Epilogue
Emerson
Two months later…
The cellblock door buzzes open, the deafening sound reverberating through the 10th Precinct like a whip cutting through the air.
The officer, an older male with an ever-present scowl and a handlebar mustache, leads me through the magnolia corridor in silence, nothing but the sound of his smoker’s cough accompanying us.
It is already 6 P.M. when Mr. White receives a call requesting I attend the precinct. I don’t have a clue who the client is, Mr. White doesn’t say, and I am in far too much of a hurry to ask. Rookie error. It isn’t as though I can call Sasha to find out for me either, she’ll be long on her way home by now.
I rake my mind with thoughts on how to introduce myself to the client if I don’t recognize them. Hi, I’m Emerson Fields, I’m an attorney at White & Rivers. And you are?
It hardly screams professionalism.
All I’ve been told is the client is arrested on suspicion of hacking into the government database, HAKI. Supposedly, the FBI was alerted of the intrusion the moment the client bypassed the security systems and managed to track him down in a matter of minutes.
For the life of me, I can’t imagine who will be sitting in that cell. None of our clients are a) that stupid, or b) stupid enough to get caught so easily.
The officer stops outside a blue, steel door and unhooks his lanyard, fiddling with the numerous keys while I patiently wait behind him.
He shoves a key into the door, jiggling it through the keyhole, and etches the door open when it unlocks. He spares me a glance, his lips drawn into a firm line. “I’ll be right outside.”
“Thanks.”
I press against the steel door, the coolness spreading up my arms. A sliver of light peaks through the crack, and I almost squeeze my eyes shut to adjust to the brightness when the door etches completely open.
My gaze fixes on the man dressed in a Brioni suit leaning on the stained, white brick wall. His arms are folded against his broad chest and his jaw is firmly set, his sunburst eyes clashing with mine.
A wave of disbelief ripples down my spine. “Are you kidding me?”
The corners of his lips tug, and I practically melt. “Is that how you greet all your clients, Tesoro? It’s hardly very professional.”
“This couldn’t have waited until tonight?” I officially moved in with Orion, so it isn’t like I’d have been able to avoid him for much longer. We sleep in the same bed and eat at the same dinner table for crying out loud.
“I’ve never been a patient man.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
We fought this morning. His birthday is right around the corner, and I’d planned a trip to Paris for us as a surprise. Obviously, like many other things, it turns out Orion hates surprises. I didn’t expect him to stop asking me about it in the hopes that I’d crack under his scrutiny and spill the details, but I really didn’t expect his impatient ass to have Doug hack into my email and find out the booking information.
When I found out, things got heated and I stormed into the White & Rivers office, turning off my phone in the process so he couldn’t annoy me any further. The last thing I expected was for him to get himself arrested so I had no choice but to speak to him.
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Orion’s brow arches and his hazel-gray eyes resemble something of a stormy cloud. The familiar velvety tips of butterfly wings caress my stomach, and I swallow. Hard.
He pushes off the wall, his overbearing height stealing the light as his shadow eats up my peripheral vision. “That sounded like attitude, but that can’t be right because you know what happens to smart mouths. Don’t you, Emerson? ”
Warmth curls in my stomach, spreading like wildfire under my skin. Nevertheless, my eyes burn into his with defiance. “Your distraction techniques won’t work,” I declare, though we both know it’s a lie. “You ruined the surprise.”
“I upgraded the surprise.” He steps into me.
I step back.
He smirks.
“Well, it’s hardly a surprise anymore.”
He steps into me again.
I step back, again.
His smirk deepens. “Haven’t you punished me enough?” My back presses against the icy wall, but despite its low temperature, my skin is burning.
“I haven’t punished you.” My voice comes out like a soft whisper.
“You’ve ignored me all day.” He positions his hands on either side of my head against the wall. “It was torture.”
My breathing picks up its pace. “I was working.”
“What’s it going to take for you to forgive me?” He wets his lips, a sinful little act that has my knees weakening. “Do you want me on my knees, baby?”
My heart stalls. “Orion—”
His thigh wedges between my legs, spreading my feet apart. He removes a hand from the wall, softly trailing his fingers along the back of my thigh until he reaches the hem of my dress.
“Because I’ll happily get on my knees for you, Emerson.” His voice is lethally soft, and my resistance officially collapses. “Right here.”
Arousal floods to my core, and I start to feel lightheaded. All I can focus on is the feeling of his fingers caressing my skin, and his sweet woody scent invading my senses. Why am I mad again?
I gasp when his finger brushes against my core over the material of my thong, pleasured sparks shooting up the base of my spine.
Suddenly, he drops to his knees beneath me. His eyes flare with heat as they stare up at me, and his fingers hook onto the edge of my thong, pulling them down my legs.
He pockets my underwear, his darkened gaze never leaving mine, and lifts my leg onto his shoulder, exposing my aching pussy. I suck in a sharp breath when his cool breath blows against me. “Is this what you wanted, baby?”
My shoulders relax, and my heart skips a beat. “Yes.” My teeth dig into my bottom lip as he shoves my dress up my waist.
His fingers grip my hips, holding me firmly in place, and a sly grin curls on his lips as he swipes his tongue along my slippery folds. I am throbbing now, so turned on I can’t see straight. He teases me with a few long, slow strokes and I shiver, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. “Orion,” I urge, the need for him becoming insatiable.
With an answering groan, his tongue works me into a frenzy, gliding and nibbling against me with just the right amount of pressure that I feel the pleasure he brings in every inch of my body.
I grip his hair, tugging so hard it must hurt, but if it does, he doesn’t show it. His eyes remain fixed on me, watching me with smoldering eyes as I ride his tongue shamelessly, my hips grinding into his face.
The sound of his tongue lapping against me creates a dirty melody that reverberates off the walls and intensifies my arousal. “Come,” he demands in a deep, guttural growl.
I explode with a scream muffled by my own hand, my core clenching as an orgasm ripples through and breaks me into an explosion of starry bliss.
When I finally come down, he presses his lips against mine, forcing me to taste my own arousal, and another tingle of heat sparks in my core.
“Forgive me?”
I wet my lips. “For now.”
He grins. “Let’s go.”
Once I pull down my dress, my underwear still tucked away in Orion’s pocket, he tugs my hand with his and bangs on the steel door with the other.
The officer who showed me in opens the door with a blank expression and heat blisters my cheeks. If he heard anything, he doesn’t show it, instead, he silently leads us away from the cellblock and out of the precinct.
“Did you even get arrested?” I ask, confusion lining my brow as the officers let Orion walk out of the precinct freely.
“No,” he says dryly.
“Like I said, you’re unbelievable.”
Blake stands outside with the door to Orion’s car held open, not even a slither of curiosity etched into the grooves of his face. He’s probably seen it all by now .
Just as we’re about to climb into the backseat, something catches my attention in the corner of my eye. “Wait,” I tell Orion, turning to the newspaper stand on the side of the street.
“What is it?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I walk over to the stand and pick up a copy, unfolding it so I can see the front cover clearly. Orion stands closely behind me, reading the article over my shoulder.
I pull out my phone and scroll down my contacts list until I find Clover’s name. Pressing the call button, she answers after one ring. “Hello?”
“Have you seen the New York Daily News today?”
“No, what is it?”
I read the headline out loud. “Campbell or Knox: Who will New York’s up-and-coming fashion designer be cheering for at Monaco’s Grand Prix finish line?”
Underneath the headline is a blown-up photo of Ari and Caden Knox walking into the Hotel Aman Tokyo with one arm wrapped around her shoulder and the other opening the hotel door. Arianna’s head is ducked down, shielding herself away from the cameras, but it’s her. There’s no doubt about it. Behind them, Atlas’ golden hair filters through the crowd, holding back the paparazzi from breaking the layer of security .
“Oh shit.”
THE END.