Chapter 79 Epilogue - Gen
CANNES, TWO YEARS LATER
The sunset over the Bay of Cannes is spectacular.
But not as spectacular as my husband.
Clad all in black, as is his tradition each year on Opening Night of Alchemy C?te d’Azur, tonight he’s at his most sensual.
His most predatory.
I’m the only one who knows quite how warm and cuddly he is behind that facade. Well, my friends have a suspicion, too. Once again, he’s hosting our entire gang for the opening weekend. Besides, they’ve had front-row seats to Anton’s teddy-bear side for the past two years.
If his moonlit proposal six months in on his fairylight-dotted yacht in Mustique didn’t give the game away, the way he’s shown up for me, and worshipped me, and supported me every single day did.
This villa has proven such a perfect backdrop for our Mediterranean orgies the past two years that the owners have gladly leased it to us for the summer months for a third year running. It turns out they prefer avoiding this part of the world during peak season, anyway.
My filthy husband’s filthy vision of seasonal pop-ups for the beautiful players of Europe has proven, like everything else he touches, to be pure gold.
We opened pop-ups in Ibiza and Mykonos last summer, and last week we launched our most intense and adventurous project yet: an eight-week pop-up on an incredible superyacht moored at the Marina Grande in Capri.
The price of the yacht rental is eye-watering, as are the mooring fees, but it turns out there’s no shortage of people willing to pay through the nose for a night onboard. Anton wants to duplicate it in Monaco next summer, because the yacht experience just hits differently.
We opened our permanent New York club with one hell of a party this past New Year’s Eve. Alchemy New York will always be synonymous in my mind with my husband dousing himself with Krug until he was drenched as adoring fans—both male and female—mobbed him.
But, once midnight struck, there was only one person he had any interest in dragging off to a private room.
I understood from the moment Anton Wolff stepped into our offices that he was more than. And I knew, once I made peace with my feelings for him, that he would demand more of me than I could possibly imagine.
I was right.
This man feels hard. He fucks hard and plays hard, too. He loves fiercely. So fiercely. It turns out I never needed to worry that he’d ruin me and wreck me, because he has never once given me a second of doubt.
He’s so all in it’s not funny.
And all my sweet, incredible man demands is that I, in return, give him all of myself.
I’ve never met anyone with an appetite for life like his. He spends less time in the office these days and more time enjoying his homes. His family. His friends.
Enjoying me.
I’m still flat-out with Alchemy, despite the fact that we’ve hired people to take over many of the day-to-day operations in London so Anton and I can make better use of his French pad in the summer months and his Mustique one in the winter.
I know, I know.
Don’t ask me how I got so lucky.
My working time is spent executing on the aggressive expansion plans we have for Alchemy. It’s scary and heady in equal measure, but I have my favourite pit-bull by my side in all things business.
I keep him on a tight leash, mind you, but I’m always happy to let him off it when I need to play dirty but want to keep my own hands clean.
He’s so well-trained.
Adoring to me and devastating to our enemies.
* * *
‘What’ll it be tonight, Mrs Wolff?’ Anton whispers in my ear in a decidedly vulpine tone that has goosebumps breaking out on my neck. ‘Room or tent?’
There are two hundred and fifty people here tonight.
It blows my mind. To handle the shortage of rooms, we’ve had beautiful free-standing tents erected all around the grounds where people can find some privacy.
Not that privacy is a pre-requisite for the many people who’ll end up fucking under the starry sky on the numerous mattresses dotted around the grass.
I was right about this format opening Alchemy up to a wider audience.
Free spirits and party-goers have flocked here each summer, and many have ended up dabbling.
Those who choose to abstain still dub it one of the most glamorous, most fantastical party spots of the summer season.
It seems it’s less intimidating to rock up at a glamorous al fresco party than it is to cross the forbidding threshold of a Mayfair townhouse.
I lean back against Anton, loving having his arms around me, strong fingers splayed over my stomach.
There is no one on this earth who can make me feel simultaneously as safe and as endangered as Anton can.
I’m in the most skilled, loving, demanding hands, and he won’t be satisfied until we’ve fucked each other senseless and wrung every drop of desire from each other’s bodies and souls this evening.
I let my fingertips trail over his taut, hairy forearm. His black shirt fits him so well it’s sinful, and he has the top few buttons open and the sleeves rolled up.
Just the way I like it.
‘Hmm,’ I muse. ‘I still like the view the rooms gives us, if there’s one going.’
I love it when we make love in the dark as people splash and party and fuck beyond the glass, illuminated in the lush gardens in every shade of the rainbow.
I’m a private person. I allow my husband to unwrap my layers and blow away my inhibitions, but he’s the only person who gets to see me like that.
Anton fucking loves that he’s the only one who gets to unveil me.
He scoffs. ‘For the woman who makes the magic happen? There’s a room.
’ He inhales sharply against my skin and kisses down my neck.
I tilt my head to give him more space. I’m so in love with this man it’s actually ridiculous.
The concept of a life without Anton is too bleak, too colourless, to even consider.
Every day, he pushes me and challenges me and calls me out when I’m holding back.
He demands everything.
He gives me nowhere to hide.
He sees me so clearly it’s frankly terrifying.
But then again, he always has.
‘Have you seen my sister?’ I ask dreamily.
‘She’s fine,’ he mutters against my skin. ‘I saw her disappearing into one of the tents with the guys. She looked very happy.’
I laugh. Since Darcy came home about eighteen months ago she’s managed to find extraordinary love with not one but two men. The relationship the three of them have is nothing short of spectacular.
Let’s just say they’ve very much kept things in the Alchemy family, but that’s another story for another time.
Because tonight is about pleasure. Decadence. Hedonism. It’s about partying and fucking. It’s about marvelling that we’re in the business of providing people with some of the most memorable, transcendent experiences of their lives.
Tomorrow will be a recovery day around our pool for some of us. Definitely not for Maddy, who’s heavily pregnant. This will be the last overseas trip she takes before her baby is born.
Rafe and Belle are taking it easy tonight, too. Their sweet little daughter, Elsie, is only two months old, and she’s back at the house with their maternity nurse. They’ll duck out of the party early so Belle can head home for the late feed.
I’m enjoying a couple of glasses of champagne, but I don’t need booze to lose myself.
My husband will take care of that all by himself.
Which is to say that my money for most hungover tomorrow is, as usual, on Cal. If his beautiful wife doesn’t have other plans for him, that is.
In case you think we’re all very boring these days, I’d like to disclose that my husband is currently grinding his rock-hard dick against the cleft of my arse cheeks as he drags his bared teeth over my neck, and I am a Pavlovian dog where he’s concerned.
I drag his hand upwards so he can feel the effect he’s having on my nipples, which are already tight and aching.
We fucked before our afternoon siesta ‘to take the edge off’, but my Big Bad Wolff wants more of his prey.
And who am I to deny him?
He gave me my very own Happily Ever After.
I’ll damn well give him as many happy endings as I can.
THE END