Chapter 25
25
I watch her as she puts her dress on. Just the sight of it, covering her perfection and shielding her from me, has me pining for her nakedness and her complete submission.
I can’t decide what details of her I’m most obsessed with: the sassy attitude mixed with her angelic sweetness, her crazy talent or her ethereal, otherworldly beauty. One thing I do know is that the writhing little nymph side of her personality, the one that pleads and begs for my raging cock is the one that has me on my fucking knees.
But now, she’s all business. It’s Monday morning.
“I should get going,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed where I’m still sprawled out, my arm propped behind my head. The sheet’s not covering me and I love that she’s suddenly all demure at the sight of me. My cock is draped across my stomach, only half hard, still spilling from our most recent fuck.
We both came extremely hard. Again.
She let me kiss her for a while, which I can’t seem to get enough of. She closed her eyes and listened quietly, a half disbelieving smile on her lips as I murmured promises.
But then her phone pinged with an incoming message and she wriggled out from under me to check it. As soon as she read it, she switched gears from sexy little kitten mode to fucking flight mode.
And now I’m in a mood. “I meant what I said.”
“About what?”
“Move in with me.”
She blinks at me, keeping her eyes closed for a fraction too long, like she’s exasperated with these outlandish suggestions I keep making. “We agreed?—”
“I didn’t agree to anything.” I climb out of bed, walking over to my closet, if you could even call it that. It’s a room with its own climate control and racks of bespoke suits, shirts, ties, shoes, and some casual clothes, although I have less of a need for those since I basically live and breathe work. I grab a blue shirt and start putting it on. “Who was the text from?”
“What text?”
“The one you just got.”
“Oh.” Like she doesn’t want to tell me. “It was just my brother. He’s getting ready to board his flight back to New York.”
“Then we have some time before he gets back.” I pull on some pants, stuffing myself into them. We had a shower at some point during the night so I could taste her, unsullied by my own lust.
And now I don’t want to wash her off. I want to spend the day marked by her until I can be inside her again.
I’ll get what I want. Because I’m fucking addicted. I’m also in love—which is irrational and intense and doesn’t comfortably fit with my usual MO at all because I can’t control her.
I control everything in my life. And now she’s holding her own cards.
“I’m heading back to my apartment now.”
I love this. Her sternness. She’s telling me how it’s going to be. But I have a couple of aces up my sleeve. “I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t need to drive me, Alexander. I can grab a cab.”
“Absolutely not.” It’s unbearable, the thought of her wandering out onto the streets alone, unprotected, where any random fucker could see her or watch her or fucking touch her. “That’s not happening.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“Do that again and I’ll stuff my cock into that sassy little mouth.”
Ivy exhales a huff of laughter. “I am going home now, Maddox, whether you like it or not.” She stands up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“Sure you are. But first, I have some things I need to show you. I meant to give them to you last night, but I was preoccupied.” We both know what I was preoccupied with—pumping my cum into her as many times as my new superpowers would allow.
“What things?” Petulantly. Like I’m holding her up.
I don’t know why her coy, pouty sulk would make me fall even more cataclysmically in love with her, but it does. I do my best to get a grip.
I walk toward the bedroom door, opening it and striding into the living room, and she slides her high-heeled sandals on, following me.
On the table, where I requested they be put, are the things I had my lawyers and assistants organize for me. There are two wrapped boxes, one large and one small, and a large manila envelope.
“Open the big one first.”
Another light eye roll.
“What is all this?” she asks.
“I guess you’ll have to open them to find out.” I shove my fists into my pockets and lean my shoulder against a wall as I watch her. My shirt is still unbuttoned and I’m barefoot. I feel more reckless than I’ve ever felt. More unhinged. I literally can’t deal with the thought of her leaving. Or of not knowing how many hours it’ll be until I can see her again.
She sighs, as though opening gifts is a chore. But I’ve learned enough about Ivy Laine over the course of the weekend to know that at least part of this act, of disengaging and wanting to run, is for her own emotional protection. The only men she’s had in her life have either abandoned her completely or relied on her for everything. This is new territory.
She doesn’t know how to handle the next step we take any more than I do.
“Just open them, sweetheart, without all the drama.”
“You don’t need to buy me gifts, Alexander. You already…” She stops herself.
You already paid me.
It’s hardly an elephant in the room. But it does need to be placed firmly in the past. “That was for an agreement that ended yesterday. What’s in these packages is something else.”
She carefully tears the wrapping paper off the larger box.
Opening the box, she gasps, carefully taking out the acoustic guitar I bought for her.
“It’s a custom-built Taylor PSGA Koa guitar,” I tell her. “With mother-of-pearl on the fingerboard. Played by Taylor Swift on one of her earlier tours, I’ve been told. We bought it from the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville.” They didn’t want to let it go, but everything has its price.
“What?” She holds it, fingering the inlaid pearl. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. I’m always serious. Open the smaller one next.”
But she takes her time, playing a few chords on the guitar. It’s got a nice tone. “Alexander.” She says my name sort of dreamily but with a scolding edge, totally stunned by the gift.
“Go on. There’s more.”
She very gently places the guitar back in its box. “I can’t believe this.” Then she picks up the smaller box and unwraps it, holding up the glinting tennis bracelet I bought her.
“Those are yellow diamonds. They’re rare because the color is so intense. They reminded me of your eyes.”
“Alexander,” she says again.
I go over to her and take the bracelet from her fingers, looping it around her wrist, clasping it. “Now open the envelope.”
Her golden eyes are soulful. “You don’t need to buy me gifts.”
“I don’t need to, Jones, I want to. Because you’re so fucking gorgeous. And because you’ve just given me the best weekend of my life and I wanted to say thank you. Open it.”
She picks up the envelope and slides out the paperwork.
“There are a few things in here.” I take the first contract off the top of the pile. “This is the deed for your apartment building, as promised.”
“What?”
“You thought I was kidding, didn’t you, sweetheart?” I grin at her. “I wasn’t. You own it now, but the contract names me as your co-owner at one percent. That way, if you need help with anything or have any legal issues at all anywhere down the line, I can take care of them for you without any hassles.”
“But…how?”
“How?”
“Why?”
“Why did I buy your building for you?”
“Yes.”
“Because. You live in it.”
“That’s not a reason to?—”
“Actually it is a reason to buy a building. It’s a done deal. Too late to protest.” I take the next piece of paper from the small stack she’s still holding. “This is an offer of management for your singing career, for one year, which you’ll then have the choice to continue with or not. My lawyers have looked through it and it’s a very good, very legit offer. The manager’s name is Roxie Tucker. She’s young but one of the best in the business, according to my sources, who are trustworthy. She manages her brothers’ band. You might have heard of them. They’re called the Tucker Brothers.”
“Of course I’ve heard of them. They’re huge.”
“She also manages a few solo acts, like Ruby Hayes and Sky Rose. All the artists she manages are hitting the stratosphere. Or are getting close to it. I had my people send her the links to your platforms. Apparently she’s excited about the prospect of taking you on board. She sent this offer through yesterday, only an hour or two after we contacted her.”
It takes her a few seconds to process all this, and I give her time to do that. It’s a lot. “But…how did you do all this? You had…a busy weekend.”
“I have a lot of people on speed-dial who know how to get shit done.” And I pay them a lot of money to do it.
I take the next two pieces of paper. And I hesitate for a few seconds because the next two things I’m going to show her need to be handled carefully.
“There are two new accounts here that are in your name,” I tell her. “This first one is, at least. The second one has all our names on it.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re bank accounts. With some money in them. This one’s for you, to help with the bills you’re going to be paying for your brother, for the upkeep of your new property and just…to give you a buffer.”
“A buffer.” Like she’s not sure she likes the sound of that.
“Against worrying about anything. At all. Ever again.”
She takes the piece of paper out of my hands and stares at it. Reading it. She shakes her head a little and hands it back to me. “Alexander. This is insane. I can’t accept this. Of course I can’t. You need to calm down.”
This makes me smile. “I actually feel calmer than usual.”
She eyes me. “I can’t accept this.”
“Except that you have to accept it because it’s in your name, which means I can’t touch it. It’s yours.”
An uneven laugh escapes her. “Twenty million dollars? Are you crazy?”
“To answer the second part of that question, yes and no. To answer the first: to tide you over. For now.”
At this she really does laugh. “Okay. Very funny, Maddox. You got me.”
It’s fine. I was expecting it to take a while to sink in. I hand her the next piece of paper. “This one has the same amount in it, with both our names on it. And a blank space.”
She looks up at me and goes very still. “What…blank space?”
“You know what blank space.” I say it gently. “We’ve talked about this. We spent the weekend having all kinds of incredible—and incredibly—raw dog sex. Ultimately it’s your call. But I’m also a part of this. Half, to be exact. So I’m going to do everything in my power to stop you from making any decisions out of fear, one way or the other. I want us to make the decision together, and this is me telling you that I’ve made my decision. I’m all in. Colton was right about me. I don’t say things I don’t fucking mean, and I mean this: I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you both. I want you, Jones.” I don’t know if I realized how true it is until I say it and the words come out sounding raw. “I want you both.”
I’m tired of being lonely. I’m sick to death of living my life as a robot and an empty shell. I never knew how empty I was until this little supernova of a girl jump-started my heart and set wildfires along my bloodstream. I feel alive and so fucking happy she’s here and that I spent the weekend fucking breeding her like a goddamn caveman and now she might be knocked up with my baby, I don’t even recognize myself.
Her amber eyes are shiny and I keep talking because there’s so much I want to say to her. Which isn’t like me at all but there it is. So I keep going.
“It’s crazy and I know it’s fast. But that’s how it happened for us and I think that means something.” I take her hand, twirling her new bracelet slowly, playing her fingers. “I’m in love with you, Ivy Laine. And I know this because I’ve spent my whole life lonely as fuck. Really, really fucking lonely. Miserable in anyone’s company that has anything to do with relationships or romance or any of that bullshit. And that’s what it felt like. Just all wrong. Until you stepped through that door. I knew. I knew right that second that I wanted you. I wanted you. And it’s okay if it takes some time for us to get to know each other. We have time. We have all the time in the world. Give me a month, Jones. Move in with me and let me show you how much I want you, angel girl. Because I do. I want you.”
There are tears in her eyes as she blinks up at me. “You’re crazy, Maddox,” she whispers.
“Your fault.” I touch my finger to her chin and a tear paints a shiny line down her face. “There’s one more thing.”
“There’s more? I can’t handle more.”
I give her the last small envelope. She opens it. Inside are two first-class e-tickets and a brochure of the resort. “We found some of those huts in Tahiti. I wasn’t joking about that either.”
She gasps. “The huts?”
“Yeah. Over the water. So you can dive straight in. They have glass floors so you can see the fish. Do they look okay?”
She puts her face in her hands and she starts sobbing. Really sobbing. Like she’s letting out years’ worth of angst that’s been bottled up all this time.
Of all the gifts I’ve given her, the huts are the one that’s hit some nerve of deep-rooted sorrow—the kind that doesn’t have to be sorrowful anymore and the relief is almost too much to bear.
“Hey.” I take the tickets and set them on the table with the other papers. Then I lift her into my arms and take her to the couch and just hold her on my lap, wiping her tears and kissing her face. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”
Her sobs are starting to ease now. “You know,” she says softly, “you said those exact words to me on that very first night.”
“And I meant them.”
“Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“You. Me. All of it.”
I tuck a strand of her hair behind one small, perfect ear. “That’s fair. I’m scared too.”
“What are you scared of?” she whispers.
“That you’ll leave. That you don’t believe that I’m just not a guy who runs. I’m the guy who stays. Being rock solid has been branded into me alongside my earliest memories. I can’t operate any other way, even when I don’t want to. And when I do, watch out, Jones.”
“But it’s so much. These gifts…”
“You haven’t seen anything yet, baby. Just wait until I pull out the big guns.”
“One big gun is more than enough. I’m having trouble walking as it is.”
I kiss her lips, smiling because I can’t help myself. “There she is. There’s my feisty girl. I’m going to take you back to your apartment. We’re going to deal with the other issue that’s going on when your brother gets home. Then you’re going to come back here with me tonight and we’ll take it from there.”
I can still feel her hesitations, but she gives a little nod, her eyes still shiny with tears.
“One month and you’ll be putty in my hands, Jones. You’ll see.”
I finally get a hint of a smile out of her, and a weak, what-the-hell laugh. “You better make it good, Maddox.”