Rising: Slay Four

by Paige, Laurelin

  My belly fluttered in anticipation. “Any other surprises I should know about?”

  “Just one.”

  I raised a brow. I didn’t think there was anything else he could say to make me feel more content at the moment or more complete.

  It turned out I was wrong because his last surprise, announced in his no-nonsense alpha way of his that I’d missed for so long, was maybe the best surprise of all.

  “We’re going home.”

  Epilogue

  Six years later: Edward

  “It’s beautiful, Edward. I don’t know what to say.”

  I look at Camilla’s reflection in front of us as I fasten the choker around her neck. It’s an odd match with the silk black robe she’s wearing, but it looks fantastic on her. The alternating ruby and diamond jewels catch the sunlight streaming through the window and sparkle in the mirror and somehow bring out the specks of green in her eyes. It reminds me of the pendant I bought Celia years ago for Valentine’s Day.

  This one is even more valuable, though, since it had belonged to our mother.

  “She would have wanted you to have it today,” I tell her.

  Camilla turns to look at me directly. “You can tell me the truth, Eddy. Did you get this recently?”

  I know what she’s asking—she wants to know if I’ve been hunting down family relics again. More specifically, she wants to know if I’ve been bullying wrongdoers in the process.

  “I’ve had it for a long time, which is embarrassing to admit because I should have given it to you sooner.” I’d been saving it for Genevieve, but now I see the selfishness in keeping this piece from my sister. “As for what you really want to know, I am not involved in that sort of business anymore. I’m far too busy with the present to preoccupy myself with the past.”

  It’s not a lie. My life is full on many levels. Celia and my children take up the majority of my energy, but there’s also Accelecom and the three-point alliance and while Nathan Murphy is doing a fine job as CEO of Werner, I have a lot of input as a major stockholder, which means Hudson Pierce is more in my life than ever. It’s not a complaint. There’s much to admire about the man and much from him to learn. I reckon he’d say the same in return.

  Then there’s the work I do with Leroy. I don’t share the details with anyone other than Celia. A good deal of it is illegal, and I prefer not to involve anyone who doesn’t need to be involved, but Camilla is aware of my contributions. Turns out there is a lot of good that can be done by a man with deep pockets and a skill at wheedling into the private affairs of other rich men. There are far too many predators amongst my class, and my obsessive behaviors have found a noble repurposing in tracking them down. Using my powers for good, as Celia likes to say.

  Since she’s the purest of the good in my life, and since she’s both the one who put me on the path of bringing down bad men and the reason I do it at all, I’d say she’s exactly right.

  Camilla turns back to the mirror, her hand fondling the jewels at her neck. “I’m glad you saved it. My wedding day is the perfect occasion to bring it out.”

  She blinks back tears, and I frown. “It’s much too early for the waterworks. I’m going to have a hard enough time seeing where I’m going when I walk you down the aisle.”

  “Good thing it’s a short aisle, isn’t it?”

  Short it is. Only three rows of chairs are set up in the backyard of Bluntisham House. The only guests invited are family and the closest of friends.

  “My best wedding was intimate,” I say, sensing she needs validation.

  “The first one wasn’t so bad,” she defends. “But you did come out with a more compatible bride the second time, so I’ll give you that. Frank insisted on all the bells and whistles and to-do with my first one, you know. Look where that ended up. I would have preferred small.”

  “And now that’s what you’ve got.” I hope that brings her back to the present, though I appreciate that she may be compelled to talk about Frank today. It’s human nature to compare and contrast. When I’d married Celia, my thoughts constantly measured the occasion to my wedding with Marion. Which ceremony did which part better. Who’d been in attendance. How I felt.

  My situation had been different, of course, considering I hadn’t expected to stay married to my current bride, but even as I planned her demise—a plan I’m convinced now that I could never have carried out—I’d given myself permission to live the fantasy that day. I meant the words when I spoke my vows. I sealed myself to her, til death do we part.

  But I’d said those words to Marion as well, and I’d thought I’d meant them then. I had meant that. If she hadn’t had the courage to leave, I’d likely still be married to her, both of us stuck in an unfulfilling marriage. It shows a great deal of progress for me to be able to look back on our divorce now and be grateful. Another lesson where the moral is keep moving forward and believe the best is yet to come.

  All that said, I can’t imagine what Camilla must be going through today. She wears a lot of scars from her relationship with Frank, some more visible than others. She learns better how to live with them every day. The short-sleeve, low-back wedding dress hanging on the closet door is proof in point.

  Still, moving forward isn’t always easy.

  “Am I doing the right thing?” she asks now. She worries her hands together, her expression anxious. “Maybe I’m not cut out for marriage. Am I rushing into it, do you think?”

  “After six years and two children together, yes, rushing it seems to be an accurate description of the situation.”

  She laughs, which was the point. “You’re right. I must seem crazy. Most people are likely criticizing me for dragging my feet.”

  “Most people’s opinions don’t matter. Only mine. And since I only want you to be happy, and since I believe you’re the happiest I’ve ever known you to be right now, then I believe your wedding is happening exactly when it was meant to happen.” I pull my handkerchief from my suit pocket and dab at her eyes. “Not that you asked, but I also think you were quite efficient in the order of events. This way, you didn’t have to rope other people’s kids into being your flower girls. You have two beautiful daughters already lined up.”

  “If they do what they’re supposed to. A three-year-old and a four-year-old are hardly reliable.”

  “Which is why you still had to recruit a child wrangler. I’m sure Cleo will keep them all to task just fine.”

  “Thank you for that,” she says, and I know she’s not just talking about Cleo’s help with her daughters in today’s ceremony, but she clarifies anyway. “Thank you for all of it, Eddie. You’ve been the best big brother a woman could ask for, and I’m so honored that it’s you who will give me away.”

  I’m not given time to respond, which is likely for the best since my throat feels extraordinarily tight all of a sudden, before the door to the guest suite bursts open and Genevieve comes bounding in with Freddie on her heels, each of them carrying an assortment of cosmetic bags and beauty accessories.

  “I’m late!” she says, scurrying to set her items out on the vanity. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed here last night as Dad suggested. I don’t know why I thought it would be easier to come in this morning, but lesson’s learned. I’m here now. I hope you’re not terribly cross with me.”

  While I recognize there’re more important matters at hand, I’m admittedly self-absorbed. “Where’s Abigail?”

  My daughter gives me a vexed look. “Chandler has her downstairs. Hello to you too.”

  I shrug. I’m not going to apologize for wanting to see my granddaughter whenever possible. I see her so little since Geneveive’s life is across the pond.

  Camilla clears her throat, reminding us she’s supposed to be the woman in the spotlight.

  “You’re perfectly on time. It’s meant to be a laid-back occasion,” she says, the bride ironically soothing her matron of honor. “If I’d wanted something more formal I would have hired someone to do my hair and mak
eup. I asked you for exactly this reason—I wanted all of today to be real and authentic, and I hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle. I’m so thankful to get to spend this time with you.”

  Genevieve settles, her aunt’s words being what she needed to calm her nerves. “I’m honored to be part of this day. Let’s get you sparkled up, shall we?”

  “That’s our cue to leave,” I say to my nephew who I assume isn’t needed now that he’s done being my daughter’s bellhop.

  “Unless you’d like to stay. I could always use some help testing out blush tones.”

  Genevieve is teasing, but Freddie’s expression says he’s not so sure.

  I jump in to rescue him. “He’d love to, but I need him downstairs for something. I haven’t decided what yet.”

  Camilla laughs. “Get out of here, boys.”

  As soon as the door shuts behind us, Freddie sighs in relief.

  “It’s okay, kid,” I say, ruffling his hair. “We men have to stick together.”

  “We do.” He fist bumps me then disappears, likely off to lose himself in one of the books he’s always carrying around or to latch onto Chandler. Between Camilla’s daughters and Genevieve’s and mine, there are a lot of women around. I understand the boy’s need for any male companionship he can get.

  I, on the other hand, couldn’t be more content with those that surround me on a daily basis. Peering out the hall window to the backyard, I see them now, three of the people I love most in the world. They’re gathered round the maple tree near the hedged garden, and a momentary flash of regret cuts through me as I remember all the times I missed with my older children, days spent in the country where I stayed locked inside.

  Instead of holding the regret, though, I let it go. I can do nothing for the moments I lost to distraction in the past. But it means everything that I choose to be present in the now.

  * * *

  CELIA

  “Higher,” Cleo pleads from the tree swing. “Higher.”

  “Mmhmm.” But I don’t push her any harder. I don’t think of myself as overprotective in general, but since Freddie broke his arm last summer from jumping off this exact swing, I’m perhaps more cautious than I need to be.

  Besides, I’m a bit distracted. “Stella,” I scold. “Leave those alone. I mean it.”

  “Mummy,” the four-year-old protests. “You said the balloons would fly!”

  The strings of the helium balloons are gathered and loosely tied around the fence for later. We’ll release them as part of the ceremony, which is still an hour away. “Later. I promise.”

  Stella’s expression says there’s no way she’s dropping her fascination. She’s willful and persistent and never takes no for an answer. A lot like her mother, in other words.

  Fortunately, my dark knight has come to my rescue.

  “Listen to your mother,” he says, scooping her up in his arms. It may have been irresponsible getting her dressed up so early—there’s every chance she’ll be stained and wrecked by the time the ceremony starts—but seeing her bundled in tulle and lace in Edward’s arms, I regret nothing.

  “You look particularly dashing,” I say as he comes over. I’ve completely abandoned pushing Cleo now, so when my husband leans down to kiss me, I’m there for it.

  “Mummy!” Cleo complains while Stella giggles.

  “You’re breathtaking, as always.” He picks at a leaf that has found its way into the bun at the back of my nape.

  I pose dramatically to show off my floral embroidered strapless fil-coupe dress.“You think so? My husband picked it out.”

  “Your husband has good taste.”

  “That he does. It has pockets.” I shove my hands inside the hidden pockets to demonstrate.

  “Because a woman can’t be carrying a handbag all the time, and where is she supposed to put a binkie or her lipstick?”

  He’s practically quoting me, and I love it. I’ve obviously been complaining about it for long enough since both our daughters are long past using a binkie, but the sentiment remains, and my husband, as always, listens. Always looks out for me. Always puts my needs first.

  What more could a woman want?

  Stella wriggles in Edward’s arms. “Flutterflies! Cleo! Flutterflies!”

  I look where she’s pointing and see a swarm of butterflies over the bluebells. Edward puts her down so she can chase them, and Cleo, not wanting to miss out on the fun, jumps off the swing to join her.

  “Care—” I wince as she lands on the ground, my warning coming too late. “Ful.” But she bounces after her sister, obviously unharmed.

  Edward puts his arm around my waist. “You can’t protect her from everything. Eventually, they’re going to be hurt by something. Our job is to be here for them when they do.”

  “I know.” I hug him back. I know it’s just as hard for him to accept that as it is for me. Neither of us want our girls to ever feel pain, and if they are ever hurt maliciously, I am certain that Edward wouldn’t let their abuser get off without serious maiming.

  And I’m okay with that. I know who I married. While I’m grateful that he’s set aside revenging for the most part, I also find peace knowing the lengths he’d go to if provoked. He’s not an angel, and I’d never pretend otherwise.

  What he is, though, is everything I ever needed. A man who challenges me and puts me in my place. A man who sees the real me and lives to make that me well and whole. He’s not just that for myself, but for the children we have together. I hadn’t wanted children before him; even after I’d lost my first baby, I’d put the notion out of my mind. After what I’d been through, knowing that there were men who preyed on the innocent waiting around every bend, why would I want to bring a child into this world?

  Then, with Edward, I’d felt safe. I knew that he’d never let the things that happened to me happen to our girls. I knew that, if somehow something terrible did happen, he wouldn’t turn his back on them. I knew he would be the father I’d wished I had, and every day watching him with them, that void inside me fills a little bit more, my heart is a little more healed.

  “Want a go?” Edward asks.

  I move my focus from our girls to the swing dangling in front of us. I hesitate, but then I’m climbing onto the seat that was purposefully made wide enough for an adult. For me, specifically. A response to a session, years ago now. Therapy I hadn’t known I’d needed.

  “Not too high, though,” I warn, in contrast to my daughter’s earlier pleas.

  I know I’ll be ignored, that Edward will push me exactly as high as he wants me to go, but I don’t worry about it. I trust him completely.

  As I sail through the air, I close my eyes, relishing the freedom of flying. When I open them, Stella’s obviously been back to her agenda because there’s a single red balloon rising in front of me.

  Beyond that, all I see is miles and miles of sky.

  * * *

  This story is over, but there are other books in this Universe. Turn the page to be sure you’re caught up.

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  * * *

  Ready for a new Laurelin Paige alpha playboy? Man in Charge, book one in a sexy new billionaire duet, is coming soon.

  The Sebastians own this city.


  Hell, they own the whole world.

  All I want is one little piece of it, a corner that I can call my own.

  So when my boss runs away to “find herself”, I seize the opportunity and dive head first into the Sebastian’s glamorous universe. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted—fast paced and high stakes—and, even though I don’t fit in, I’m excellent at faking it.

  Until I come face to face with the man in charge, Scott Sebastian, the arrogant, playboy heir with the mind of a devil and the body of a god and a mouth I can’t stop thinking about.

  He’s infuriating. He’s a distraction. He’s the man who wants me in his bed as much as I want to be there.

  And, if I get too close, he’ll be the one person who could expose me for what I really am—a fraud.

  Don’t miss it!

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