“Let’s celebrate in Paris,” I say when we’re both laying on our backs, breathing heavily. “I’ll take you to Le Cygne Bleu for dinner. You can wear that gorgeous silver dress you didn’t get to wear yet.”
She reaches over and touches the silver dress, feeling the sleek material between her fingers.
“I have to work,” she says sadly. “I don’t have any more vacation days.”
“Will they give you another week off if I donate another ten million dollars?”
She laughs like I’m kidding. “Yeah, probably.”
I grab my phone and dial my accountant.
She springs up to a seated position, her bare breasts hanging down and looking so damn good I’m ready to go again. “What are you doing?”
My accountant answers and I tell him to donate anotherten million dollarsonlyif they’ll let Maya have another week off.
Her mouth drops as I hang up the phone.
“Did you really just do that?”
“Looks like you can come to Paris, oui? Or, do you have any other excuses?”
She shakes her head as she grins at me. “I guess we found out who the mystery donation came from.”
“Busted,” I say with a smirk. “So, you’ll come? They have the best raspberry mousse on the planet.”
“Okay,” she says, giving me that knockout smile. “I’d love to.”
I lean up, cup her bare breast, and kiss her with so much passion that we drop back onto the bed and do it all over again.
If we flew commercial, we would have already missed the flight, but I have my own jet, so I can take all the time in the world with my new incredible fiancé.
Next stop, Paris.
EPILOGUE
Adrian
One year later…
The Aurelia is just as stunning as ever when we step out of the limo for the first day of our honeymoon.
This is the first time I’m walking through the grand marble archway with my wife on my arm.
Maya Drake.
That wonderful name wrecks me. Every time I hear someone say it, a rush of possessive pride lights me up from the inside.
This amazing woman is my wife. She’s all mine.
We’re back where it all began—The Empire Suite at The Aurelia—but this time, it’s not two strangers on the edge of something new. This time, it’s coming full circle.
This time, our love is cemented into something permanent. The rings on our fingers are proof of that.
Jericho greets us warmly, smiling as he rushes down themarble stairs. He looks like the kind of guy who meticulously irons his socks before work. He beams when he sees us.
“Mr. and Mrs. Drake,” he says with a genuine smile, shaking my hand vigorously. “Welcome home.”
Home.
