“I told him I’d be here, watching out for you both. That was it.”
“My dad…” she queried, not for herself but for Tristan. She sniffled, trying to hold back tears.
“No, sweetheart.”
She accepted the handkerchief he gave her and blew her nose. “That’s okay.” And for the first time, the accompanying thought wasn’t that she didn’t need him, that she was strong enough on her own. No, this time it was okay because she no longer felt like a motherless child, convincing herself she could handle this heartache. She wasn’t alone anymore.
“A couple of neighbors brought supper over, though, and one little girl brought you the bouquet. She said she lived down the street—”
Feeling brave, she looked up at him with a red face, watery, irritated eyes, and a lump in her throat. “I love you, too. And not because you helped me through this week, or because you watched over Tristan when I know you should be at your club, or because I want you to take care of me, or because I love it when you boss me around, or because you let me get away with so much sassing, or because I have daddy issues, or because we’re on our own again, or—”
He cut her off with a brutal kiss, bending her back over his arm, gripping her hair, sliding his velvety tongue against hers, groaning softly as she gave over, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.
When her brain resurfaced from that kiss after he let her stand on her own feet again, she wobbled a little and then looked up into his dark gray eyes studying her.
“Why, then?”
“Huh?” she asked, catching her breath and trying to slow her racing heart.
“You’ve told me all the reasons you don’t love me. Tell me why you do, then.” He grasped her chin, with that gentle but firm touch.
Put on the spot, she licked her lower lip. “I’m not a gold digger.”
A grin broke out on his handsome face. “I didn’t think you were, Bunny. You’re the hardest working woman I know. Believe me, I know a woman doesn’t need me when she grins as she flips me the bird from one hundred feet in the air.” She gestured to their surroundings, but before she could speak, he growled. “Don’t you dare for a second think that I feel obligated to save you from your current living circumstances. Don’t insult either of us. I couldn’t care less about where you live right now. If I want to change your mailing address, it’s because I need you in my home, not because I feel obligated to get you out of this one. So, tell me now. Why do you love me?”
The sound of another zombie meeting its squishy end, along with Tristan’s exultant chortle, filtered from the den, and Bunny had to giggle at that bizarre accompaniment to their romantic declarations.
“I love you because you’re willing to watch zombie flicks with my baby brother when you could be with your friends at the club.”
“Our friends, fiammetta.”
“I love you because you held me all the many times I cried this week, without becoming uncomfortable or ghosting on me, leaving me to deal with all of this on my own.”
“It’s what families do for each other.”
“And I love the glint that comes into your eyes when I’ve smarted off at you and you start counting.”
“I haven’t added to that count in days. You’ve been so well-behaved.”
“That could change at any moment, Beastly. I love when you growl at me. And”—she pulled his head down and kissed his lips—”I love it when you call me your little flame. That endearment gets me so hot.”
He smiled and sighed against her lips. “I want you to be mine. All mine.”
“I’m a package deal. You know that, right? Likely always will be.” She looked into his eyes, waiting for the withdrawal, but he only kissed her again.
“I want to pack you up and take you home with me tonight and never let you leave again. And I’d already assumed it was a package deal. Tristan will always be welcome in our home.”
“Our home?” she said with a snort. “You think I’m just gonna move in with you? Grinnie would roll in her grave.” A painful twinge pulled at the ache in her heart. Even so, Bunny couldn’t help but imagine Grinnie’s amusement at their conversation as well as her advice. “Grinnie used to say ‘why should a man pay for a cow when he can get the milk for free?’ and, Buster, don’t even try to think that I’m the cow in that scenario.”
“Did you just call me Buster?”
“I damn sure did, Sir.”
“Then I can think of no better way to honor your saintly grandmother than to do this.”
He sank to his knee on her often scrubbed and very worn and cracked linoleum and took her hands in his. Her own knees went weak as she realized what he was doing, and she could barely hear over the pounding rush of her pulse in her ears.
“Bunny, you told me all the reasons you don’t love me, and then shared all the reasons that you do. But it didn’t occur to you that I worried about asking you, who already live in a love- and warmth-filled home, to help me make a home out of the cold, mausoleum-like behemoth I live in. There’s an entire wing I rattle around in all by myself. I want you sliding down the bannisters and into my arms. I want to watch zombie movies with Tristan in the home theater room. I want you to bring all of your vibrancy, your passion, and your sassiness into my world, and all your friends here are welcome—as long as they leave the weapons at home.”
“Oh shush!” she said with a giggle. “But Miss Louisa would probably love to see your kitchen and meet Mrs. Hernandez. Ai, the cocina they could create.”
“Speaking of cuisine, Miss Louisa sent over a dozen mixed corn and flour tortillas. She said they were your favorite with melted butter.”
Bunny drew a deep breath and then smiled at the foil wrapped package on the counter. “My ass is going to get huge.”
His hands were hard and warm on her ass. “Speaking of which, I owe you a pop for calling me Buster.”
“Sweet-talker,” she murmured as he once again took her hands in his, and just like that, he was serious again.
“I love you because you’ve brought me to life, fiammetta. Marry me.”
He pressed kisses to her hands and then pulled her close, nuzzling her abdomen before looking up at her, tenderness in his expression, a mist of tears in his eyes. He was always so in control, so commanding, and to show such vulnerability was all she needed.
She ran her fingers through his dark hair, stroking the beginnings of silver at his temples, and then caressed his hard-sculpted cheekbones with the backs of her fingers. “I thought you’d want to collar me, convince me to accept a Dom/sub relationship, and offer an alternative lifestyle without any of the traditional trappings, Sir.”
“I plan to do both of those things, fiammetta, once we’ve negotiated a substitute collar for you. But I wouldn’t expect you to live a life with no protection or provision if something happened to me. I want you to fill my world, not just a single role in it.”
“Yes. I’ll marry you, Joseph. Sir. Yes, to all of it.”
“Even the collar?” he asked as he rose to his feet. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the floor so she was at eye level.
“I trust you to come up with an agreeable alternative.”
“Cuffs? A permanent collar like the loose one you wore the other night?”
“We’ll see? Um, Sir?” she murmured, rubbing her lips against his.
“Mmm?”
“What about all the people who will think I’ve married you to improve my situation?”
“Anyone who knows me knows that, by marrying you, I’ve improved my situation, fiammetta. The rest can think what they wish.”
“I smell food,” Tristan said as he came into the kitchen. “Oh, gross. Never mind,” he uttered in disgust as he realized they were kissing. “I’ll come back later.”
Joseph and Bunny burst into laughter, and Bunny chased after her brother to tell him the good news. Before she left the room, she turned back and gave Joseph a playful wink and then shook her finger at him.
“Touch my tortillas and I’ll have to hurt you…Buster.”
His laughter echoed to her from the kitchen.
Epilogue
September…
Joseph encountered his butler in the main corridor of Hazelle House, carrying a basket of rose petals, and chuckled. “You know, I’m all for diversity, Hughes, but I’m not sure how well you’ll pull off the flower girl routine.”
Hughes broke into laughter as he stirred the vibrant red, peach, and orange rose petals in the basket with his finger. “No? I was determined to break stereotypes. Are you looking for Bunny, sir?”
“Yes. All of the ladies just arrived, and they need to help her get ready.”
“The last I saw of her she was headed out to her truck, looking for a tool she needed. She said something about staying busy and that she’d finally isolated the issue with the amplifier in your media room. I expect she’s in the—”
“The attic.”
“Quite right, sir.”
Joseph shook his head as they walked together. “Leave it to my fiancée to break the bridal mold. She could’ve gone to the spa or holed up in the suite with her friends to spend the entire day getting ready.”
“I’m sure she will be stupendously lovely, regardless of the amount of time she takes, sir,” Hughes said agreeably. “The entire staff, myself included, are on tenterhooks, waiting to see her in the dress.”
The dress. Her one concession to the mania of bridal shopping. Violet and a whole host of friends had taken Bunny shopping and had looked for two weeks solid for the perfect dress, gone to umpteen bridal boutiques in as many cities before finding the dress. Mona, Shae, and even Jade had seen the dress. But he wouldn’t see her in it until that evening, when she became his wife.
Hector was licensed to perform civil ceremonies and did so on a regular basis for friends in the lifestyle. He would be presiding over their wedding.
“All right, then. I’ll head up to the suite and see if I can locate her.”
Hughes nodded. “Good. And don’t worry about preparations down here. We have everything under control, sir.”
“I like hearing that.” The mansion had been a venue to a variety of events, but never a wedding. It was good to shake things up occasionally.
Tristan had found Joseph’s home to his liking and was adjusting well, with the addition of a tutor and an occupational therapist. Joseph was also having the mostly unused basketball court resurfaced for him to skateboard on.
Violet and her friends had taken over the luxury suite on the floor beneath his, and as he took the stairs, he heard the controlled chaos as the women set up while waiting for him to find the bride.
He entered their private suite, pausing in the cool, dim quiet of the living room. A muffled thump came from the direction of the study. The workmen should’ve already been finished for the day, at work on creating an adjoining doorway between the study and one of the neighboring suites so Tristan could have his own bedroom, bathroom, and game room.
“Shit,” and other stifled expletives, came from the room, and he headed in that direction, frowning. He recognized that voice.
The sight that met his eyes when he entered his dark-paneled study brought a smile to his face.
Bits of broken drywall were scattered on the floor between his antique desk and the expansive fireplace, and more dust and particles were wafting down from the ceiling, where a pair of shapely denim-clad legs and an adorable, bouncy bubble butt were currently churning in the air, through a hole in the ceiling, as Bunny tried to lift herself out of the hole she’d made.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?”
The legs suddenly went motionless, suspended twenty feet over his head.
“Well, shit,” she muttered from the floor above.
“We were at fifteen by my count, love. Are you all right?”
“I’d be doing peachy, Sir, if I could just get my big ass up through this hole.”
“Shall I stay down here and catch you?” That might be more expedient, but he was afraid of her getting hurt.
“No. I have a good hold on the beams up here. I just need a little help. We ought to talk about decking this portion of the attic, Sir.” She huffed and tried to lift her lower half through the hole again and then cursed some more under her breath when more drywall gave way.
“Can you hang on for a minute?”
“No problem, only…”
“What, fiammetta? Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“No, I’m not hurt. Would you just promise not to tell anyone, especially Mr. Grogan, that I busted a hole in your ceiling? That’s bad for business.”
“Your secret is safe with me, if we can also talk about your continued propensity for endangering yourself?”
“We can talk all you want, Beastly. But could you help me out?”
“Be there in a moment, love. And now you’re at seventeen.”
“Whatever!” she growled, legs churning with renewed determination.
But she was still stuck a minute later when he entered the warm attic and found her, red-faced and down to her armpits in drywall. She did, indeed, have a good grasp on the nearest floor beams but not enough to give her the leverage she needed to get back through the hole. Thankful he was wearing sneakers, he walked on the beam edges until he reached her.
“I shudder to think what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gone to our suite looking for you,” he said as he took position over her and lifted her back through the hole. She joined him, so they were both balanced split-legged on the floor beams.
“Thank you,” she said as she wiped her hands on her thighs and then hugged him. “I’ve never done that before.” Up close, she seemed a little pale. “I’m glad you came when you did. I had a good grip, but I couldn’t have held on forever.”
“The ladies are all waiting for you downstairs. You okay?” he asked, studying her carefully, ready to catch her if she lost her balance.
She smiled up at him in the dimness of the attic. “I’m good. Just needed to catch my breath. I guess I better not keep them waiting. Wait. Seventeen? I only count sixteen.”
“Insulting your ass or any other delectable part of your body will get you a pop, too.”
“Sh—oooot. I forgot about that.”
He watched with amusement as she clambered across the beams, proving she did know what she was doing, while he had to take it a little bit slower.
She gathered up her tools and her tool pouch. “I guess I’ll see you downstairs in a couple of hours, handsome.”
He gave her butt a nice little dusting to get her count caught up and then kissed her. “I can’t wait.”
* * * *
Bunny was relatively certain she’d never knocked anyone speechless before in her life. “Well, this is a good sign…I think?”
Violet, Jessica, Cassie, Charity, and Grace—hell—all of the wonderful new friends she’d made in Divine, thanks to Violet and Joseph, were gaping at her as she came out of the bedroom. They’d helped with hair, makeup, lingerie, and all the other frou-frou touches, and then Violet had shooed them into the sitting room of the suite to wait while she had helped Bunny into the dress.
Charity and Grace had done her hair for her in a huge mass of waves that floated around her shoulders like a cloud. At her last trip to the salon, she’d made the switch to a more natural shade of russet. The overall look was beautiful. The bright red had been a therapeutic change, but she was into a new chapter in her life and wanted her hair to reflect that progression.
She’d done her own makeup with a little help from Lucy Carter and her sister-in-law, Maizy Welsh, giggling so much it was a wonder they’d gotten done in time.
And then Violet had helped her with the dress. Made of pale beige lace overlaying nude tulle, the dress was a bit of an optical illusion, making it appear that she was naked beneath the lace. It had a side split reaching to mid-thigh and a chapel-length train.
Her favorite part of the dress was that, alth
ough it offered a relatively modest bodice with a sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves, the dress was sheer in the back, nearly all the way to her tailbone. She was betting Joseph would appreciate the contrasts.
She did a full turn at their request, and Grace and Rachel nudged each other, and Rachel smiled.
“What?” Bunny asked, beginning to worry maybe the dress wasn’t right on her short frame. “It’s not right?”
“Oh, no,” Rachel said with a chuckle. “We just can’t wait to see the look on Joseph’s face.”
Gwen Alvarez nodded in agreement as she nursed her baby, which was bound to her torso in a really cool sling. “I know exactly what Chris would say, y’all. He’d adopt that ‘family’ accent of his and say, “You are sooo beyootiful! He’s gonna take one look at you, an’ he’s gonna die!” she said with a grand swipe of her hand. All the ladies chuckled and congratulated Gwen on her perfect impersonation of her lovable husband. Gwen was married to not one but two totally hot cowboys, a popular concept in Divine which Bunny was still wrapping her mind around.
There were sniffles around the room as the ladies hugged her and left to give her a few minutes alone.
Violet fluffed her hair one last time. “You okay, sweetie?”
Bunny gazed in the mirror at the woman looking back at her, and felt beautiful. And it had nothing to do with the dress, or the pearl earrings dangling from her ears, or the bracelet made of three rows of matching pearls worn on her wrist, both gifts from Joseph. On the other wrist she wore a cuff he’d had made especially for her.
At first glance, it looked plain, but upon closer inspection, Joseph’s thumbprint was placed at regular intervals all the way around it, and the inscription on the inside read fiammetta nel mio cuore. Little flame in my heart.
She stroked the faint fingerprint ridges of his beautiful gift to her, given the night she formally agreed to be his submissive. To learn from him. To explore her own submission. The recent memory made her smile. “I’m just perfect. I have a favor to ask of you, Violet.”
Bunny and the Beast [Divine Creek Ranch 22] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 24
