Masters for Life

by Ginger Voight

  “He will be,” Father said, “after he’s proven he’s fit to be your husband.”

  “And what’s that going to take, Dad?”

  “Whatever it takes to prove he is not a threat to this family,” was all he would say. I knew that meant Devlin would be vetted like someone running for office, and it would take a while for Father to exhaust every angle to test him. Thanks to Devlin’s past, he would never, ever pass the test.

  I sighed and stood to my feet. “Then I guess that we’ve reached an impasse.” He said nothing as he watched me. He refused to blink. “Take care of yourself, Dad. No matter what you think, I do love you. This isn’t about that. I just want to live my own life my way. And I know what I’m doing,” I added before I rounded his bed and marched towards the door.

  When I got back downstairs to the dining room, Devlin sat at the table in between Margot and Aubrey. From the smiles on their faces and the wistful, nay coquettish, looks in their eyes, I knew my husband had successfully won them over. He likely piled on the flattery, knowing that for people like my aunt and my cousin, that was easiest check to cash.

  Devlin glanced down at the suitcase in my hand. “Didn’t go very well, I take it?”

  “Father needs some time,” I hedged.

  He nodded and then stood, sending a heart-stopping smile to Margot and Aubrey. “Thanks for keeping me company, ladies,” he said.

  “Our pleasure,” Margot purred. Her blue gaze still cut me like a blade, though.

  Was that jealousy I saw?

  Dev and I stopped by Petit Paradis, my private residence on Father’s estate, on our way out, so that I could pack the clothes that I had purchased at Tempestuous, a clothing company that catered to women with unconventional figures like mine.

  It astounded me how little I wanted to take from my private sanctuary aside from those brand new clothes. I had once decorated this house with such excitement, starting out life ‘on my own’ and making all my own choices.

  But those choices hadn’t been mine. The life I was living hadn’t been mine. I had lived the life Father had wanted me to live, and did my best to make peace with it. All the things I bought, all the things that I used to think made me happy I no longer needed now that I had Devlin. I took my laptop, my new clothes, some toiletries and a photo album–the one that included all the photos from my childhood, and my photos with my mom–and we were out the door about a half-hour from the time we walked in.

  I packed what little I took into my car, and then I followed Devlin back to his apartment downtown. No matter how I felt about it, this would be my home for the foreseeable future. Maybe that had played a part in how much I wanted to take with me from Father’s estate. The downtown apartment wasn’t my home, and wouldn’t feel that way no matter how many of my belongings surrounded me.

  It reminded me that I needed to start house-hunting immediately.

  Devlin started dinner while I was putting away my things, which now included Darcy’s box of goodies. In said box I found a black silk robe, so I decided to wash away my frustrating day with a long shower. I had to move his stuff out of the way to put my toiletries on the shelf in the large tiled shower, which struck me as the most ‘married’ thing I had done yet. Aside from hanging about twenty pieces of clothing in one small corner of his huge walk-in closet (that was filled to capacity with his own tailored, designer clothes,) this was the first time our things had actually blended, side by side. This was what it meant to cohabitate, and I was now doing it with the sexiest man on the planet.

  I examined my peridot engagement ring under the misting spray of his shower. The large stone dominated my tiny hand, sparkling from the light overhead. What a weird couple of weeks it had been. It was like I had woken up in some alternate universe mere weeks ago, and there was no going back now.

  Truth was that I wanted to be here than anywhere else in the world. It was worth disappointing my family, losing my home and jeopardizing my future as the CEO of Cabot’s Fine Department Stores. Despite it all, I was happier than I’d ever been.

  I was even happier when the door opened and my brand new husband walked in. Our eyes met through the glass shower stall. He grinned as he unbuttoned his shirt. I watched as he undressed, revealing that amazing body for me before he opened the door and stepped into the shower to join me. He immediately took me into his arms. “Dinner’s ready,” he murmured against my ear before he started kissing my neck just below my ear–my ultimate weakness.

  “We should go eat it,” I murmured back, though food was the last thing on my mind as I felt him grow against me.

  “We should,” he agreed as his hands slid down the curve of my back and rested on each full hip. “It’ll get cold.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” I said as my hands made a similar path down his wet skin. He wasted no time hoisting me into his arms, and I locked my ankles behind his hips. Suddenly his lips were on mine, kissing me hard, as if we had to make up for all the times we couldn’t kiss.

  He braced me against the wall, flattening my back against the tile. “You make me crazy, Coralie,” he said between kisses. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

  It was high praise, given that he used to want women for a living–or at the very least, fake that he did.

  But he wasn’t faking anything with me as he slid up inside me. I cried out as he filled me. I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn’t think as he began to thrust powerfully, as if each stroke claimed me anew.

  It was all I had ever wanted. And I had it. I couldn’t think of a happier ending, or a better beginning. I kissed him hard, urging him on, until we were both raced crazily towards paradise. He finally buried himself with one last plunge and a primal yell. I wilted against him. We didn’t move or speak for a long moment afterwards. I felt him pulsate inside of me, echoing my own heartbeat.

  Babies, the angel on my shoulder whispered. That’s what comes next.

  The devil on my other shoulder and I both told her to shut the fuck up. One life-altering crisis at a time, please.

  Devlin cradled my face in his hand as he kissed me again. “I love you, Mrs. Masters,” he said. I melted even more. Coralie Masters. That’s who I was now. And I belonged only to him. I squeezed him tight inside my body, which made him growl as he dove his face into my neck. “So insatiable. I’m going to need food to keep up with you, girl.”

  I laughed and allowed him to untangle himself from my body so we could rinse ourselves under the lukewarm spray. He pulled me by the hand onto the plush bath mat, where he proceeded to dry me thoroughly with one of his large gray towels. Finally he helped me into the silk robe, which he closed and tied while his eyes were locked with mine. “Wrapping my present for later,” he said with that lopsided smirk I had grown to love. “A midnight snack,” he said before he touched the tip of his magnificent tongue to his nose.

  It made me laugh. He could always make me laugh.

  He tugged on some pajama bottoms before he led us to the dining room, where dinner waited. He lit a couple of candles while I poured some wine to enjoy with the grilled chicken breasts and steamed vegetables he had prepared, along with a small side salad. “And you cook, too. A man of many talents.”

  He chuckled as he sat in his seat and placed a napkin in his lap. “You learn to do a lot of things for yourself when you grow up without money.”

  My eyes fell. I supposed that was true. I learned to cook because I wanted to, not because I had to. Gretchen had taken care of my practical needs since I was a baby, so that I could spend my time getting the proper education and learn how to be a lady.

  So much for that.

  I dug into the feast before me. Though it was cold, the chicken had been spiced to perfection, with a splash of lime for a bit of a zing. The steamed veggies were just the right balance of soft and crisp, and he had grated fresh Parmesan on top.

  The salad was more than just lettuce, tomato and dressing. He included radishes, mushrooms, cucumber and c
elery. He garnished it with honey glazed nuts and bleu cheese crumbles and just a drizzle of vinaigrette. It was all perfectly proportioned, good food cooked well. “This certainly explains how you manage to look so good,” I teased with a grin.

  “That and the gym downstairs,” he agreed with a grin of his own. “Plus fucking is an excellent form of exercise.”

  I couldn’t argue that. I felt like I’d already lost ten pounds from our week-long marathon in Vegas. “After a few months as your wife, I should be svelte in no time.” I wondered momentarily if that was the plan.

  As if he knew it, Devlin’s eyes met mine. “You don’t have to change for me, Coralie.”

  I nodded. It harkened back to the song he sang to me in Vegas, saying I was perfect just the way I was.

  Still…

  “I just don’t want to disappoint you. If you got into this marriage expecting that I might change…,” I started, but he cut me off, sudden and sure.

  “I’m not your father. You don’t have to earn my love. It’s already yours.”

  I nodded again. That was another part of my life that was completely new.

  “I’ll give you Sandra’s number,” he said, referring to his housekeeper. “You can text her whatever you want added to the shopping list.”

  I took a big sip of wine. “You know, that might be one cost we can pare down if we need to. I’m not totally helpless around the house. I’m pretty sure I can keep it clean, and we can cook and do all the laundry ourselves.”

  He shrugged. “It fits in the budget for now. I don’t want to put Sandra out of work if I can help it.”

  I took a deep breath for courage. “It may be something to think about if it turns out I don’t keep my job.”

  Devlin slowly put his fork on the table. “Is that what your Father said?”

  I shook my head. “He wouldn’t do that to me. At least, I don’t think so. But it’s not Father I’m worried about.” Devlin sat back in his chair and waited. “I just don’t know how long we can work side by side with Oliver. You nearly came to blows today.”

  “That’s because he’s an entitled jackass,” Devlin bit out before he speared more chicken on the end of his fork.

  “Regardless, you can’t let him get to you. If he knows he can provoke you, he’ll keep doing just to force you out of the company. I’d rather us both leave entirely.”

  Devlin shook his head. “You’re not leaving Cabot’s,” he decided. “I’ve cost you enough already.”

  I reached for his hand. “You haven’t cost me anything I wasn’t willing to lose, Dev,” I said, employing his sister’s pet name for him. He immediately softened as a result.

  “Fine,” he agreed at last. “I’ll keep the peace. For now,” he added as he glared hard at me. “But he’s not going to stop pushing, Coralie. No matter how many lines you draw in the sand, he’s going to jump rope with each and every one.”

  “Maybe,” I conceded. “But that doesn’t change one damn thing. I’m in love with you. I’ve chosen you. And if they make me pick, I’m going to pick you.”

  He sighed as he tossed the fork onto the table and stood from his chair. He pulled me immediately into my arms and held me tight. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against my hair.

  “Yes, you do. You deserve everything.”

  He pulled back just a bit to take my face into his hands. “You are everything.”

  He planted a kiss on my lips before gathering me close. My robe slid to the floor, and just like that dinner was forgotten.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The rest of the week played out uneventfully. We went to work every morning. We made love every night. In between we managed to juggle Oliver. He went from the least overbearing boss I ever had to the most micromanaging dickhead he could be. He was in my office at least a dozen times a day, for stupid, silly things he used to let me handle on my own.

  He was particularly interested in the new marketing campaigns that starred none other than Devlin Masters, my new husband.

  “I still think it’s a mistake to put him in the middle of a high-profile marketing campaign until we know a little more about him,” Oliver said.

  “I know everything I need to know about him,” I snapped.

  “We’ll see,” was all Oliver would say, which pissed me off even more.

  Truthfully I didn’t really know Devlin all that well. For everything I did know, there were dozens more I didn’t, and that thought nagged at me way more than I wanted it to admit. I spent the better part of that first week trying to dig under Devlin’s many layers, but he gave away very little. Usually he distracted me, either by making love to me, or by playing beautiful music at his piano, usually naked, which somehow always ended in us making love as well.

  A long time ago I had dreamed of what it would be like to have a man in my life who couldn’t get enough of me. Now I had it.

  So naturally now I wanted more.

  I straddled his lap, my legs closed around his waist, as he sat at the piano, both of us naked and sweaty as we came down from our latest orgasm. He palmed my breast, tweaking the nipple as he took playful bites out of my skin. “I’d have never learned to play if you were around.”

  I smoothed his hair back with one hand. “When did you learn to play?”

  He studied me for a long moment. I knew that look well. He was calculating how much of his story he could share with me, and how that fit into all his ‘rules.’ He must have decided it was a harmless question because he finally answered me. “I started toying with the piano when we lived in Belfast,” he said. “I was fairly young, considering we left Ireland before my fourth birthday. The lady next door babysat me. It didn’t take her long to figure I’d behave and sit still as long as I could bang out notes on her old piano. She probably needed earplugs to get through it,” he added with a grin, which I mirrored. “I didn’t start taking official lessons until we moved to New York in 1990. We lived in Brooklyn, about a block away from this sweet Italian lady named Susan Faustino. For nearly ten years straight I spent four afternoons a week at her house. If 9/11 hadn’t happened, who knows where I might have ended up? I had already begun to dream of Julliard. And since I was still just a stupid kid, I thought I could make it happen.”

  I caressed his face. “What happened?”

  He sighed as he lifted me out of his lap. “My dad was a janitor in the towers. He didn’t make it out, obviously. His best friend decided he’d get my mom, Darcy and I out of the city before anything worse could happen. We all piled in his car, stopping to settle where we finally ran out of gas money. Hello, Las Vegas.” He was bitter as he said it. “Maybe Mama was afraid of being alone or something. I don’t know. But she married him within the year. That was when everything started to go wrong.”

  My heart ached for him. He had gone through so much, reaching all the way back to when he was a vulnerable adolescent. “I’m sorry, Devlin.”

  He nodded before he swung his legs around the bench to stand. “Maybe now you understand why I don’t like to talk about the past. We can’t change what’s done.”

  I followed him to the bar, where he poured himself a stiff drink. “I just want to learn more about you, honey. That’s all.”

  He didn’t even look at me. “And beat your father to the punch?”

  “Hey,” I said as I turned him to face me. “I don’t care what they find out. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.” In fact, his sad story made me love him even more. And, of course, he read me like a book.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Coralie,” he said softly. “I don’t want your pity. I’m no victim.”

  I nodded. “I get that. And it’s not pity. I just wish I could have been there for you.”

  His jaw clenched. “To save me?”

  I pulled his arms apart to step into his embrace. “To love you.”

  He studied me for a long moment with those clouded green eyes. Finally he lifted me up into a powerful embrace.

  We didn’t
talk about the past at all for the rest of the night.

  That weekend we invited Gus and Lucy over for dinner. We hadn’t talked much during the week following our return, mostly because Lucy had a lot of making up to do for the week we stole in Las Vegas. I had a glass of wine poured for her as soon as she walked in the door.

  “You know me too well,” she grinned as she reached for a hug.

  I turned to Gus, who held a big white box in his hands. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a belated wedding-slash-housewarming gift,” Lucy supplied. “Open it!”

  I carried it to the dining room table, where Lucy insisted that Devlin and I open the box together. Inside was a petite wedding cake with white fondant frosting and a cascade of dark red roses. It, too, had a top tier we could freeze. “Lucy, you shouldn’t have,” I told her before I gave her another big hug.

  “Any opportunity one has the chance to have cake and misses it is a sin. It’s in the Bible.” We laughed. “Besides, it’s your anniversary today. You’ve been married a whole week. Congratulations!”

  “Well, thank you!” I said as I directed them where to sit. The dining room table sat in front of a large glass window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. We faced west, beyond the downtown skyline to the Pacific beyond.

  “Now that’s a view,” Gus praised. “Great place,” he told Devlin, who nodded.

  “Thanks, we like it.”

  I bit my tongue. Lucy’s grin indicated she missed nothing.

  “To married life,” Gus toasted. We raised our glasses high before we drank.

  “How’s your mom?” I asked Lucy, who shook her head at once with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

  “You’d think that she’d be over the moon. I’m not fighting her on anything, yet she’s still driving me crazy. She wants this wedding to be perfect, whatever the hell that means.”

  “She did cave on one thing,” Gus gently reminded her.

  “Oh yeah,” Lucy grinned. “She’s going to let me wear the wedding dress I picked.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “How’d you manage that?”