Worth Any Cost

by Brenna Aubrey

  "But...in those days, you hoped to build your dream game and have millions of people enjoy it. And now here it is, reality."

  "Yeah. But one man can't do it all."

  "Not even you." I leaned away to get a better look into his face. He appeared pale, drawn. There were circles under his gorgeous, dark eyes. I smoothed my hand across the whiskered cheek. "That's why you surround yourself with kick-ass, awesome people and jettison the losers. If they don't share your vision, let them go. Like, sadly, you may have to do with Alan. But if they rock, hold them close. Like...Jordan, for example."

  His jaw tensed under my hand, and those dark eyes hardened like black ice. Nevertheless, I wasn't sure which mention brought about that reaction--his IT director or Jordan? Maybe both. To ease the tension, I away, tilting my head to see his computer screen. He reached over and closed it. It locked with a final click, and I stared at him, raising a brow.

  "Business BS. I really do need to stop for the night."

  "Yeah. Or you'll never sleep. You'll toss and turn for a few hours like you did last night. And the night before. Then you'll finally give up and sneak out of bed at about three or four a.m., hoping I won't notice."

  He grimaced. "Guilty."

  "You aren't sleeping. You're working as hard as ever. You're starting to look raggedy."

  His brows rose, and he appeared indignant. "Raggedy?"

  "Yes." I nodded. "You've got a lot of pressure on you. And with this wedding--"

  His eyes narrowed. "We are not delaying the wedding date."

  "I didn't say we should. I am worried about you, though. About your health."

  He laughed, leaning back in his chair and patting his lap. "I'm perfectly healthy. Want me to prove it to you right now?"

  I grinned. "Now, now." I gently sank onto his lap, settling in to get comfortable as his arms encircled my waist, and he kissed my cheek. "Just don't take good health for granted."

  "I don't," he murmured. He didn't have to say the rest. After what we'd been through the year before, it didn't need to be spoken between us. We'd learned the hard way that good health wasn't something that anyone should assume they had until it was too late.

  "Let's go to bed." I kissed him. "I'll give you a massage or we can sit in the hot tub if you want. Nice and relaxing. You need a good night's sleep for once."

  He smiled. "The hot tub sounds good. I think I can be persuaded if you promise to wear that black and white bikini."

  I winked at him. "Maybe I'll go commando."

  He bit his lip. "Even better."

  Minutes later, we were in the hot tub off the main deck of our house. We kept the lights off, since that deck looked out on the back bay. In the dark, it was sufficiently private, and we enjoyed the silence, watching the lights on the water while the hot water bubbled around us.

  He scooted me next to him and put an arm around my waist, relaxing with a satisfied sigh as my bare skin pressed against his.

  "So...was it supposed to be a surprise?" I finally asked one of my burning questions.

  "What?"

  "The new quest."

  He was quiet for a moment, resting his head against a cushion on the deck behind him. "There are new quests with every game update. You're going to have to be more specific."

  "Lord Sisyphus's Wedding Quest."

  He laughed. "That's actually a good idea."

  "So was it yours?"

  "Was?" He lifted his head toward me, brow furrowing. "I'm confused."

  "The quest is in the game already. Heath found it and showed it to me."

  He frowned. "Huh. Maybe I missed that memo."

  "You mean you're not the one to okay every single new quest that's implemented?" I teased.

  "And you think I'm busy now?" He laughed.

  "Did someone sneak it in as a surprise, then?" I leaned my cheek against his warm shoulder.

  "I have no idea. Honest to God. Someone must be playing a joke."

  "Well, the wording of the quest describes the imminent marriage of Lord Sisyphus and 'Princess Emma.'"

  He turned to me and grinned, his head sinking back onto the pillow, his arm tightening around my waist. "Lord Sisyphus is a lucky sonuvabitch. Princess Emma is hot, but she's sassy and smart, too. With a heavy dose of sarcasm. And did I mention she's hot? Especially when she's sitting next to me, naked."

  But even with that come-on, I wasn't about to let this go. It wasn't every day I could get him talking about in-game quests. "So what do you think the quest is about?"

  He shrugged. "How he hires a wedding planner? How his fiancee is apathetic to all his grand schemes and plans to write her name in the sky?

  "Pfft," I said. "Very funny. I'm not apathetic just because I don't quite share your enthusiasm."

  He paused for a long moment, appearing to be thinking. "I'll see what I can find out by asking around at the office tomorrow."

  "Okay. I'm very excited. Can't you tell?" I turned and nibbled on his collarbone.

  He smiled, kissing my forehead.

  I was suddenly reminded of my earlier conversation with April. "So..."

  He turned to me when I hesitated. Should I ask him about Jordan and work right now when he seemed to finally be relaxing? I blinked. If I wanted him to unwind enough to get a good night's sleep, bringing it up now seemed counterproductive.

  I made a note to ask him tomorrow instead.

  "So?" he repeated, as if prompting me to continue.

  "So, uh, is this helping you relax?" I adlibbed.

  "Yeah...it is." He took a deep breath and then let it go as if to convince me that he was successfully unwinding.

  "Good. I thought it might. Maybe all we need is to get you on a relaxing routine at night."

  "You know what else would be super helpful to get me to fall asleep, though?"

  I raised my brows. "A massage?"

  "An orgasm."

  I laughed. "You are so fucking predictable."

  He tugged on me, pulling me into his lap so that I was straddling him. "You like it that way."

  I kissed him again. "I do."

  And I did...that stability, the predictability, was my home. Adam was my constant, my lodestar. He was the solid rock beneath my ever-shifting sea. And he wasn't quite himself these days. I knew that. He'd taken too much on himself, and I could tell that we needed to have that conversation, too. But not tonight.

  Not tonight.

  Chapter 7

  Adam

  With the weekend finally here, I was stuck at home as a promise to Emilia that I'd at least take one day--twenty-four whole hours, as she put it--away from work. Which meant no phone calls, no texts, no emails, no laptop.

  In keeping with the spirit of that promise, I set aside the day for wedding plans instead. She'd try to talk me out of it and divert to some idea of having fun. I'd satisfy her with a trip to the beach or a nice dinner out, later.

  But the morning would be all wedding, all the time, whether she protested or not.

  Ironically, it was me who caught her working when I popped my head into her study after I was done with my morning workout. "Is that a textbook I see?"

  She slammed it shut, lowering her legs from where they rested on her desk. "Pleasure reading. Purely for my own enjoyment, I assure you."

  I padded across the floor, bare toes crushing the soft, loopy carpeting beneath my feet. Snatching up the book she'd been reading, I peered at her. "And how are you enjoying Rapid Interpretation of EKGs?"

  She grimaced at me--like she normally did when I called her on her antics. "Uhh. It's fascinating. Can't put it down. Can't wait to see how it ends."

  I raised a skeptical brow, and she began to laugh.

  "Know what else is fascinating?" I said with a meaningful grin. "Our wedding plans."

  Her smile drooped, but she didn't say anything.

  I held out my hand. "Come with me, young lady."

  When she locked her fingers around mine, I tugged her out of her chair. She followed me acros
s the hall into my office. "I'd be more excited if you were taking me into the bedroom for a booty call."

  "Later."

  "Pfft."

  "I wanted to know your thoughts on colors." Pulling out the wedding planner's notebook, I turned to her.

  "Colors?" Her expression clouded. "Let's do something simple. It's the whole reason we decided to fly people to St. Lucia in the first place, remember? We have the hotel all to ourselves for our party." She turned pleading eyes on me--big, brown, beautiful pleading eyes that usually got her exactly what she wanted. Usually. "Wouldn't it be so much better to have the wedding planner connect with the events coordinator there? Since both of us are so busy. Those two can get it all done. We show up and have a blast. Simple as that."

  Frustration rose up inside me, and I clenched my jaw, trying to be patient. "It's our wedding, Emilia."

  She drew away, running a hand idly up and down my arm. "Okay. I'll be good."

  I smirked at her. "I don't believe that for a second."

  "Well..." She gave me a flirtatious wink. "Win-win for you, then. You like it when I'm bad."

  "I do...but not right now. We have to make some important decisions." I pointed to the chair beside the one I was sinking into. "Sit."

  "The most important things are that we share with our family and friends, we have fun, and we come home husband and wife. Right?"

  I fumbled through the binder for the correct page. "It should be the perfect day. It will set the tone for the rest of our life together."

  And she didn't know this yet, but the ceremony and party afterward were going to make up for all the other bullshit surrounding this wedding. I would make sure of that. If we ended up having to sign that piece-of-shit document after all my struggles against it, I was determined that a spectacular wedding would ease that difficulty.

  She sighed, crossing her legs and slouching in the seat beside me like the impatient student at the back of the classroom. "It's a party. People are going to eat, dance, and get drunk. Take a lot of funny pictures. Then you and I are going to say some very sweet things to each other, dance, force-feed each other cake, and drink champagne before going up to our room alone to screw like bunnies."

  I threw her sharp look, and her brows rose halfway up her forehead. This was the disapproving glance I gave an underperforming employee or a friend who was being annoying or over the top (cough--Jordan--cough). The woman with whom I planned to share the rest of my life didn't typically receive it.

  She blinked, appearing puzzled at my reaction. When I remained silent, she stammered, "I--I was--I was thinking. Wouldn't it be fun to randomly show up at the airport with only our passports and the clothes we're wearing? We could pick any destination and fly off there...a few weeks later, we return rested, tanned, and married. Wouldn't that be cool?"

  Tense silence hung in the air between us, and she frowned while I simmered with irritation at her words.

  I finally set aside the notebook and folded my arms across my chest. "So your mom would be okay with that? And my family? You, yourself, said that the most important thing is that we share this day with our family and friends. You actually think they'd be fine with missing that moment in our lives?" I clenched my jaw so that my head hurt. "Or maybe it's not as important to you?"

  She flushed. "Of course it's important to me. And--" She took a deep breath and let it go, as if trying to curb her anger before it flared up. Not unlike what was happening with me. "I'm sorry. I was spitballing. I didn't mean to make you mad." Her eyes flicked away from mine to focus on the notebook I'd set aside. "It is very important to me. But the wedding planning kind of stresses me out."

  "That's why I'm handling it," I said quietly.

  She nodded, silent. I relaxed my arms and picked up the notebook again.

  She leaned toward me and put her hand on my leg. "You okay?"

  Yeah, I was stiff. These days, tension was a constant. Her eyes opened wide, and she licked her lips.

  "It's the most important day of our lives." My tone of voice cut like a knife. Even I could hear it. She visibly swallowed.

  "There will be a lot of important days in our lives." She tilted her head.

  Resentment boiled up, making my skin hot. "So you don't care?"

  She pulled away. "Of course I care." She shifted in her seat, watching me closely. "But I'd be thrilled beyond words to become your wife at the courthouse or some cheesy chapel in Vegas, too."

  She was trying, but her words were doing nothing to stave off my irritation. "Okay, so...you're down for Vegas, then? Wedding performed by Elvis? I hear they have drive-up chapels."

  She made a face. "You know what I mean...or maybe you don't. I only mean that getting married to you will be the reward in and of itself." She reached out for my hand, but I pulled it back. "I'm excited, and that's all I need. You. Me. Some champagne. A person to perform the ceremony. Our loved ones. All the other stuff is extraneous."

  "All the other stuff makes great memories. And pictures, too..."

  She wilted into her chair. "Whatever you decide on will be wonderful."

  "So if I decide I'd love to have you walk down the aisle in a chain mail bikini?"

  She glared. "You'd better not."

  I finally let out a laugh. Her mouth quirked as she watched me. She seemed to be studying me, as if she'd noticed something for the first time.

  "What?" I asked.

  She shook her head and shrugged. "Nothing. I had no idea you were so into weddings. I mean, you never seemed to be all that interested in the details of the weddings we've attended together."

  "I want this day to be worthy of you."

  Her forehead smoothed suddenly, and she bit her lip. "That...that's the sweetest thing ever. So thoughtful." She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me to her. I returned the hug, landing a light kiss on her neck, relishing the vanilla smell of her skin.

  I closed my eyes, reaffirming that vow. It would be worthy of her. It would be my way to show her what she really meant to me, shitty contract or not. If I had to give in to that, then this was something I could control. And hopefully, this epic wedding would help her forget all this other crap--paperwork and contracts that had no place in a wedding and a marriage.

  Every time I thought of it, it made my blood boil.

  "So tell me what we're deciding today," she said after a long pause and a significant look at the binder.

  I snatched up a pen to take notes. "I need to know what color palette you like best and how many bridesmaids."

  "Bridesmaids?" She glanced up at me, as if afraid to give me an answer I'd disapprove of. "I was only going to ask one person."

  "Kat?" I pulled out a pencil and pad of paper, ready to take notes.

  She fidgeted. "No. Um. Heath."

  I paused, running that through my mind before turning to write it down on the wedding planner's to-do list. Emilia bent toward me to get a closer peek at the list.

  "How do you have time for all this? Is this what you've been working on at night when you get out of bed?"

  I grinned. "You think I'm cheating on you with the wedding planner's notebook?"

  "I think you're trying to do her job for her. We are paying her good money."

  I shook my head. "She's doing her job just fine. But she needs this info from us, and you aren't replying to her emails."

  She shook her head and glanced away. "Sorry. But...you are looking a little tired and a lot stressed--"

  "I'm fine," I snapped then took a deep breath and ordered myself to calm down. "No offense, but Heath is going to be one ugly-ass maid of honor."

  "He's the dude of honor. Or maybe we can call him the bride's bro." She laughed uncertainly, as if nervous from my outburst. "Think how cute it will be to see Heath and Jordan walk down the aisle together. And cuddling together in all the pictures."

  My mouth twisted. "I haven't asked Jordan to be best man."

  She did a double take. "Oh? Why not? Who are you going to ha
ve? William?"

  I shrugged. My cousin was an option, but it wasn't a job he'd enjoy. He'd do it, though, if I asked him. Shuffling through the pages in the binder, I searched for a way to change the subject while still getting all the info I needed for the wedding plans.

  My hand touched on the envelope full of color palettes. Perfect. "The next thing on the list is colors." I pulled them out of the envelope and laid them on the desk in front of her.

  I honestly didn't give a shit which one she chose. As long as she chose something. Something she loved.

  She tore her eyes away from me mid-scrutiny and stared at the color palettes. I pointed to the first card. "This is all jewel tones, four different colors. She says that's nice and dramatic for a holiday wedding. Or we have something more seasonable--light blue and silver or red and white. Then there's the all-metallic palette."

  She rubbed her neck, and I swear she almost shrugged. If she had, I would have lost it. But she didn't. Then she pointed to the last card. "I like the silver and gold. That's pretty together, and it looks nice for a New Year's Eve wedding, too. Festive."

  I let out a sigh. Good. She was finally being cooperative. "I liked that one best, too."

  "Great, then let's go with that one. We all done?"

  "Yeah..."

  Her grin widened as she stood up. "Okay. I'm going to force you to have fun now. You're going to be in San Jose for half a week. You owe me fun before you leave and I have to go days without seeing you."

  Emilia grabbed my hands and pulled me out of my chair.

  "Fun." I sneered, just to mess with her as I followed her out of the room and down the hall.

  "Yeah, you seem quite allergic these days." She turned around and walked backward in front of me so she could face me, still holding my hands, as we headed toward the stairs.

  I shook my head. "Makes me break out in a horrible rash."

  "Unless the fun is sex." She laughed. "Then you're not allergic at all."

  I stopped, breaking our forward momentum. "Sex? That's a great idea...I wish I'd thought of it." I towed her along with me toward the bedroom.

  "You're always thinking of it." She tugged back, laughing.

  I pushed forward, swooping up, and pinning her against the wall. Holding her head in place firmly, I kissed her hard. "How'd you know?"

  She laughed and pushed me away. "Later. Consider it your reward for going out and spending the day doing something fun with me."

  I followed her down the stairs, aware that though she'd said those words laughingly, there was a spark of truth in them. She thought I required a reward for leaving work and spending time with her. A normal day of aimless fun.