That was a hell of a compliment coming from him, and tears stung behind her eyes. She was submissive in the bedroom because she chose to be. She liked to allow him to get the upper hand and be her man; she liked that he could handle her pleasure. It also meant the world to her that he understood that and saw it for what it was.
“I will call you on it, just like I want you to call me on it.”
She grasped his hand, pulling him into a fierce kiss. For the first time on the trip, he let her take control, manipulating his tongue this way and that, letting her exert her authority, letting her be his equal. When she pulled back, his eyes were glazed, as were hers, but with his new tattoo and her being sore from their bedroom activities, they weren’t in a position to satisfy this new desire.
“You ready to go back and face life?” he asked, walking back over to the bike and holding it steady for her to get on.
She realized with clarity that this was what Liam did all day every day. He took the first step in everything and held life steady so that she could get on. He made sure her anchor was placed and he was holding tight to it. He was her anchor, and as long as she let him, he would always be there to ground her.
“With you, I’m ready to face anything.” She hugged him tightly around the waist, careful to avoid the spot on his back he’d just gotten inked.
“And remember.” He leaned back, tilting his head for a kiss, which she gladly gave. “If there ever comes a time when we’ve lost our way, even a little bit again, we do what we did these past few days.” His eyebrows wiggled in suggestion. “We have lots of sex and talk in between it.”
She giggled, pinching his hand. “Sex didn’t make that big of a difference. It was the communication.” She shook her head at him.
“But you can’t deny that the communication got easier the more relaxed we got.”
She couldn’t deny that, and it told her more than anything else that they had to make sure they took care of themselves. “Okay, but that means we need to take care of one another; we need to make sure we’re not stressed and we’re not expecting each other to be a superhero. We’re human, and we need to remember that.”
Liam lifted her hand to his lips, giving it a kiss. “Good, now let’s go check on our kids.”
*
“Well the house is still standing,” Denise quipped as they pulled the bike up the drive. She could see Tyler’s truck there, and it looked as if Meredith was with him, carrying Addie. They were coming out onto the front porch as Liam parked the bike.
“Daddy!”
They heard the small voice, the stamping of feet, and the excited shuffling as Tatum made her way through the front door as fast as her legs could carry her. Out of nowhere, Drew appeared behind her, lifting her quickly. “Here, munchkin, don’t even attempt those steps.”
She squealed as he lifted her high in the air before setting her down on the ground, allowing her to bypass the stairs. Once her feet were on solid ground again, she scrambled towards her parents.
Liam took a knee on the ground and held out his arms for her, catching her as she ran at full speed towards him—like the tornado analogy he’d used to describe her. “I missed you,” he told her, picking her up and taking her over to where Denise stood, an indulgent smile on her face.
“Did you miss us?” Denise asked, holding her hands out for the toddler.
Tatum came to her willingly, burying her head in her mom’s shoulder, putting her thumb in her mouth as she curled up. “No.” She shook her head, her words muffled by her thumb. “Drew let me sleep in his bed, and Ty Ty let me have ice cweam for dinner.”
Denise glared at Tyler. “He did, did he?”
He held his hands out to his side. “She wouldn’t eat. Don’t you dare judge me.”
Liam grinned over at his son. “You not only let her in your room, but you let her sleep with you? I’m proud of you.”
“She was cryin’, and I couldn’t take it anymore. It always helped her when she was a baby. I gave it a shot and it worked.”
The group of them caught up briefly before the twins went about their previous plans. Tyler ambled over to them. “Did y’all have a good time?” His grin was shit-eating, and Liam gave him his own grin.
“We did. Thank y’all for watching the kids.”
“It’s no problem,” Meredith assured them. “Just remember this in case we ever need it.”
*
“Tornado Tatum’s in bed, and she’s asleep.” Liam sighed as he got in bed next to his wife later on that night.
“Thanks for putting her down. I caught up with Mandy. It seems like they all had a good time without us. Maybe we really can do this again sometime since the world didn’t seem to stop because we weren’t here.”
She snuggled up next to Liam, hooking her leg over his waist. He lazily trailed his hand up and down her thigh. She sighed happily as she kept talking. “If we ever need to get back to basics again, we’ll do it.”
“Back to basics?” he questioned, his voice sleepy.
“Yeah. You, me, some alone time, and, at the end, our kids. That’s our back to basics.”
And neither one of them could argue that.
The End
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Remembered
A DuChamps Dynasty Novella
By
Seraphina Donavan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
Edited by: Meg Graham Weglarz
Cover Art by: Kari Ayasha, Cover to Cover Designs
Formatting: Paul Salvette, BB eBooks
Also by Seraphina Donavan
The DuChamps Dynasty Series
Been Loving You Too Long
Have A Little Faith In Me
I’ll Take Care Of You
The Gresham County Series
Bad Girl Lessons
Bad Boy Secrets
The Bourbon & Blood Series
Bennett, Book One
Ciaran, A Bourbon & Blood Novella
Clayton, Book Two
And coming soon
Carter, Book Three
Stand Alone Novellas
Nobody But You
Coming Home
Wrong For Ms. Wright
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Dedication
To all my wonderful readers who fel
l in love with Vincent and Ophelia… Thank you for waiting for this, thank you for reading and supporting me on this amazing journey.
‡
Prologue
The restaurant was crowded at brunch, everyone enjoying their famous Hot Browns and other Kentucky delicacies. While the dress might have been casual, there was no denying that the place exuded an air of wealth and exclusivity. At the rear of the large dining room, an icy blonde occupied a table alone, sipping her iced tea and surveying the crowd with mild disdain. Even though most would have considered the clientele to be wealthy and elite, they were still far beneath her notice.
A slightly disheveled brunette walked in, her ridiculously curvy body resulting in appreciative glances from most of the men present, regardless of their age, social positon, degree, or impotence. She approached the table and took a seat across from her polar opposite.
Melina Tate smiled but the expression did not warm her cool gaze. The brunette was simply the hired help, after all. “Do you have what I need?”
The young woman tossed her dark, bed tousled hair over her shoulder and dug into her overly large and messy handbag for a moment. Eventually, she produced a memory card which she passed across the table.
“That’s what you asked for,” the brunette said. “He was pretty out of it from the drink. I did the best I could.”
Melina frowned. “The best you could better be enough to convince his wife he’s been unfaithful…Was he actually unfaithful?”
The curvy brunette rolled her eyes. “He was given a high enough dose of rohypnol to fell an elephant. A, I’m not into rape. B, I’m definitely not fucking a limp dick.”
Melina’s mouth firmed at the woman’s coarse speech. “Of course. But the pictures are convincing?”
“Yes. With a little help and some creative camera angles, it looked as if he was an active and eager participant… What the hell did this guy do to you? Cause this kind of revenge scheme is primetime worthy.”
“He ruined my reputation… and he left me poor.”
The brunette’s eyes raked over Melina, taking in the designer dress and shoes, the handbag that cost as much as a car. “I think we have different definitions of poor,” she said evenly. She hated rich bitches like this one, but the money had been too good to pass up.
Melina laughed, a cold sound. “Oh, I’m sure we do.” An elegantly manicured hand disappeared into her handbag only to reemerge with an envelope. No wire transfers ever. They’d nearly cost her everything the last time. The scheme to put Justin in jail and effectively end any hope of the DuChamps siblings maintaining control of the hotel empire had blown up in epic fashion and she’d left far too clear a trail. Had Claude not been willing to take the fall for her, and had she not been in possession of some very incriminating photos of the DA, she’d be sitting in prison instead of plotting her revenge over brunch. “And speaking of the very crass subject of money… your payment.”
“Maybe I can treat us to breakfast?” the brunette offered. She didn’t want to, but it seemed the polite thing to do.
Melina smiled coolly again. “Oh, no. No, dear. I’ve already eaten… and you—well, you’re hardly dressed for your surroundings, are you?”
Suddenly conscious of the short skirt she wore, the fact that her top was clearly rumpled from the previous evening and her makeup was long since gone, the brunette lowered her gaze to the table. “It wouldn’t do to be seen fraternizing with the help, right?”
Melina rose to her feet, her elegant heels clicking on the tile. “I’m so glad you understand… but thank you for your excellent work. I’m sure there will be photos here that show just what I need Ophelia to see.”
Melina walked out of the restaurant then, ignoring the curious stares behind her and crossed the street to her rental car. She was eager to leave Kentucky and get back to her beloved New Orleans. She was even more eager to put her plan in motion. Ophelia Broulliard, the upstart, social climbing bitch who should still be little more than a kitchen maid, would regret the day she married into the DuChamps clan. And Vincent, she thought with a cool smile, would be on his knees.
He’d wrecked her family’s business with his refusal to comply, he’d forced her to let that ham-fisted ogre, Claude, touch her. His worthless junkie of a brother had nearly sent her to prison, but she laid the blame for that at Vincent’s door, as well. If he hadn’t been so difficult, she and Claude would never have had to set their sights on Justin anyway. No, it was all Vincent. He would pay. Ophelia was his only weakness and she meant to exploit it to the fullest.
‡
Chapter One
Vincent DuChamps climbed into the back of the waiting limo that would take him from the hotel in Lexington to the airport so he could finally fly home. Exhaustion plagued him—mentally and physically. He could have stayed with his sister, Kaitlyn, but being on a horse farm far from the construction site just hadn’t set well with him. Of course, if he’d stayed with Kaitlyn and Grant, his life wouldn’t be on the verge of going straight to hell.
It had been his idea to create a boutique, luxury hotel in downtown Lexington. The city was small, but with the horse industry, it frequently drew large and moneyed crowds. It was only natural to take advantage of that. Yet the project had been one problem after another. So much so that he’d felt his only option was to oversee it personally. It had pulled him away from Ophelia and their daughter, Isabella.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered it immediately. “DuChamps.”
“I know who you are… we have the same last name.”
The tension drained from him instantly. All it took was the sound of Ophelia’s voice. Soft, sultry, the lilt of amusement—like the rest of her, it was sexy as hell. And she was his. They’d been married for almost two years. Their daughter was a thirteen month old terror. It was the one part of his life that was perfect. He was going to hold on to that no matter what.
He grinned, “So what are you wearing?”
“Pervert.”
“Pot and kettle,” he said. His wife, despite her sometimes prim demeanor, had a healthy streak of kink running through her, for which he was eternally grateful.
“The truth isn’t sexy.”
“Lie,” he commanded gruffly.
“Not a stitch,” she answered, but spoiled it by laughing. “Give me five minutes and that will be the truth. Justin and Rosalee are in town and they took Isabella for the evening. Addie is enamored of babies right now. So I’m going to take a bath and remind myself what it was like to not share my bath with a dozen toys and a splashing baby.”
A vivid image was burned in his mind forever of Ophelia reclining in the tub, her hands moving seductively over her body, pleasuring herself without any idea he was watching her. The memory never failed to stir him.
“You should call me while you’re in the tub,” he suggested. As frequently as he traveled, phone sex and sexting weren’t new to either of them. They were a poor substitute, but he was a desperate man.
“I can’t. I’m meeting Brenna for drinks,” she said. “But when you get home, I’ll make it up to you.”
“That will be later tonight. If you want to eat late, we could even have dinner together—in the garden, by the pool… clothing optional.”
He heard the slight hitch to her breathing, that little note in his voice that told him just what she wanted. What they both wanted. “What time?” she finally asked.
“I’ll be there by nine,” he said. “I want you naked when I get there.”
“That might be a little difficult—.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t a warm expression. It was carnal, primal even. “It wasn’t a request, Ophelia.”
She stopped. “Are you going to spank me if I disobey?”
“I plan to spank you regardless.” It was uttered like a promise.
Her breath caught again, and when she replied, there was no disguising the lust in her trembling voice. “Just naked or do you have any other requests?”
“I’ll see you at nine.”
Vincent ended the call and sat there for a moment before making another call, one that he dreaded. He didn’t bother to call Stanley’s office number, but dialed his personal cell phone instead. When the other man he answered, he didn’t bother with a greeting. “Any info yet?”
Stanley cursed under his breath. “It’s only been eight hours, Vincent. No. There’s no word yet. Do you remember anything else about the woman, any identifying features?”
“Other than the fact that she was naked and in my bed? No, Stanley… I don’t remember a thing. I got up, went to the bathroom, puked my guts out, and when I came back she was gone.” That was his only memory. He didn’t remember meeting her, sure as hell didn’t remember inviting her back to his hotel room or any of the things that might have happened in between.
“Vincent… we all get drunk and to stupid things. If you talk to Ophelia, tell her the truth, yes, it will suck. Eventually she would forgive you.”
Somehow, he controlled his temper. Somehow, he didn’t throw the phone with enough force to smash it into pieces. “I did not cheat on my wife, Stanley. There was nothing… I would know. I would have smelled her, I would have felt it. I haven’t laid eyes on another woman that even tempted me, much less that I actually wanted. I don’t know what happened last night, but I’m damn sure of what didn’t happen.”
Stanley sighed again. “Fine. I’m working on getting someone in hotel security to get me copies of the closed circuit feed. Maybe we can get a decent look at her on some of the footage. And I’m working on credit card receipts from the hotel bar… Who would do this, Vincent? Who would try to ruin your life this way? Claude’s in jail. Marvin Tate is bankrupt and doesn’t have two pennies to rub together to even think about bribing someone… and Melina Tate has moved on to bigger and better things. I hear she’s angling for a politician now.”
Back to the Beginning: A Duet Page 7
