Chapter 14
SAVANNAH
I wake up to a warm body wrapped around mine.
I’m disoriented. This isn’t my apartment. This bed is massive, the sheets are the softest thing I’ve ever felt, and there’s a man’s arm draped over my waist.
Ledger. His office. The memories flooding back. Coming home to his penthouse.
I turn my head and find him already awake, watching me with those blue eyes that make my stomach flip.
“Morning, wife,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.
“Morning, husband.”
God, he’s gorgeous. Silver hair messy from sleep, stubble on his jaw, bare chest showing all those tattoos I’m still learning. In the morning light, he looks younger. Less dangerous. Just a man who happens to be ridiculously hot and happens to be mine.
“How do you look this good in the morning?” I ask.
He laughs. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“I probably look like a disaster.”
“You don’t.” He pulls me closer, kissing my forehead. “And you’re in my bed where you belong.”
There’s a soft knock on the door. “Mr. Volkov?” A woman’s voice. “I have coffee and breakfast when you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Marie. Give us twenty minutes.”
Footsteps retreat down the hall.
I blink at him. “Staff?”
“Yes. Marie is the housekeeper. There’s also Pedro for head of security, a chef named Antoine who comes in for dinner and sometimes lunch, and a few others who rotate through.”
“How many people work for you?”
“In this building? Six full-time. In the company?” He grins. “A few thousand.”
Right. Because he’s a billionaire.
Twenty minutes later, we’re dressed in comfortable clothes and heading to the kitchen.
Well, Ledger is dressed in gray sweatpants and a T-shirt that should be illegal for how good it looks on him.
I’m wearing one of his T-shirts and pajama shorts I found in a drawer he cleared out for me at some point.
The kitchen is something out of a magazine. White marble and stainless steel, with the biggest island I’ve ever seen. Marie, a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and graying hair pulled back in a bun, is setting out plates of eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and pastries that smell incredible.
“Good morning, Mrs. Volkov,” she says warmly. “I hope you slept well.”
Mrs. Volkov. I’m still getting used to that.
“Very well, thank you.”
“If you need anything, just let me know. I’ve stocked your bathroom with toiletries, but if there’s anything specific you prefer, I can have it delivered today.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect. Thank you, Marie.”
She smiles and disappears, and I turn to Ledger. “She’s nice.”
“She’s been with me for ten years. She runs this place like a military operation.” He pulls out a chair for me at the island. “Eat. You barely ate anything yesterday.”
The food is amazing. The eggs are perfectly cooked, the bacon is crispy, and the pastries are still warm. I take a bite of the eggs, and my stomach does a weird flip. I set my fork down and reach for the croissant instead.
Must be all the excitement from yesterday catching up with me. I’m halfway through the pastry when I realize Ledger is just watching me with this satisfied expression.
“What?” I ask around a mouthful of pastry.
“Nothing. Just happy you’re here.”
“Me too.”
After breakfast, while Ledger takes a call in his office, I wander through the penthouse. And wander is the right word, because this place is massive.
The living room has windows on two sides, showing off views worth dying for. There’s a grand piano in the corner that looks like it’s never been played.
Down the hall, I find a gym with a treadmill, weights, and a punching bag hanging in the corner. Through another door lies a home theater with reclining leather seats and a screen that spans the entire wall.
His closet is the size of an average person’s bedroom. Suits lined up perfectly, shoes organized by color, watches in a glass case that makes my jaw drop. I recognize some of the brands because Mom used to point them out in magazines. Each one probably costs six figures.
I’m standing there trying to process the sheer amount of wealth when arms wrap around me from behind.
“Find everything okay?” Ledger asks against my ear.
“Your closet is bigger than my bedroom in Chicago.”
“Our closet.” He turns me around to face him. “And I had Marie clear out the other half for your things. We’ll need to go shopping since you don’t have much here.”
“Ledger, I can’t afford—”
“I can. And you’re my wife. What’s mine is yours.” He kisses me before I can argue. “Get used to it, princess.”
Marie knocks, and Ledger leaves with her while I’m still processing that I apparently have an entire walk-in closet to fill.
I hear voices and head out to the living room. A man is there, maybe late thirties, built like he could break someone in half, wearing an expensive suit. He’s talking quietly with Ledger, and when he sees me, he nods respectfully.
“Mrs. Volkov. I’m Silas, Mr. Volkov’s right hand. Pleasure to finally meet you properly.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
He hands Ledger a folder. “Everything you asked for. The alcohol has been removed and donated. Security reports are clean. And I have the updates on the Chicago situation.”
“Chicago situation?” I ask.
Ledger and Silas exchange a look.
“Nothing to worry about,” Ledger says. “Just tying up some loose ends.”
Silas leaves a few minutes later, and I corner Ledger in the kitchen where he’s pouring more coffee.
“What Chicago situation?”
“Just business. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Ledger.”
He sighs and pulls me against him. “I promise it’s nothing dangerous. Just some property deals that need handling. I’m not keeping secrets from you, but I’m also not going to burden you with every business detail.”
I decide to let it go for now. “Tell me about Alexi,” I say instead.
His face softens immediately. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. I met him briefly at the office, but I don’t really know anything about him.”
We end up on the couch, my feet in his lap, while he tells me about his son. About how Alexi was born when he was twenty-five, from a relationship that didn’t last. About how Alexi is the best thing in his life. About raising a kid while building an empire.
“He’s strong,” Ledger says. “Stronger than I was at his age. Smart. Funny. He’s dating this girl Elena right now, and I think it might be serious.”
“I like him already.”
“He’ll like you too. He’s been wanting to meet you properly, but I wanted some time with just us first.” Ledger’s hands massage my feet absently. “Is that selfish?”
“A little. But I don’t mind.” I lean back into the couch. “This is nice. Just being together without work or stress or memory problems.”
“Get used to it. I plan on keeping you here all weekend.”
“What about Monday?”
“What about it?”
“I have work.”
“So do I. We’ll go together.” He grins. “No more south stairwell for you.”
“People are going to figure out we’re together.”
“You’re my wife, after all.”
The possessiveness in his voice makes me shiver in the best way.
The rest of the day passes in a lazy, perfect blur. We settle into the home theater to watch a movie, though I fall asleep before we’re even twenty minutes in. I’m exhausted in a way that doesn’t make sense. Ledger pulls me closer, and I’m out cold against his chest.
Antoine, the chef, comes by in the afternoon and makes us lunch that’s better than any restaurant I’ve been to. Marie brings fresh towels to the bathroom and pretends not to notice when she catches us kissing in the hallway.
By evening, I’m completely in love with this life. With the staff who treat me like I belong here. With the penthouse that feels more like a home than anywhere I’ve lived. With the man who looks at me like I’m his entire world.
As the sun starts setting, Ledger takes my hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
He leads me through the living room to a glass door I hadn’t noticed before. It opens onto a balcony that wraps around the entire penthouse. The view takes my breath away. New York stretches below us in every direction, the city lights just starting to come on as the sky turns pink and gold.
“I used to stand here,” Ledger says quietly, “and imagine bringing you here. After I found out where you were, after I knew you were in New York, I’d come out here and think about what I’d say when I finally got you back.”
I turn to look at him. “What did you imagine saying?”
“That you were mine. That I’d searched for you and found you, and I wasn’t letting you go.” He cups my face. “That I loved you from the moment you laughed at my last name in that chapel.”
“I love you too.”
He kisses me as the sun sets behind us, and it’s soft and sweet and perfect.
Then it’s not soft anymore.
His hands slide under my shirt, and I’m pulling at his, and suddenly we’re desperate for each other again. He lifts me, and my legs wrap around his waist as he presses me against the glass railing.
“Out here?” I gasp.
“Out here. Under the stars.”
The sun is a molten coin behind the mountains when Ledger backs me against the glass railing.
His mouth is on my neck, teeth scraping, tongue hot and wet.
One rough tug and my shirt is up to my collarbone, bra shoved under my breasts.
Cool wind licks my nipples into aching points.
I arch hard, a broken moan ripping out of me loud enough for all of New York to hear.
“Let the whole city watch me claim my wife,” he growls, voice gravel and smoke. He rips my shorts and panties down in one violent yank. The fabric flutters over the edge and disappears thirty floors down.
I gasp at the sudden air on my slick skin. Before I can breathe, he lifts me onto the wide marble rail. My thighs spread wide, heels hooked on the lower bar, pussy open to the entire skyline.
His hand cups me, two fingers sliding through my wetness, then three plunge deep without warning. I scream, head snapping back, eyes rolling as he curls those fingers hard against that spot that whites out my brain.
His thumb grinds my clit in ruthless circles, wrist snapping, knuckles slick with me. The railing is cold under my ass, wind whipping my hair, distant music pulsing like a second heartbeat.
“Fuck, Ledger!” My voice cracks, echoing off glass towers. I claw his shoulders, hips bucking, chasing the brutal rhythm. He pumps faster, forearm flexing, fingers scissoring wide, stretching me open. Pleasure coils vicious and bright behind my eyes.
“Come for me, princess,” he snarls, teeth on my earlobe. “Let everyone hear who you belong to.”
I shatter. A gush of wet heat arcs over the marble, splattering his wrist, dripping down the railing into the void. My thighs quake, vision sparking white, every muscle locked around his hand as I scream his name into the twilight.
He yanks his fingers free, and my pussy clenches around nothing, still pulsing from the orgasm. In one motion, he frees his cock and lifts me off the rail.
My legs wrap around his waist on instinct, ankles locking behind his back. The marble bites my spine as he pins me to the glass. One brutal thrust and he’s buried to the hilt, stretching me so wide my breath stalls.
The railing vibrates with every slam of his hips.
I claw his shoulders, nails carving red lines down inked skin.
Each stroke drags a filthy sound from my throat, raw and broken, loud enough for the helicopters overhead to hear.
He spanks my ass hard, the crack echoing off the towers.
“Louder, princess. Let them know who owns this cunt.”
I scream his name again, the word shredded by wind and pleasure. My tits bounce against his chest, nipples scraping the cotton of his shirt. He carries me without breaking rhythm, cock pulsing inside me, and drops us onto the outdoor couch.
Leather sticks to my sweat-slick thighs as he lays me down, never pulling out. City lights strobe over our joined bodies, painting us in electric blues and golds.
He starts slow, deep rolls that grind his pelvic bone against my swollen clit. I arch, greedy, begging, “Ruin me, husband.” He flips me to my hands and knees, one hand fisting my hair, the other cracking across my ass until the skin burns bright.
Then he pounds, relentless, hips snapping, balls slapping my clit with every thrust. The couch scoots an inch across the deck. His fingers shove into my mouth and I suck them clean, tasting myself, moaning around the intrusion.
“Tight little wife,” he growls, voice ragged. “Made for my cock.”
I push back, meeting every slam, pussy fluttering, dripping down my thighs. The stars spin overhead, the city a glittering blur below, and all I feel is him, thick and unforgiving, wrecking me exactly how I begged.
He drags me back to the railing like I weigh nothing, spins me, and bends me over the cold marble.
My tits crush against the glass, nipples screaming from the chill.
One hand collars my throat, the other dives between my legs, fingers rubbing my clit in vicious circles.
He slams home again, cock splitting me open, balls slapping wet skin.
New York blurs through tears of pleasure. I can see the busy streets below, tiny yellow cabs stuck in traffic, and every light feels like it’s watching me get fucked senseless thirty floors up.
Another hard slap on my ass and I come undone, squirting so hard it splashes the marble and drips over the edge into the night. My scream ricochets off the towers, raw and wrecked.
He hauls me upright, spins me, lifts me against the glass. My legs hook over his shoulders, ankles by his ears, pussy spread wide to the sky. He drives up into me, brutal, perfect, the angle so deep I feel him in my throat. His thumb finds my clit again, merciless.
“Look at me,” he snarls.
I force my eyes open. City lights explode behind him like fireworks.
He roars, hips stuttering, and floods me, thick, endless pulses painting my walls white. The heat triggers another orgasm; I milk him dry, walls fluttering, cum and slick running down my thighs in sticky rivers. My final scream is his name, shredded and reverent, swallowed by the wind.
He lowers me gently, legs shaking, and collapses onto the couch. A cashmere blanket appears from nowhere, and he wraps us tight, my back to his chest, his cock still half-hard behind me, pressed against my ass.
“Best view in the city,” he whispers against my ear, voice hoarse, “is you wrecked on my cock.”
I laugh, breathless, and lace our fingers over my stomach where his release is already taking root. “Best honeymoon ever,” I murmur against his chest.