The Virgin Society Collection

Epilogue

A SULTRY SUMMER SKY

Layla

Many Months Later

I slide my skull rings on my fingers, then slick on some ruby red lipstick in the hotel room mirror in Miami.

There. I’m ready for today.

I press my lips together and blow a kiss to my reflection as my favorite person in the world comes up behind me, wrapping his strong arms around my waist.

“Beautiful,” Nick says, meeting my gaze in the mirror as he brushes soft kisses to my hair.

He’s always loved kissing my hair. I’ve always loved when he does it. He moves closer to my cheekbone, turning me on but also risking the time I’ve spent making my face look just so for today’s big event.

“Don’t mess up my lipstick though,” I warn playfully.

“Who? Me?” There’s a naughty rumble in his voice as he lays a kiss on my jawline.

“Yes, you. You’re obsessed with wiping it off my lips.”

He raises his face as he lifts a hand to swipe my hair off my neck, then brushes a tender, lingering kiss on my neck that makes my skin tingle.

“I like the way your lips taste,” he says. “And I love the way your lipstick looks when you wrap those red lips around my cock.”

I roll my eyes as I swat his forearm. “I do not have time to get on my knees right now.”

He pouts. But he’s relentless, tugging me closer, so I can feel his hard-on against my ass. “Later then. Or maybe I’ll get on my knees and take care of you,” he suggests, tempting me.

Absolutely tempting me.

But there’s hardly time.

“We really need to go,” I say, a little sad.

On a groan, he lets go of me. Then, like it’s a superhuman feat, he pulls away completely and nods resolutely. It’s like he’s re-sorting all his thoughts to clean, business-like ones. “Let’s do this. I can’t wait to see the store,” he says.

“Me either,” I say, absolutely giddy about today.

Forget giddy.

I’m effervescent when I turn onto the block of the brand new makeup store in this trendy section of South Beach. It’s as if bubbles are flowing through my bloodstream as I gaze at the sign at the end of the block.

Mia and Lola.

I kept Mia’s name—well some of it—and combined it with mine. Now the stores and the brand are Mia and Lola. This shop I’m opening today in Miami will be my eighth location. I’m still kind of amazed every day that I have that many stores to run.

Well, I don’t do it all by myself. Storm is my guy, and I depend on him as my chief operating officer to make all of this magic happen. He’s overseen every aspect of this launch.

But all of this still sometimes feels like a dream.

“Is this real?” I ask Nick, quietly, a little reverently. I’m still in awe of what the man by my side did to make everything happen.

“So real, Layla,” he says with obvious pride in his tone as we stare at the vibrant peach storefront at the end of the block, the store’s name in a sapphire blue.

But what’s truly amazing is the line snaking around the block—customers waiting for the doors to open in a little over twenty minutes. I’ll let them in, then help them pick makeup to their heart’s content.

“You did all this,” he adds.

“You helped a little bit,” I point out with a smile.

But Nick deflects my compliment with a shake of his head. “All the credit goes to you, my brilliant woman.”

In a short time, Mia and Lola has become one of the most popular makeup brands.

Today for the opening, I’ll do a how-to session, as I often do in my shops around the country. The one I have planned for today is fitting for Miami—how to do beach makeup.

Nick gives me another kiss on the cheek, then whispers, “Go get ‘em.”

I head over, waving and saying hello to the customers that are lined up. Then I go inside. I’m in my element and loving it.

Nick

That evening, she’s glowing as we walk along the beach into the fading sun.

“And I met so many amazing people today,” Layla says, practically bouncing as she talks.

No surprise there. My Layla has always been energized by business.

It’s been such a thrill to watch her build and grow her brand. She’s been telling me all about the session that spilled from the afternoon into the early evening since the lines were that long. I couldn’t stay the whole time. I stepped out to meet with one of my portfolio companies here in Miami, then returned to meet her at the end of the day. That’s how we usually are, heading off to our respective ventures by day, and coming back together at night.

“Tell me more about them,” I say with my hand in hers and the sand under our feet.

But her smile disappears, a serious look in her bright blue eyes. “There was one woman here this afternoon who had a long, jagged scar on her arm,” she says. “She’d been hurt by an ex.”

I growl.

“He’s in prison now,” she says, reassuring.

“Good,” I say.

“And she told me,” she says, stopping for a beat as her voice chokes up, “how she learned to use makeup to conceal it. She watched one of my videos on how to artfully conceal scars. She said it changed her life.”

My heart swells. “I’m so proud of you that you did that series.”

She nods solemnly. “Me too. It’s been one of the best things I’ve ever done at Mia and Lola.”

I admire how she’s used her past pain to help others. She’s turned her trauma around with these videos and used her hurt for good. She says it helps heal her all over again.

So do some of her partnerships too.

Like the one she established a year ago when she partnered up with the tattoo artist who designed her daisy tattoo. They have a deal now where Layla funds tattoos for any woman who’s been through trauma and wants art to cover up a scar or a wound. Layla covers all the costs for the tattoo. It’s been a beautiful project to witness. I could not be prouder of my woman.

And I could not be more ready to take all the next steps with her. After we talk a little more about the day, we head toward the softly lapping waves as the sun dips toward the horizon. I draw a deep inhale of the ocean air, feeling more certain than I ever have about anything, more ready. And so I let her take a step or two ahead of me, our hands slipping apart.

That catches her attention and she turns around, quirking up a brow in question. But I’m faster. I’m down on one knee. “I have an idea for your next how-to video,” I say, emotions welling up in my chest.

Her eyes widen. “You do?”

I reach into my pocket. “What if you do a video on…how to do wedding makeup?” I suggest, as I hold out a velvet box. “Because I would love nothing more in the entire world than to marry you. You are and always have been the absolute love of my life, and I would love if you’d do me the great honor of letting me be your husband.”

She drops down to her knees, cups my cheek, and kisses me, her tears sealing the yes that comes from her lips.

“That sounds like a great idea,” she says.

“The video?” I ask playfully.

She shakes her head. “Marrying you.”

She holds out her hand, and I slide on a gorgeous sapphire stone set in platinum, perfect for my woman in blue.

“I love it. It matches my ink,” she says quietly.

“And it’s beautiful and as resilient as you,” I say.

She offers me her mouth again. “You were so good resisting my lipstick all day. Kiss me all night, Nick.”

“I will.”

And for all the nights to come.

I kiss her in the city where we met once upon a time under a sultry summer sky.