by Jade West
Devon Quentin was glazing over as his wife talked about clothes, attention fully on his dinner, but I was transfixed by the women, completely captivated by their exclamations.
“Elaine looks AMAZING in her dresses!” Francesca told me. “Every single one of them.”
“Marissa was so, so good,” Elaine said, putting the achievement on the stylist and not on the way she could look amazing in goddamn pig shit if she rolled in it.
Devon interjected at that point, putting down his fork on his plate.
“So the question is, when and where are you going to be showing these new dresses off?” he asked, then turned to Francesca. “Chessie, don’t we have the Songbirds in the Wind premiere on Saturday night?”
Francesca clapped. “Yes! We do! It’s going to be incredible! The musical is going to be fantastic! We’d love to have you along with us.”
Elaine looked at me, that innocence glowing in her, waiting for my reaction.
“It’s the West End,” Francesca added. “A perfect opportunity to show off one of your gowns.”
Holy fuck, how I’d love to have her on my arm at a West End London premiere. It would be the perfect opportunity for a showstopper. Elaine Constantine at my side, proud and shoulder to shoulder as we showed ourselves off to the world.
“Yes,” I answered, firmly. “We’d love to be along at the premiere. It sounds excellent, thank you.”
“Excellent indeed!” Devon said, and raised his whisky glass. “We’ll get you on the red carpet list.”
I could imagine the surprise on the paparazzi’s faces as we stepped on out from the limousine with the Quentins. It would be absolutely fucking glorious.
“Thank you,” Elaine said to them, her voice so sweet with gratitude. “Thanks so much, really.”
“You’re very welcome,” Francesca replied, and she meant it. They’d be really damn pleased to have us at their side at the public outing, of that I was sure.
Elaine’s fingers were so delicate as they sought out mine under the table. I squeezed hers right back, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. God, I fucking loved her.
The rest of the conversation over dinner was flowing and easy, the companionship of this couple something I hadn’t experienced all that much in my life. It felt surprisingly like a friendship, not a business partnership finding its ruthless feet. It was something I wasn’t all that well acquainted with, but I was liking it. Enjoying it.
Maybe I was actually capable of forming genuine friendships. Besides Hunter Sparro back home, I didn’t have all that many people I held true affection for. My life was certainly taking some very strange turns of late, maybe this would be another to add to the collection.
The four of us ate dessert together, another fine presentation from the chef. Mixed berry tart, with raspberries and plums.
I was truly done with eating when I dabbed my mouth with my napkin and reclined back in my chair, my interest in the conversation on British politics drawing to a close.
All I wanted was to get that girl of mine upstairs to our bedroom.
When Devon threw down his own napkin and shot a hungry look at Francesca, it was obvious he was wanting to get her on up to theirs too.
“I’ve had a lovely dinner with you both,” he said to us, clearly drawing a close to the evening.
I gave him a nod and a smirk. “Very much reciprocated.”
“Fantastic,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll be having many more.”
Francesca hugged and air kissed Elaine with real affection before we all headed back through to the hall together. They disappeared off on their way with a wave and a goodnight and Elaine and I were left at the staircase up to our wing, waving them off right back.
And then it was us.
Alone.
One look from me had her taking in a breath, and she was as desperate as I was when I grabbed her tight and kissed her hard, tasting mixed berries and lipstick. We headed upstairs and along the landing, a tangle of limbs and kisses, flesh seeking flesh.
We stumbled through our bedroom door but I didn’t throw her down onto the bed. Instead I backed off her, leaving her gasping, lips puffy and lipstick smeared.
“Twirl for me,” I told her, and it was a command.
She looked surprisingly nervous as she did as she was instructed, doing a ballerina twist nice and slowly.
The silver satin of her dress was a shimmer, enough to make me heady. Her hair was alive with sparkles under the light.
“You set me on fucking fire, you know that?” I asked her, and she looked so flattered it was untrue. It was insane, just how beautiful that woman was and yet she still felt flattered by my words.
“You set me on fire to match, you know that?” she asked, and there was that sweet sassiness in her I adored.
My next instruction felt like a crime, but I couldn’t hold back. No matter how much I was enjoying the beauty of that dress on her, I’d be enjoying the beauty of her flesh underneath it so much more.
“Strip for me,” I said. “Nice and slowly.”
Once again, she did as she was told.
She let the straps of the dress fall from her shoulders and did another spin. Slowly.
There were the bite marks I’d left on her the night before, appearing perfectly from beneath the fabric.
I loved seeing her marked like that. Owned like that. Hurt like that, by me.
If anyone else ever hurt her in any way again, I’d skin them alive, but to see my own brutality etched into her was nothing short of filthy magic.
My dick was so hard it was fucking painful in my pants when I closed the distance between us. Her dress dropped to the floor around her feet, and she was wearing white lace panties, so fucking pretty. I tugged them down and dropped to my knees along with them, and there was her wet pussy, freshly waxed and begging for my tongue.
She gasped as I pressed my mouth to her slit, wrapping my arms around her thighs to spread them wider.
Still, the insanity of this new world was a shock to me.
I was on my knees.
A Morelli on their knees before a Constantine.
Lucian Morelli on his knees before Elaine Constantine.
Who’d have ever thought it would be the greatest feeling in the world?
23
Elaine
Waking up with a sore pussy was something I could happily get used to. I don’t know what time we eventually fell asleep, but it was late. Lucian had played with me for hours, only giving me his cum when I was so used up I couldn’t come for him anymore.
I reached out for my lover by my side, eager to snuggle in, but he wasn’t there. I jolted, looking around the room for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
There was only a note on the bedside table.
See you later, princess.
Of course he’d gone. He was Lucian Morelli. He’d probably been signing deals for his new empire since six in the morning, regardless of what time we went to bed. It made me smile to myself. He was truly back to him again. Only I wasn’t back to me. I wasn’t the old Elaine Constantine hiding behind drink and parties and feeling ashamed of herself behind a sheen of glamor. I was someone else. A new Elaine with all the positives of my old self with a whole host of new ones.
And that was all thanks to the man I once believed to be a monster.
I reached for my cell from the bedside table and there was a message waiting for me. Tristan. The only one besides Lucian with my number.
His words were simple.
Call me when you get this. URGENT!!
I checked out the time. 10 a.m. It would be 5 a.m. back home. I weighed it up, but the instruction was clear. There was that little instinctive feeling of worry that couldn’t be shaken off. My finger pressed the call button and I waited for it to connect, telling myself I’d give him just a few seconds to pick up, in case he was sleeping, but he wasn’t. He answered in a beat.
“Lainey, thank fuck you called. You’re all over the news here in a whole
other way.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
“What other way?” I asked him. “Are they still looking for Terence Kingsley?”
“No,” he said. “They aren’t still looking for Terence Kingsley, they’re looking for Lucian Morelli, and gossip channels are saying he’s in the UK with you, and you are a fucking couple.”
For once the gossip channels were surprisingly accurate. Made a change. Still, the thought that people were talking about it, realizing it, gossiping about it… our families would be realizing it, too. Shit!
“They’ll be coming after you, you know that,” Tristan said, stating the obvious. “You know that. They’ll be coming after you damn quick.”
“Yeah, I do know that,” I said. “We both do. Me and Lucian.”
“You gonna run again, then?” he asked me. “Get the hell out of London whatever you do. That’s where the rumors say you are.”
I bit my lip before I answered, registering just how brazen our plans were to step out together over here and let the world know we belonged together.
“You are going to run, right?” Tristan asked.
“No,” I told him. “We’re not. We’re going to a West End show together this weekend.”
He took a breath. He actually sucked in a breath. “Are you both out of your fucking minds?! You know they’ll come for you!”
Yes, I knew that, but I also had faith in Lucian, and how strong he was in forging our new life here and making it secure. I didn’t even try telling Tristan that, because his faith in the monster who knocked him unconscious wasn’t likely to be all that high.
“We’ll be alright,” I said. “We have plans.”
“Don’t do this, Lainey. Please, don’t do this. They’ll try to kill you. Run away!”
I sounded weirdly self-assured when I answered, with a strength in my tone I didn’t expect to hear. “I don’t want to run away,” I told him. “I want to stand by Lucian, proud to be a couple. They can come for us if they like, but I’m going to be alongside him, in the spotlight for everyone to see.”
“Then you’re fucking insane. Call me when you come to your damn senses,” he said, and hung up.
Tristan had never once hung up on me in all the years I’d known him. I’d lost my damn senses plenty of damn times throughout our friendship, but never enough to wind him up enough to end a call.
Maybe I really was insane. Maybe both Lucian and I were. Maybe we were so blinded by our love for each other that we wanted nothing more than to show that off to the world rather than accept that it might get us killed. I just hoped the gossips wouldn’t find out where we were headed on the weekend. The last thing I wanted was to be shot dead on the first red carpet we stepped onto.
I headed down to see Francesca after I’d showered and dressed, loving life in a decent pair of jeans that actually fit me. She was all smiles as we sat down to breakfast together, telling me all over again just how good my outfit choices were yesterday.
I saw genuine friendship in her eyes and craved more of that, trusting fate enough to have put a genuine friend in my path in this new world.
She clearly wasn’t expecting me to share my truth with her, not over her breakfast cereal. She nearly spilled the milk she was pouring onto her cornflakes when I looked her right in the eyes and said the words.
“Our families are probably going to try to kill us when they find out we’re here together. I just hope it’s not in the West End on Saturday night.”
She stared over at me for a few seconds before she responded. “Well, yes, I, um… I have heard plenty of stories about the rivalry between the Morellis and the Constantines.”
“Rivalry enough that they would want to wipe us out rather than see us together,” I admitted.
“But surely they won’t be able to?” she asked me. “Not when you’re publicly declared as together and the whole world knows about it. Wouldn’t that point all the fingers directly at them?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know they’re going to try. Once we’re established in public and everyone is getting used to it, then maybe they won’t risk it, not without people speculating it was them with a grudge, but straight up that won’t mean anything to them. They’ll be too damn angry at being betrayed.”
“That’s what Devon said. He said the first round of revelations in public will be intense. Likely on both sides of the Atlantic. He said that’s why it’s been so important to get Lucian’s signature on so many deals and partnerships and so much set in stone.”
“Did he say he thinks we’ll get ourselves killed?” I dared to ask.
She poised her spoon on the way to her mouth, clearly taken aback. “He, um… he said there might be some… difficulties.”
I held her stare. “He thinks we’ll get ourselves killed, right?”
“He thinks it might be dangerous for a while, but he doesn’t think the West End will be the venue to wipe you out. He thinks the whole world is going to be cheering and flashing cameras and screaming it all over the globe.”
The idea of that still gave me excited tingles. I so much wanted to be in front of flashing cameras along with Lucian. I wanted people to be screaming it all over the globe.
I poured milk over my own cereal, managing a much easier smile as I shifted our chat onto much easier ground.
“So, tell me some more about Songbirds in the Wind,” I said.
She bought into the change of conversation, giving me a much easier smile herself. “It’s most certainly going to be a good one,” she said.
By the time she finished talking, I had no doubt about that.
I only hoped we’d survive it.
24
Lucian
We had just a few days before the paparazzi would go insane. Just a few days before our presence would be known around the globe. I’d already seen the gossip columns. I knew the rumors were flying and I knew that our course ahead was clear. Me and her, standing strong.
I needed to be ready for it.
My web of connections here on UK soil was sealed in stone, secure and invested. Devon Quentin was at the head of a network that would keep Elaine and me at the heart of an empire. This was our place now. This was our life now.
She was my life now. Forever.
In between meetings I’d already started seeking out our own manor. We’d have our own palace very soon.
As well as setting up the Morelli-Constantine Manor, I was going to demonstrate my love for Elaine in the most spectacular of ways, and had already started on the arrangements, but first of all I had a much more pressing engagement to be putting my attention into.
“Are you sure this is a sound idea?” Quentin asked on the limo ride back to the manor. “The West End will be a fantastic venue to strut around in your first public appearance, but it will be… dramatic.”
“Are you trying to back out of the invitation to have us included on the VIP list like a pussy?” I asked him with a smirk on my face.
He rolled his eyes at me. “No, of course not, Morelli. I’m no pussy. I’m just well aware it will cause some controversy overseas.”
“Not as well aware as I am,” I replied. “I’m very well aware it will cause some controversy.”
He’d been looking into US gossip news too, I could see it. It was probably being whispered about behind every closed door in his corporate HQ. Morelli and Constantine, shhh. He was probably shitting his pants that he’d be caught up in the crossfire if my family opted to take us out on the red carpet that weekend.
“Fine, then,” he said. “If you’re signing your own death warrant, that’s your call.”
I’d been weighing that up myself, and I was undoubtedly signing my own death warrant. Whether they’d come for us outside a London West End theater was a different matter. I didn’t think even my family or Elaine’s would be quite so dumb as to take us out so blatantly in public. Still, I could be surprised. They could try.
Hopefully they wouldn’t. Ho
pefully both sides of the battlefield would realize that we weren’t just escapees on the run looking for an easy life anymore, we were standing proud and firm, ready for the fight.
At least, I was. I’d fight with flying axes and fists and machine guns happily enough all day long, but my Elaine was a beautiful little darling who deserved protection from every flying fist on the planet. I’d give everything to give her that protection.
We were approaching the driveway when Quentin’s cell buzzed. His eyes went straight to mine once he’d read the message.
“Those things you wanted,” he said, clearly aware of the driver’s ears in the front seat.
“Yes?” I prompted, knowing full well what things he was referring to.
“They’ll be ready soon,” he told me. “Sunday evening most likely. They’ll be delivered by nightfall.”
I was pleased. Very fucking pleased.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
My tiredness was catching up with me as we left the limo on the drive and stepped back into the manor. I’d barely slept the night before, but my senses were on high alert as Elaine came charging on down the hallway, flinging herself into my arms.
“Welcome home, baby,” she whispered, peppering my cheeks with kisses.
Home.
Yet another use of the word out of the blue. I couldn’t wait to see her exclamation when she saw the home of our own. It appeared the impetus to move out of Quentin Manor wouldn’t be coming from the Quentins anytime soon, though. Both Francesca and Devon looked very enthusiastic when the housekeeper approached us about dinner that evening, asking us what time we’d be sitting down to eat.
“What time works for you?” Devon asked, looking at me, but I looked at Elaine, in her hot new day clothes, her time more valuable to me than mine.
