increases as Reginald leans in, slanting his head. His tongue slides across the seam of my mouth, seeking entry.
With a needy moan, I grant it. My fingers spear into his dark hair, nails scratching his scalp.
His throat vibrates with a groan. He turns towards me, hands seeking.
My breath catches with anticipation. I know in moments his weight will press onto me. He’ll whisper something filthy in my ear or a command.
His lips skim along my jaw, as if he heard my thoughts, and then…nothing.
“Fucking seat belt.”
Confused, I open my eyes to find Reginald jerking in his seat like a toddler in a highchair. Laughter wells up, until I’m doubled over, thankful for my own restraint keeping me in the chair.
“Laugh now, you won’t be amused when the seat belt sign is off.” He nuzzles the spot below my ear I love so much, the gentleness at war with the heat in his voice. “There’s a reason I picked the model with a bedroom, Princess. I’m going to have you screaming my name all the way to Oahu. You’ll be begging me as I bring you right to the edge with my mouth, over and over again.” I squirm in my seat, imagining everything he describes. “Then I’ll fuck you for hours. You’ll orgasm until your legs shake for days.”
His tongue traces the shell of my ear, distracting me. “But what about Diamondhead?”
“Do you actually want to hike a mountain?” he asks against my throat.
“Kind of…” What were we talking about? This man makes me lose my mind.
A chuckle reverberates through my hand on his chest. “Then I’ll just have to carry you, Princess.”
Ding, ding. Click. Clatter.
I blink through the haze of arousal and realize the seat belt light is off. Reginald has already unfastened his restraint and thrown the ends against the chair. His nimble fingers open my buckle and lift me in a bridal hold. Long legs haul us down the short distance to the rear bedroom, then kick the door shut behind him. He tosses me onto the bed, molten steel in his gaze as he prowls towards me.
It’s funny. Only a year ago, I was mourning the loss of my independence, cursing a marriage that I was sure meant the end of my life as I knew it. In some ways, it was. I no longer jet set across the globe alone, living out of suitcases. Stopping in Friendship Springs to soak up time with the girls, but staying on the edges of their lives. Dreading my obligated time with my grandmother.
This brilliant, loyal man has taught me the true definition of freedom: the ability to be myself unapologetically and live my best life. A life with him is so much more than I bargained for. I thank my lucky stars every day that I didn’t stick to the deal.