Guarded King (Empty Kingdom #3)

Epilogue

CHLOE

W ith a hand on my back, Roman guides me through the large glass doors.

The gallery is full of people with champagne flutes in hand as they admire the paintings hanging throughout the space.

Excitement prickles over my skin. I can’t believe this moment is here. So much has changed in the year since I moved in with Roman.

If I thought my heart was full before, it’s bursting now.

I look up at Roman’s too-handsome face. “Let’s find Dad and Carol.”

Lips curving, he nods toward the bar. “Looks like they’re holding court over there.” He clasps my hand in his big one and leads me toward the small group gathered around the guest of honor.

“Chloe,” Dad calls when he sees me, a wide smile making his eyes crinkle.

The people around him part, and I throw my arms around him. Breathing in the familiar scents of paint and turpentine has joy radiating through me.

“I’m so proud of you,” I whisper in his ear.

He squeezes me tight. “I owe it to you, love. You took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself. I’d be spoiling you now if you didn’t already have someone doing that job for me.”

He lets me go as Roman steps up beside me.

With his hand out, the beautiful man who escorted me tonight says, “Congratulations, Rick. Looks like opening night is a success.”

“More than I could have imagined.”

Carol embraces me next, then steps back and holds me by the upper arms. “You look absolutely stunning.”

My cheeks heat, and I glance down, smoothing my hands over my blue satin sheath dress. “This old thing?”

She laughs. “You make that old thing look brand new.” With a sigh, she smiles at Dad. “Don’t they make a beautiful couple?”

His eyes are bright with happiness and affection. “They do.”

Roman slides his arm around my waist and pulls me close. I miss what he says in response, because even though we’ve been together publicly for the last twelve months, the smooth possessiveness of the move still has the power to make the world around me fade away.

Except I don’t want to miss any of tonight. I gaze around at the walls of the gallery, at the paintings of New York displayed on the various surfaces. The show is on the smaller side, since Dad still has limitations. But the finite supply only seems to increase the demand.

Since his Empty Kingdom piece was featured in Forbes , there’s been a surge of interest in his work. Because he had to begin again from scratch, he was forced to start a waiting list. That, in turn, only made people more eager.

When this gallery reached out asking if they could host a showing of his work, Dad jumped at the chance. A lot of these paintings are already spoken for, and from the hum in the room, I get the feeling that those that aren’t will be taken by the end of the night.

“Shall we look around?” Roman asks a moment later.

I nod. “I can’t wait to see everything hung up.”

He snags a glass of champagne from a passing server and hands it to me before grabbing one for himself.

“We’ll be back soon,” I say to Dad and Carol, who are sipping from their own flutes and smiling happily as more well-wishers appear.

Roman wraps a warm, sure hand around mine and leads me into the crowd.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this—the sensation of dreams coming true. How it feels to chase after them instead of pushing them away, too scared to follow in case they leave me adrift and alone.

Now I’m standing beside the man I love as I take in Dad’s artwork displayed on the walls of one of Manhattan’s premier galleries. This is a dream I never even knew I had.

I’m still feeling my way when it comes to my own art. A year ago, Roman gave me a choice: to come back and work for him, stay with Wright Construction as a liaison, or look for another job. Each came with a proviso: I was expected to pursue my own dreams at the same time.

I chose to stay in my liaison role. I’m not sure how productive either Roman or I would be if I returned to working for him, considering how hard it is for us to keep our hands off each other. Staying at Wright Construction seemed the safer option.

He also offered me the option of leaving work completely and pursuing art full time with his support. I quickly removed that choice from the pool. As much as I love him, as much as I know he loves me, I need my independence. I need to know I can take care of myself.

He understands that too.

Which is why he shows me his love by standing beside me at every turn. He doesn’t hold me back, and he doesn’t lead the way so I can follow. He holds my hand, keeping me stable when I step outside my comfort zone or decide to color outside the lines I once drew around my life.

Some of my paintings now hang on the wall of True Brew—both the original shop in Brooklyn and the new one in the foyer of Genesis-1.

I’ve even sold a few pieces. I’ve found a niche, creating portraits of the people who fill the streets of New York. Nothing draws us closer than the touch of human connection; that moment when we look into another person’s face and see our own existence mirrored there.

Roman thinks I love painting people so much because, subconsciously, I want to populate the empty streets of my favorite of Dad’s paintings. The one that still graces the foyer of King Plaza.

Maybe he’s right. Dad paints the beauty of the city and I paint the beauty of the people who call it home.

My portrait of Roman hangs in my art studio, which is located inside his penthouse. He surprised me before I moved in by having one of the extra bedrooms converted. I was planning to hang the painting I did of the little boy, half Roman, half me, next to it. But when I showed it to him, he insisted on hanging it in the living room.

A reminder of a dream we share. A dream of us.

Now, as I nestle against his side and smile up at a painting of Central Park at dusk, with twilight shadows stretching across the grass and the skyline tinged with the soft glow of fading sunlight, my whole life feels like a dream fulfilled.

“Chloe.” Lola rushes up and throws her arms around me. Jamie, carrying a wiggling Christopher, grins at me from behind her.

I laugh as I disentangle myself from her. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“As if we’d miss it. Oh my goodness, your dad’s paintings are amazing. Where is he? I need to say hello. Then we’ll come and find you again.”

I point them in the right direction, and as Lola rushes off with her husband and son in tow, I smile up at Roman.

We have barely a minute to ourselves before a steady stream of friends and family appear. Sophie and her boyfriend, Marco, have come to support dad. Ethan, who’s become a good friend, and his brand-new fiancée, Caitlyn, are here too. Along with Cole and Delilah with Lottie, Tate and Violet, who were married six months ago, and Beverly and Miles, who have started talking about moving in together.

It’s enough to have my throat tightening and my eyes stinging.

By the end of the night, I’m an emotional wreck in the best possible way.

Now, in the back of the car, as Phillip takes us home through the late-night traffic and I’m cuddled up to Roman, I’ve never felt more content.

“Happy?” His voice is a deep rumble against my ear where it’s pressed to his chest.

I let out a soft sigh. “I don’t think anything could make me happier.”

The chuckle he lets out vibrates through me. “Is that a challenge?”

Tipping my head back, I meet his gaze. What I see in his expression makes my heart swell. It’s full of love and heat and a possessiveness that makes my pulse speed up.

I give him a coy smile. “There’s only one thing that could make me happier right now.”

His gaze darkens as he drifts his thumb over my bottom lip. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

My tongue darts out to taste his skin, and when his breath catches, a thrill shivers through me.

“The one thing that could make me happier right now is… a big bowl of ice cream.”

I squeal as he drags me over him, positioning me so that my knees are on either side of his thighs and my core is centered over the hard ridge in his pants. “I’ll give you cream, but it won’t be cold. It’ll be very hot, and you can have as much of it as you want.”

The way his mouth curls up at the corners and the smile lines around his eyes deepen only makes me happier. I don’t have time to admire the expression much, though, because in the next moment, he’s kissing me, and I’m swept up in the taste of him.

When my eyes flutter open, it’s still dark in our room, but the glowing digits of the bedside clock tell me it’s just before dawn.

My body is pleasantly achy from our exertions—Roman was even more intense than usual, making me come over and over before finally letting himself go.

I should have slept for hours longer. Instead, I have an urge to get up and watch the sun rise over the city.

Doing my best not to disturb the sleeping man beside me, I slide out of bed, wrap a robe around myself, and pad quietly out of the room.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, the faintest streak of pink and gold brightens the horizon. I can’t help but smile as the first of the sun’s rays brush the tops of the buildings while the streets below and Central Park remain shrouded in shadow.

I sense Roman behind me rather than hear him. That prickle of heat against my skin, the warmth that infuses my body. I lean back before he even speaks, knowing he’ll be there to pull me against him.

His chest is bare, but he’s wearing pajama pants.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” I say, resting my hands on his forearms.

“I’m surprised you’re up. I thought I exhausted you last night.”

I laugh, even as my core clenches at the memory. “You did.”

“Something on your mind, then?” He rests his chin on my head and the two of us watch the new day unfolding in front of us.

“Nothing bad. Just… happiness, I think. I feel so full of it; it’s making me restless. Maybe I need to do some painting.”

“Maybe.” His voice sounds thoughtful.

I angle my face up to see his expression. His eyes are dark when they meet mine.

“Are you happy?” I ask softly. My life has changed in so many ways over the last year, yet his really hasn’t. He’s still the CEO, and he still works hard, though nowhere near as much as he did. His relationship with his family is still developing, still growing deeper.

But essentially, his life is the same apart from having a live-in girlfriend.

“I’m not sure happy is the word I’d use to describe it.”

My heart does a little stutter. He’s not happy?

He releases me, then guides me by my shoulders until I’m facing him. With a tender touch, he strokes my hair back from my face.

“The first time I saw your smile, when you were standing in that elevator next to Lena,” he says, “there was a part of me that knew I would never want to stop seeing it. That’s why I was so terrified when I found you standing outside my office like a damn angel come to tempt me.”

I blink up at him, nerves rioting in my stomach, because I don’t understand what any of this has to do with why he’s not happy anymore.

His lips curve, and he dusts his thumb over my mouth. “That turned out to be true, but I’ll never regret allowing myself to be tempted. You showed me that I was punishing myself for Dad’s mistakes, that love isn’t a weakness, that it’s what makes us stronger.”

Reassured, I rise onto my toes and press a kiss to the bare skin over his heart. “You’re so strong because you have so much love inside you. You just didn’t realize it.”

“Remember when I asked you if you’d fight with me?”

I nod slowly. “I said I would if you wanted me to.”

His smile is gone now, and his eyes burn with an intensity that sets my body alight.

In one quick move, he drops to his knees and presses his forehead to my stomach.

My pulse leaps. “Roman?”

He looks up at me, and I stroke my fingers through his dark hair, my mind a blur of confusion.

His throat works on a swallow. “Happy isn’t the word I’d use to describe how I feel because how I feel is so much more than that. My life changed the moment I met you. You knocked down the walls I’d built around myself and brought warmth and light and love with you when I was determined to keep all of those things at arm’s length.”

A lump forms in my throat. “I’m so glad.”

He reaches into the pocket of his pajama pants and pulls out a ring, one that glitters brightly in the rays of sun that are just starting to reach through the window. Heart thrashing, I cover my mouth with both hands and stare down at the huge diamond surrounded by tiny turquoise stones.

“I want you by my side, fighting with me, Chloe.” His voice has gone husky. “And I want to be by yours, fighting just as hard. I convinced myself I was fine going through life alone, but I was so fucking wrong it’s laughable. My heart’s been yours since the second I saw you. You smiled, and just like that, everything changed. Every damn day, I fall harder for you, and that’s never going to stop. So please, sweetheart, be my wife. Let me show the world just how much I love you.”

Tears drip hot down my cheeks, and he stands, pulling me into his arms. I go up on my toes and kiss him, putting all my love and all my passion and all my dreams for our future into it.

When I finally pull back, my lips feel swollen in the best kind of way.

“Is that a yes?” His pale gray eyes burn into me.

My heart beats like wings against my ribcage, as if it’s a bird wanting to break free—but only so it can fly to him. “Loving you helped me dream again. Loving you reminded me how to take risks. You have my whole heart, Roman. You always will. And nothing would make me happier than marrying you.”

He takes my hand and slides the ring onto my finger, the slender band a perfect fit. I don’t have time to admire it before his lips are on mine again, and we kiss in front of the window overlooking Manhattan as the sun gilds the buildings, and the empty streets below us begin to fill.

The End

Thank you so much for taking the time to read Guarded King !