Page 67

Smiling, I carry into the master bedroom two plates Jarvis procured from the kitchens of O’Hare’s, the eponymous restaurant opened by renowned chef, Jefferson O’Hare, who is known for his artistry in the American fare—perfectly cooked steaks, ribs, burgers, and…hot dogs.

My beautiful darling is sprawled face down on blankets and thousand-thread-count bedsheets, her thick chocolate hair a tangled mess on the pillow, her skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, and her smooth, round backside partially displayed.

My cock twitches in my sweatpants as I take in those luscious globes, pink palm prints on the side, courtesy of me as I gripped her and contorted her lithe little body into a thousand different positions the last few days where we washed off the pain and heartache in love and pleasure.

So much fucking love and pleasure.

We barely left the suite the entire weekend after the revelation, and I regained her after I almost lost her. The last few days breathed life back into my body.

Suddenly, my world is filled with color once again, and everything seems sharper than before—the warm sunlight streaming in from the windows after Grace pulled back the thick curtains to let in some much-needed light into the dark space.

The apartment smells of an intoxicating mix of jasmine and leather, our scents intertwined like they belonged together all along.

The carpet feels soft against my bare feet and my body is filled with bone-curling warmth.

I feel alive for the first time in almost thirty years .

I feel enough.

Setting the plates on the nightstand, I chuckle under my breath as Grace stirs awake after another bout of sex.

This time, I edged her five times before I gave her an orgasm and she spewed out a thousand expletives in the process.

Our clothes litter the floor, books and papers scattered all over the place as we fucked on every available surface, but I don’t feel the urge to clean, to organize, to put everything in its proper place.

I just want to spend every waking minute with her next to me, teasing out her smiles, making her come against my fingers, my mouth, my cock, having whole-hearted discussions with her about everything from finances to why penguins are monogamous.

And apparently…eating hot dogs.

As much as she loves the fine dining I’ve taken her to before, she’s still hung up on the Central Park hot dog we had almost a year ago. She claims it was a fluke that we got a stale hot dog from the wrong vendor that day, because a good street dog is a New York City staple and classic.

“Steven.” She doles out a lazy smile as she stretches her arms over her head and sits up against the tufted headboard. She winces as she adjusts into position.

My eyes drift to her full tits peeking out of the covers and my cock twitches again. I’m fucking insatiable for her.

She notices my perusal and narrows her eyes. “We haven’t gotten out of bed this entire weekend, Steven. This is getting ridiculous.” She pretends to glare at me, but her lips curve up and an endearing pink flush crawls up her neck, settling on her face.

Laughing softly, I climb into bed with her and lean over, pressing a soft kiss on her plump lips and she melts against me as she always does. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She moans as I press down, letting her feel my hard cock over her pussy. She winces again and I ease off her. “Did I make you too sore, darling?”

“You beast.”

“ Your beast. ”

We smile at each other and she bites on the plump bottom lip, a teasing glint appearing in her eyes.

My heart can burst from all the heat and love inside me, an emotion I apparently have bottled up so long I didn’t know it was there and now that it’s been uncorked, I can’t stem my feelings any more than I can stem my need for her.

“I got you proper hot dogs.” I wink, pointing to our perfectly plated gourmet hot dogs.

“The one on the left is Jefferson’s famous umami hot dog.

It’s one hundred percent Angus beef and has caramelized onions, roasted seaweed, sesame mayonnaise.

The one on the right is his interpretation of the Manhattan Street Dog, and has the Angus beef sausage, honey Dijon mustard, homemade ketchup, spiced relish, and caramelized onions. ”

She grins, her brows arched high on her forehead. “We’ll see about that. Sometimes the simpler the food, the better they taste.”

I bite back a smile as I put our plates in front of us and we dig in. She makes a cute moaning sound that makes my blood heat and I smirk. “Good, right?”

She nudges me and purses her lips. “You may be on to something here. I hate to admit it, but I may actually be wrong in this case.”

I laugh, the sound echoing in the spacious room, and she stares at me with those beautiful gemstone eyes. She whispers, “I love that sound from your lips.”

My face softens, and I dip my forehead against hers. “You gave me that gift. The gift of happiness. I’ll spend the rest of my life repaying you.”

Grace flushes as she ducks her face and returns her attention back to her food.

Suddenly, a tension fills her tiny frame, almost imperceptible, but I know her better than anyone else. A small twinge—a phantom ache—enters my chest. Perhaps after everything, our souls are indeed connected now because I know exactly what she’s thinking.

“You’re thinking about your father?”

She nods. “I’m scared about our meeting tomorrow. ”

Heaving out a sigh, I nod. “I’m the same way about my family.”

Father called me the night we heard the truth from Emerson.

After resting and taking it easy, he was given the all clear to go home.

He told me Grace isn’t my sister, and I misunderstood him, but he’ll explain to us in person.

Jess and Emily somehow rounded up the entire family last night and are now flying over in Adrian’s private jet.

They’re probably due to arrive at any minute and we’ll be meeting at The Menagerie within the building for afternoon drinks and a much overdue talk.

It’s time to air out all the secrets, reveal all our scars, so we can put the past in the past and move on, because there are so many beautiful things waiting for us in the future now that I have Grace by my side.

“I’ll be with you, Steven.”

I smile and clasp her hand in mine, giving it a soft squeeze. “And I’ll be a phone call away, but you have my support with you always.”

Grace told me she wanted to talk to her father in private, just the two of them, before meeting her siblings, and I respect that.

She glances at me and leans her head against my shoulders. “We’ll be fine. Things will work out the way they should.”

“Yes. And if they don’t, I’ll be here because we’re a team.”

Cracking the stiff joints in my neck, I clasp Grace’s hand tightly in mine as we stroll into The Menagerie, an intimate wine and cocktail lounge within The Orchid.

It’s one of their hidden gems, which Sarah, Jack’s girlfriend, once mentioned in passing.

Emily made the reservations before they left LA.

She said, “This is in between a coffee and a full-on meal, since this conversation is more serious than a passing hello or idle pleasantries and I don’t want you two to suffer through a few hours of stilted silence of a meal if things go south.”

I bite back a grin as I think of my energetic sister, who has had her wars with our parents before she got to her happily-ever-after with Adrian .

“Wow, this place is beautiful. I didn’t know it was here,” Grace marvels as she takes in the elegantly decorated lounge, with its dark green and gold wallpaper of hand painted foliage and vines and glittering pendant lights shaped like twigs and tree branches, a nod to nature.

I tug her past the sunken velvet setting, where only one of the ten tables is currently occupied by patrons quietly enjoying a peaceful moment in one of the busiest cities in the world.

My eyes skim my reflection as we pass by a wall of gold-trimmed mirrors.

My hair is brushed and styled, jaw freshly shaven.

I look normal in my navy suit with a white dress shirt and maroon tie.

But even from a passing glance, I see the sharpness in my eyes, a brightness not there before.

I know I can only attribute the change to the beautiful woman next to me, Grace.

“There are a lot of hidden gems and nooks and crannies in The Orchid. It’s almost like a city within a building,” I murmur.

She looks breathtakingly radiant in a lavender wrap dress, which brings out her eyes and clings to her beautiful curves. Her hair is fashioned into some sort of updo, with wispy strands framing her face.

My queen.

We stop in front of one of the private rooms and she whispers, “You got this, Steven. Whatever happens, it’s us against the world.”

A burst of warmth hits my chest and I push open the door, finding the serious faces of my parents and the casual bearings of my siblings and their husbands already seated around a table, quietly chatting.

The conversation pauses as they take in our arrival. Mother looks regal, her hair swept up and pristine as always. Father appears shocked as his piercing gaze pins on Grace, his lips parted open in a soundless gasp.

James sits ramrod straight, his gaze sweeping over my face as if to check if I’m okay. I give him a nod as I turn my attention to his wife, my oldest sister Jess, who gives me a warm smile.

I clear my throat. “Where are Violet and Lucas?” My niece and nephew are the cutest little creatures in the world .

“They’re with my parents. They’re visiting,” James answers as Grace and I take a seat next to Emily and Adrian.

Emily doles out an impish smile. She wiggles her brows as if to tell me, I got this as Adrian curls his arm around his wife and cocks his brow at me, a look I can only describe as sympathy because I knew he went through his own share of hell with my parents.