by S. L. Scott
The door opens, and Ethan comes in with Bennett. I note the click of the latch as the door closes while they sit across from me. “It was a good party,” Ethan says.
Putting my feet back down, I reply, “It was.”
Bennett says, “So this is it.” Not a question. An understanding.
“Seems so.”
Ethan stands and walks to the window, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Are you ready for the next step?”
“Definitely.”
“No fears?”
“None,” I reply, pushing up and grabbing my phone. “What do I have to be afraid of?”
That earns me a laugh. Bennett stands and holds out his hand, not in a handshake but a team huddle. Ethan and I put our hands in. Looking at my brothers, I say, “I wouldn’t be here without you.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Ethan adds.
“This would never have been possible without you, Ben.”
He’s usually the jokester between us, but he struggles to take credit for the important stuff. Like today. Ethan says, “No matter what happens after today, we’re Everests. Always.”
“Everests,” Ben and I repeat. “Always.”
Six months later
This flight is too long.
I’m anxious to see Ally. Two weeks . . . I know that’s the real problem. Her responsibilities have her living thousands of miles away from me while plans are put in place. No more, though.
Living a night without her next to me is rough, but fourteen has been torture. Singer, Ethan, and Bennett look perfectly content chatting and reading magazines, working, and passing the time as if my whole world isn’t about to change.
I’m a fucking palms-sweating mess. It’s not every day you attend a coronation or play a part in one.
Our plane lands and parks in an airfield of private jets that have traveled from around the world for this grand event. It’s not every day a queen is crowned.
I carry my worries for Ally with me as we travel to the palace. Our conversations have been short and sweet when I’ve wanted long and on the sexual side. Even with the lonely nights, it’s her I miss—her light, her enthusiasm for this life she’s chosen, her love. My bed’s too big without her in it. Hell, I’d take a twin with her over a king-sized and being alone.
The door is opened, and my beauty, my Ally, comes running down the steps and straight into my arms. Legs wrap around my middle. Arms around my neck. My face—eyes, nose, lips, and cheeks—are smothered in her kisses. “I guess you missed me.”
“I did.” She leans back and looks me in the eyes. There’s a lightness inside those clear blues that was missing for a time. It’s good to see the clouds have gone away. “I’m so happy you’re here. Want to have sex?”
“Shameless and so fucking hot.”
She shrugs. “What can I say? I missed you.”
I carry her up the steps because I’m pretty shameless too when it comes to showing off my woman and staking my claim to her. I set her down in the entry hall.
Singer oohs, ahhs, and then says, “This place is spectacular. It easily rivals Versailles.”
With a little flash of bitterness, Ally says, “Well, they did steal a few of our architectural designs.”
Feisty.
It’s good to have her back.
Up ahead, I spy the library. “I’ll be right back.” I have to make it quick, but it’s time to make this wrong right. I round the corner and start pulling the classic tomes. Even if these aren’t of his time, the collection is old enough to not be shelved in modern prose. I mean, what the fuck is up with that? I carry five of Shakespeare’s books across the room and climb the ladder. Shuffling some of the other old editions of authors I’ve never heard of, I make room for the small but important collection.
“Feel better?”
Busted. A book flies from my hands and lands with a thud on the floor. Looking over my shoulder at Ally, I nod. “Yes, I do.”
She picks up the book and climbs the ladder beneath me to hand it up. I shelve it, and we climb down. She says, “I’ve wanted to do that my whole life.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Shrugging, she says, “I never thought I could.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Bad choice of words. I didn’t think I could without getting in trouble. Nothing here ever felt like mine, except my room.”
“And now?”
“Now it doesn’t matter.”
Good girl. I kiss her head, and then we return to the others.
As Bennett looks between Ethan, Singer, Ally and me, he says, “I feel like a fifth wheel.”
“Gear is here,” I offer.
“Yay . . . not. Any hot singles around here, Al?”
Ally replies, “Actually quite a few. And don’t forget, there’s always Sabine Rosalie.”
“She’s perfect for Gear.”
Ally laughs. “I can introduce them.”
“My girl’s got jokes,” I say. “And when you see him, tell him he owes me a round of drinks. I’m ready to collect on a bet he once made.” With a lot on the line business-wise, I should really be the responsible one for a minute. “Don’t fuck this up, Ben. This is a working trip for you.”
In protest, he says, “First, you get the party at work in your fucking office like I didn’t help make the deal happen.”
“You got credit, bro, and a lot of money you earned.”
“I didn’t get balloons or a cake. I want balloons, and I want some fucking cake. But now you get the girl and to kick back on this trip? This sucks.”
“Pretty much.” I pat his back. “But that five-hundred-million-dollar bonus doesn’t, so have fun running the show. And if anything goes wrong, call Ethan.” I wink at Ally. “I’ll be a little busy.”
Ethan adds, “Take the money. If we go public, you won’t be getting money like that. Now go earn it.”
Bennett and I squeaked into the billionaire’s club when we closed the Brudenbourg media deal. Twenty-five years for twenty billion dollars with first right of refusal after that. Needless to say, we’re sitting pretty for generations to come. Speaking of future generations . . . “Have you thought about my proposal yet?”
While the others are shown to their rooms, I’m dragged to hers on the third floor. “It’s all I’ve thought about.”
“Any decision yet?”
We enter her room and close the door. She leans against it and then lunges toward me. I catch her again. “You have a lot of energy—”
“To burn. I want you. I want you so badly.”
“God, I want you too.” I’d tell her how much I burn for her, but she can feel it . . . just as she’s currently doing.
She pushes my chest, and commands, “On the bed.”
“So bossy,” I tease her.
“I thought you said I was your queen.”
Picking her up, I toss her on the mattress instead. “My queen. My heart. My lover.” Climbing onto the bed, I work my body between her legs. “My life.”
“Your soon-to-be wife.” She wraps her arms around my neck and smiles so sweetly that I almost feel guilty for doing what I’m about to do to her.
Almost.
“My soon-to-be wife.” I kiss her. “Why are you still wearing clothes?”
“My apologies to his grace. Maybe I should be punished.” An eyebrow quirks to match her smirk.
“You enjoy me punishing you too much for it to be an effective form of discipline.”
“Oh, is that what it was for?” she challenges and then laughs. “It feels too good to be bad.”
“You feel too good to be bad.”
She steals a kiss. “I tried to turn a new leaf, but you make being bad feel so good.”
“Don’t ever change, okay?”
“Why would I ever change when I have everything I could ever need right here?” Tightening her arms, she adds, “Now kiss me and show me how much you missed me.”
I kiss her mouth and then sl
ide lower, taking her jeans with me. “So much.” When her pretty pussy is revealed, I cock an eyebrow. “No underwear, Ally?” I keep my voice firm, just how she likes it.
“Nope.”
All teasing is done when a growl erupts from my chest, one of need and desire. I strip her bare and then take what I want, savoring every wet morsel of her body until she’s tremoring beneath me.
As I lie there, my cock royally aches, and I wonder if there’s time to satisfy the hunger. She doesn’t let things like coronations hold her back from what she wants. I’m just fortunate I’m the thing she’s craving.
We roll so I’m on the bottom, and as she slides down my thick cock, I sit up, taking one nipple into my mouth and biting just enough to elicit a moan and a rush of desire through her. Her pace picks up as she rocks on top, and soon we’re both falling apart, my mouth kissing hers and her tongue making love to mine.
Lying in the beautiful aftermath, I hold her close, knowing we only have a short time left before she has to go. Duty calls.
Stealing a few moments, I appreciate every second I have with her because my life has forever changed, but I wouldn’t change it back for anything. Every day, this woman makes life worth living, so I guess it’s only fair if she’s also the death of me.
* * *
The pomp and circumstance of the coronation is mind-boggling. I listen to what I’m told and be where I’m supposed to be at the right time. It seems to be working so far.
The doors open wide, and I hold my elbow out. Princess Arabelle’s delicately gloved hand wraps around my arm, and as the refrain of the choir hits a high hum, we begin our journey down the long aisle of the church. Her white dress is covered in stones that sparkle like diamonds in the setting sun’s rays that peek in from the stained glass windows. Her tiara is anchored top and center, tempting me to crook it to the side. I like her a little messy, a little wild for the church crowd. For her ears alone, I say, “You look beautiful.”
With her eyes on the crowd, giving subtle nods of recognition as we pass by, she finally looks my way. “You look very dapper, Mr. Everest,” she replies with a sly smile. Tradition can only hold her down for so long, after all.
Wanting to check on her one last time before it’s too late, I ask, “Are you okay? Are you sure this is what you want?”
“I am. I’m ready to start this new life.”
At the end of the aisle, we stop. “I love you,” I say not whispering, not hiding how I feel about her for anybody.
“I love you so much and am so thankful my future has you by my side. That means everything to me.”
The trumpets begin to play, and the crowd remains standing as the doors at the other end of the aisle open. We take our seats next to the queen mother and the crowned prince and watch as Marielle ascends to her throne, beginning her reign. With a quick glance at a man in a shadowed doorway nearby, she smiles, turns back, and then bows her head.
She’ll never be forgotten, or hidden from the world. Marielle Astrid Edwards Sutcliffe became queen that day.
35
Hutton
On the back lawn of Sutcliffe Palace, the sun is high, spring is in the air, and Ally and I exchange our wedding vows. It isn’t the huge ceremony of the coronation, but it’s intimate with our family, a few friends, and the new crowned Queen of Brudenbourg in attendance.
It’s cool to tell people that, but what’s just as cool is our old friends, The Crow Brothers. Not only had they hit record gold, but they were now one of the biggest bands in the world. They also made the time to attend.
Just like mine, their hearts are on lockdown. I can’t seem to get over how much has changed in a year, but I’ve never been happier.
Under an arch of pink roses, the blue eyes of my bride rival any above my head, and I slip a ring befitting a queen on her finger. No princess cut for her.
A three-carat Royal Asscher cut diamond that blinds me—almost as much as the price tag did—sparkles on her left hand. Almost. True love has no price though. She’s worth it and more to me. And I’m the proud new owner of a platinum band that I’ll wear with pride.
Ally looks up at me with all the love I’ll ever need, and says, “I wasn’t born to rule. I was born to love you.”
I kiss her under an arch of love, gratitude, and appreciation. Something I intend to do every day for as long as I shall live.
* * *
“What the fuck? I’m coming.” Searching every room I pass, I keep walking until I reach the door. With Ally, Singer, Margie, and Marielle in a bread-baking lesson with Birgit, I’ve been exploring the place. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to answer a knock at the palace, but no one else seems to be around.
We’ve been here for over a week, and I’m ready to jet home with my lovely bride, but she wanted to spend a few extra days, telling me she doesn’t need a fancy honeymoon because every day with me is a dream come true.
She’s got some good lines.
I turn the large brass knob in the center of the blue ten-foot door and pull open the right door. Standing there as if he has a fucking right to is Duke Dick himself. I fucking level him. I’m bad with all the royal terms, so I assume his footmen or whatever they’re called running up the steps are here to help him.
Maybe Ally’s father was right. There’s some bad still inside me. That’s what makes me so right for her, though, so I make no apologies for my behavior or for punching him.
While he rubs his chin, he’s propped back on his feet by his dudes. I’m about to take him down again when he waves a white hanky. “Is that supposed to be a surrender flag?”
“Yes. Don’t hit me again. I’m surrendering.”
I stare at him in disgust. “You’re weak and pathetic, you know that?”
“Yes, I do, but I don’t know why you hit me.”
My mind tracks back to a few days prior when Ally found the footage from the night she and the duke were on the terrace. Although I’d heard the gist a long time ago, seeing him grab her and touch her in ways that make me want to kill him doesn’t keep me from throttling him against the palace doors now.
I am a Texas gentleman, though, so I let go of him and watch as he slides to the tiled platform. This time, his guys don’t rush to help. In fact, they give a slight grin. They can’t say it, but I can. “Yeah, he’s an asshole.”
Ally rushes out the door and skids to a stop. “Oh my God!” As her eyes narrow on him, and she can see he’s going to be fine, she hugs me. “My hero.”
“You bet your fine ass I am.”
When Marielle arrives with her hands fisting at her sides, she says, “I summoned you six hours ago.”
On his hands and knees still gasping for air, he says, “I was busy.”
“Too busy for your queen?”
“My apologies.”
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Marielle corrects.
“My apologies, Your Majesty.”
She shakes her head and looks at her sister. “This should have been done a long time ago.” With her guards flanking her side, she walks until her feet are under his panting head. “Look at me.” When he does, she strips the epaulet from one shoulder and then the other. “You, sir, are no longer a duke of anything. You should vacate the premises of your home, the duke’s home, immediately. If you don’t, you’ll be removed by force and will be considered an enemy of our country. Do you understand, Mr. Vaughn?”
“I do,” he spits at her feet.
“Good. Go about your day and leave my grounds.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I nod. For the quiet mouse Marielle used to be, she’s grown into her stripes and fights like a tiger. He pushes up and heads for the vehicle. The two men remain on the platform. “That’s the duke’s SUV. You’ll need to find another way to wherever you’re going.”
I say, “That royal thing puts the fear of hell in people.”
“So does beheading,” Marielle says as she turns and walks inside.
Singer says, “I thought Bru
denbourg never beheaded anyone?”
Casual and jovial, Marielle heads back toward the kitchen, the conversation flowing back to us. “We don’t talk about it. It’s rare, but it’s happened.” She stops and turns back. “Hey, sis?” she adds. “How’d I do?”
Ally grins. “Spoken like a true queen.”
Epilogue
Hutton
“Mustard.”
Ally giggles.
“Mustard,” she calls again. “Mustard. Mustard. Mustard.”
When that doesn’t work, she weasels out of my hold and dives under the covers. Peeking out, she looks incredibly adorable. “What’s the point of having a safe word if it never works?”
High in the sky of Manhattan, as newlyweds, we’ve settled into the life we’ve chosen to live—together. My brilliant and tenderhearted wife started The Everest Foundation six months ago. She remains an advisor to the queen of Brudenbourg, but through the foundation she provides women in need with educational support, training, counseling, and job placement. She’s also passionate about helping children. From meals to emotional support, she has a team of social workers who are helping to make a difference in their young lives.
I’m still just a numbers guy.
We also bought two thousand acres in the hill country of Texas. I can’t have a queen with no land to rule. She says it’s a perfect place to raise our Everest clan one day.
One day can’t come soon enough.
I climb over her and lie down, putting my weight on her like she makes me do all the time. Well, I don’t put it all on her. I’m six foot four to her five foot four. I’m not trying to crush her. I bring the covers down far enough for me to see her face and then rest on my elbows. “Because a safe word is used during sexual acts. I’m just tickling you.”
“Oh, is that when I’m supposed to yell spider?”
“What? No. Not spider. Aunt.” Now she has my mind muddled.
“What’s the difference? They’re both insects.”
I start laughing. “Not aunt. Ant. Ant is an insect.” I can’t even continue to torture her with tickles right now. Stitches from laughter are forming in my sides.
