“Last fucking night thanks to your bride.”
“Ooh, someone sounds like they’re a little pissed as well!” I tease.
“When are you going to make an honest woman out of that sweet girl?” Camden asks.
“After my probation is over.”
“That’s a long ass time,” Roman interjects. “You think she’s going to wait that long?”
Stone cuts his eyes at Roman. Those two are slowly but surely beginning to accept each other.
“She’ll wait.”
“Better hope so. Tiny is a keeper.”
“Her name is Ariana, asshole.”
Yeah, I guess they have a little work left to do. They’ll get there.
“Excuse me.” Someone knocks then pops their head into my cabin. “Hello?”
It’s my brother’s computer geek friend, Samar.
“Hey, Samar. Come on in.”
“Hey, there. I just wanted to tell you that everyone is seated and the officiant is ready.”
“Thanks, man. How’s your girl liking the ship?” Camden asks.
“She loves it. Thanks for inviting us and thank you for everything you did to get her over here from India. You guys are the best.”
“No thanks necessary, Samar. Glad you’re on board. I mean that literally and figuratively,” I say.
We all laugh.
“Well, brother. Let’s go get you married.”
I eagerly throw on my jacket and take a last minute swig of Roman’s very expensive scotch.
“Let’s do it!”
SLOAN
I smell river water and roses and freesias. I see small waves and seagulls and love around me.
The gauze fabric of my dress ripples in the wind behind me as we sail towards nowhere.
I look to my left and my right and see the people I love. My sister, Elizabeth, Tiny, my old coworkers from the pharmaceutical company, some of my design clients (minus one Mr. Prentis), and even both of my parents. Sitting next to each other with what I think are tears glistening in their eyes.
“And I, Cutter King, take thee, Sloan Pearson, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance.”
“And I, Sloan Pearson, take thee, Cutter King, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance.”
“And now the exchanging of the rings.”
Cutter slides a custom eternity band around my finger next to my engagement ring.
“With this Ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.
Then I slide a platinum and diamond band onto his left finger.
“With this Ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. I now pronounce you both man and wife. Sir, you may kiss your bride.”
Cutter wraps one of his hands around the side of my neck, claiming me in front of our entire ship full of guests, and kisses me with intense ownership and love.
“I love you, Mrs. King.”
My knees almost wobble. His kiss overpowers me. I’ve missed him over these last two days. I can’t believe we have to dance, and eat, and shake hands with over a hundred people, before he can be inside of me.
“I love you too, Mr. King.”
“That’s a good thing, because you’re going to have a pretty long punishment for making me bunk on the other side of this ship last night.”
“You promise?”
THE END
♡♡♡
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Acknowledgments
Special shout out to beta reader and super ninja Jessie Lynn, and a big thank you to every single reader who has taken a chance on me and my alphas. You all are awesome! Please keep reading. My alphas demand it!
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Gunslinger Excerpt
Take a peek at my latest flirty, sexy sports romance titled Gunslinger, and fall in love with alpha quarterback Saint Stevenson.
GUNSLINGER: A Quarterback Who Throws DEEP Risky Passes On The Field And Off...
I hate sports, and he is football royalty. I like quiet and predictable, but he's sex and swagger personified. I didn't particularly care for Saint Stevenson the first moment I laid eyes on him, but his warped brain seemed to process our initial meeting as foreplay.
I have a meticulous five year plan in place for myself and my career, but now this huge, cocky, self-absorbed quarterback who I've been assigned to at work is seriously f*cking it up.
He's the ultimate player on and off the field, and it doesn't make any sense that I'm falling hard and fast for the arrogant baller; but there doesn't seem to be anything about our love story that makes any sense at all.
SABRINA
A foolish person doesn't always recognize when she's crossed paths with someone she is destined to meet...
I slide myself back into my seat at the dinner table and begin nervously playing around with my order of shrimp scampi, which was left for me while I was in the restroom. I'm fidgeting around, because I'm a little uncomfortable in such a romantic setting like this with my coworker Jason. The man who I've been pining over pathetically for years, yet there's nothing even remotely romantic going on between us.
He looks up briefly to acknowledge my return, but then mouths the word "sorry" and continues a very spirited conversation on his cell phone. One that he's been having, for I swear, the last fifteen minutes, and frankly I'm bored out of my mind.
While everything about this restaurant screams date night: the lighting is
low, the tables are meticulously decorated with fine, modern details, and there are affectionate couples all around me. This has ended up being more of a working dinner (for him) rather than anything resembling a date. When am I ever going to learn to stop fantasizing that one day the two of us will fall in love and become the company's power couple? We work, and he definitely flirts, but nothing romantic happens past that. Like him asking me out on an actual date.
To pass the time I return a few emails on my phone, and soon become distracted when I notice a sudden shift in the energy of the restaurant. An energy which rises high above the low frequency buzz of casual dining in the room.
The faces of the waitstaff become more animated.
Their eyes enlarged.
Their whispers growing to the level of dense chatter.
I look around and notice what or rather who the cause is. A man has entered the restaurant, and he walks into the place with distinct purpose.
To be seen.
I try to look away and mind my own business, but like others around me, I can't help myself as I continue to track the man's movements.
I'm inexplicably drawn to him.
With confident strides he follows the hostess with complete bravado towards the bar in a pair of well-fitting jeans, a black tee, and a pair of aviator shades on. His outfit perfectly complimenting his muscular frame.
There are two other behemoths flanking both sides of him as if he's someone important. Someone in need of security. Although I'm not totally sure why he'd need them, because the man looks like he could probably knock them both out or anyone else who got in his path for that matter.
Being in the business that I am, and living in New York City, my first inclination is to assume that he's some sort of celebrity, but then I second-guess that theory. With my experience, I think I would recognize him if he was one, even though he's hiding himself behind his sunglasses.
The colossal stranger stops just short of a couple of feet from our table and speaks with the two men who are with him. All three of them start laughing, but the rumble of his laugh specifically echoes through my chest.
I quickly turn and stare back into my scampi. His proximity makes me feel uneasy. So uneasy that my heart begins rapidly beating inside of my chest, like a skittish small animal that recognizes when a predator is nearby.
I continue searching my bowl of scampi for shrimp, as if I'm digging for gold, but can still see the man's legs out of my peripheral vision. Denim clad, muscular, powerful legs.
I'm not sure how I know, but I can sense him watching me. Maybe because he's stood completely still for the last few seconds. Almost as if he's watching and waiting for me to look up at him. I know I shouldn't, but I go ahead and raise my eyes anyway. Just for a moment.
I don't know exactly what's going on behind those shades of his, but a slow almost disquieting grin spreads across his face, when he catches me looking. Then he starts walking.
He walks behind me with heavy, considerable strides and as he passes by, I swear that I can feel one of his fingers briefly skimming the back of my neck, close to my hair. The brazen nature of his act startles me, and my spine is on fire. It's as if he's branded me with just one slight touch.
My fork drops from my hand with a clank on the table in surprise as my heart continues to thump powerfully. I gingerly place my hand on my chest to calm myself. For a split second, I wonder if I'm having a panic attack until I realize how ridiculous that is. How ridiculous this whole thing is. I don't even know this man.
I look across the table at Jason wondering if he notices what's going on. Thinking that maybe I've screwed up the possibility of this whole evening by taking such obvious notice of another man. I mean the whole point of me being here is to hopefully have Jason see me as more than just the "girl at work," but as usual, he's still in the middle of a heated discussion on his phone, completely unaware of anything going on around us. So that's why I decide that it might be okay if I turn my head for a moment to catch a glimpse of the intoxicating stranger one more time, and I'm amazed at the sight of him when I do.
He's magnificent. Even from the back.
And everyone in here knows it.
Including him.
Women who are sitting with each other or are with their significant others are all gawking at him. Repositioning themselves. Poking out their chests and sucking in their stomachs. Men who evidently seem to recognize his face are giving him respectful head nods. Even the hostess seems to have an extra hitch in her step knowing that this majestic beast is watching her walk from behind.
Who the heck is this guy?
"How's your scampi?"
Yikes. I didn't even notice that Jason's call was finally over.
"Oh," I fumble over my words. "Umm, it's okay."
"Just okay? You don't like it?"
"Well they were a little skimpy on the shrimp."
"I can order you something else," he offers apologetically.
"No, I better get going. I have some work to finish at home."
"Crap, I'm sorry, Sabrina. I wasn't much company tonight was I? I've been a little distracted for the past few days with a new account, which is already a pain in my ass. That's what that call was about."
Jason is always distracted with work. It's really nothing new, but it's also why he's such a great business manager. The best one at the company in my opinion. He's always going above and beyond for his clients.
"Anyone I know?"
"Some new alternative band out of Cali."
"Oh yeah, I heard a little about them from Marisol and none of it was good."
"Exactly. They're already giving me a headache and the ink is barely dry on their paperwork. I'm thinking about passing them over to Abby."
"Would you like me to handle them?"
I volunteer to take on Jason's group, not because I really want another client on my roster, but because I'm a little concerned that the first person he thought to throw extra work to was Abby and not me.
"I have no interest in you giving me the evil eye in the office everyday," Jason smiles. "And I know that would happen if I gave you this headache."
"But you'd give them to Abby?"
Jason tilts his head thoughtfully. "Only because I know one of her clients are about to jump ship to go with the Frazier Group. That's the only reason, Sabrina. I know you would do a good job with them if they were yours."
"Oh, okay." I say a little embarrassed that I even questioned him about it. Like I'm fishing for approval.
"You know you can email me anytime with whatever questions you may have about your accounts. You don't have to wait for these random dinner meetings of ours. I know it seems like I'm hectic right now, but my door is always open to you."
"I know, Jason, or what I mean to say is thank you. I will definitely reach out to you if I need to." I fumble awkwardly over my words as Jason looks at me as if I'm some sort of adorable little puppy or cute little sister.
Not an ounce of heat in his eyes.
In two seconds, I think he was about to pat my head.
"It's a shame your food wasn't good and mine is cold. This place was so highly Zagat rated." He frowns. "We'll have to pick a different location next time."
Jason's polite words don't impact me like they normally would. Not when he's just given me the big brother/little sister look just now, not to mention that I've been set a tad bit off kilter by the hot mystery man who I'm pretty sure just touched me on purpose.
"Okay," I reply, knowing very well that I don't need a repeat performance of tonight. Not only did we not get any work done, but we aren't even remotely close to a love connection. What the hell is the point of another dinner like this one?
At some point, I'm going to have to throw up the white flag, but unfortunately I'm a creature of habit. Day after day I eat the same things, listen to the same music, talk to the same friends, watch the same television shows, and yearn for the same man. That's just the way I'm built.
Especially
when I have friends like Marisol. She's my superior at work and it was she who came up with the bright idea of having Jason mentor me as a way to ramp things up a notch. Since executing her plan he and I have been on three "working" dinners. Unfortunately none of them have produced many results, romantically or professionally for that matter.
"I'm going to go talk to the manager about your dinner, pay the check, and then go get the car. You wait here okay? No need for us both to walk that far."
"Sounds good," I nod with a smile.
It's not easy finding parking in the middle of Manhattan on theatre night, or any night in the city for that matter, but Jason refuses to pay parking lot prices after seven. He's thrifty like that. So we drove around for fifteen minutes to find a parking space on a street that is at least six city blocks away from the restaurant. That's why it's going to take him a good while getting the car.
It's such a gorgeous night though, it would have been kind of romantic if we had walked together to get it, but that's me trying to wish this into a date when it's anything but. For the few minutes that Jason and I did speak with each other, prior to him receiving his phone call, all the two of us managed to discuss tonight was work. Nothing personal. And I'm not sure, regardless of how much I wish it were different, we ever will talk about anything more than what we do for a living. It just may be all that we have in common.
While I wait for Jason to return from his long trek, from the shadows of the private rooms in the back of the restaurant, I see the tallest man on the planet moving towards my location with great purpose.
The King Brothers Boxed Set Page 62
