Chapter 33
“Slow down!” Lena giggled as Don pressed his foot to the gas. “We have all night.”
He looked at her, at the way her auburn hair gleamed in the streetlights as they passed under them. The twinkle of merriment and slight impatience in her eyes. “We do,” he agreed. “And I intend to use every second of it.”
“Keep your eyes on the road then, so we can get home in one piece,” she retorted. But the smirk on her face told him everything he needed to know. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Half of him was tempted to pull over to the side of the road and ravish her then and there. But then, at some point they’d still have to get home—and once he started, he wouldn’t want to stop.
She reached over and ran her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled away and laughed at the spare strands of confetti that came away on her fingers. “I’ve never had a night like this,” she admitted.
The premiere had been something else. The Egyptian Theatre with its lines of palm trees illuminated by spotlights, and the red carpet flanked by faux Egyptian statues and painted hieroglyphics. The whole evening had been beyond his wildest imaginings. But Lena had already won an Oscar. Surely, this couldn’t compare.
“I know what you’re thinking.” She grinned. “Yes, winning an Oscar was great, but that night was missing the best part of this one.”
“And what is that?” He stole a glance at her as he wound his way through the quiet backstreets, the path to her bungalow etched into his heart by now.
She smiled, a look of such love in her eyes that his heart could nearly burst. “You know it’s you.”
He smirked. He couldn’t help it. She reached across and pressed her finger ever so gently to the place on his face where his scar slashed through his dimple. “Have I ever told you how much I love this spot?”
He took one hand off the wheel, grabbed her hand, and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Only about a thousand times.”
She sighed with happiness and settled into the bench seat beside him. They traveled a mile or two in companionable silence before she murmured, “A five-minute standing ovation.” There was a note of disbelief in her voice.
“You made a brilliant film, darling.”
“No,” she corrected him. “We did.” He reached for her hand and brought her knuckles to his mouth. He couldn’t get her out of this car soon enough. “They loved you, Don. You just wait. Tomorrow’s papers will be full of reports that you’re the hottest star in town.”
He grinned. “I hope they also have plenty to say about the town’s most talented director.”
She giggled, girlish in her excitement, and hugged her knees to her chest. The satin folds of her dress swam across her legs like cream over cake. He couldn’t wait to peel the thin straps of the dress from her shoulders and watch the gown pool at her feet, making her his very own Venus, rising from the ocean of the sea-green fabric. She leaned her head against her knees and looked at him intently.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I think you should move in with me.” He didn’t know what he was expecting her to say, but it wasn’t that. The engagement ring in his pocket that he’d been carrying around for weeks took on a sudden new weight. “Unless it’s too soon. I thought—”
He reached out and wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, trying to reassure her. “Of course I want to move in with you. I’m practically there every night anyway.”
She smiled, clearly pleased she hadn’t crossed some unspoken line.
“Though I think we should probably make it temporary.” Her face fell. “Until we can find a bigger place.” At that moment he didn’t know what was brighter—the streetlamps that turned the gravel to burnished gold or her smile at the suggestion they make a new home together.
She swatted at him, pummeling his arm. “You. Are. Terrible.”
He laughed, grabbing for her hand that was needling his bicep and tangling his fingers with hers as he grazed her knuckles with another kiss. “Well, we don’t have to, of course. But I thought you might like somewhere with a guesthouse. So that your mother can spend the night when she visits.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw she was beaming. The radiant gleam of her happiness could give the moon a run for its money.
“I’d like that,” she murmured. He settled their intertwined hands on the bench seat between them, not wanting to let go of her. She absentmindedly stroked at his hand with her thumb, and before he knew it, they were at her home. No, their home.
He pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. She leaned to open the door. “Wait.” He stopped her. “I want to sit here. For a moment. And imprint this memory in my heart.”
She sat back on the seat, smiling at him while he replayed the events of the night in his head. She’d propelled him across the red carpet, even kissing him when that photographer called for them to. The memory of it, only a few hours old, filled him with warmth. She was right. Tonight was their success, together, and she’d proudly claimed it as such. She’d pledged that day in Harry’s office four months ago that she was done hiding, and she’d been as good as her word. Better even. There’d been a few wisecracks on set from the crew, but she’d ignored them. The whispers and smirks had stopped within a week, after Harry had sent a memo telling the crew they could respect their director or seek employment at another studio. It was time for the next test—now that the press and soon the public would know. Don wanted to prove to her that no matter what, he would be there by her side.
He didn’t even open his door, but jumped from the driver’s seat over it onto the driveway. Who cared if he ripped his tux? It had served its purpose for the evening. “Show-off,” she said, laughing.
He crossed in front of the car and bent to one knee outside her door. He fished for the box in his breast pocket and pulled it out, popping open the lid and admiring the small baguette-cut diamond flanked by two emeralds perched atop the dainty gold band. The emeralds matched her eyes. It was why he’d chosen this ring. “What are you—” She laughed as she pushed open her door, but her words evaporated as she caught sight of him.
He watched her take him in, his position on the ground, the ring in its little black velvet box as it rested in his palm. “Yes.”
He laughed. “I didn’t even ask you yet.”
“You don’t have to. A thousand times yes. It’s been yes since I was sixteen years old, and it’s yes now. I love you, Don. I always have. Even when I didn’t like you, I loved you.” She took his face between her hands and kissed him, kneeling between his legs with no regard for her evening gown. When his lips met hers, she deepened the kiss, a little moan escaping from her. She grabbed the lapels of his tuxedo and pulled him toward her, but he broke away.
“Wait, the ring,” he huffed, kissing her hair and smoothing it from her brow.
She held out her left hand, trembling, and he slid the ring onto it. She reached out and with a few flicks of her fingers, she undid the bow tie at his neck, before using the ends of it to pull his mouth to hers. He laughed against her lips. “We’re only about ten feet from the front door,” he murmured against her mouth.
“I know. But I couldn’t wait.” He nuzzled her cheek and pulled her gently to her feet, scooping her into his arms to carry her to the bungalow.
She shrieked with laughter and buried her face in his neck. “Whatever you do, don’t drop me!”
He let his hands give a little, pretending to let her go, and she yelped. She clung to him even more tightly. He nipped at her ear with his teeth and stiffened as he felt her quiver at the touch. “That ring is a promise that I will never let you go. I was a fool to ever leave you behind.” She smiled against his cheek, and his heart felt near to bursting with happiness.
He set her gently on the front porch, letting her retrieve the house key from her clutch and open the door. She stepped inside and pulled him in after her, tugging once again at the loose ends of his tie. She laid a bruising kiss on him before breaking away and pressing her forehead to his chest.
“Before we go any further, I have something for you.”
He groaned. “I assure you, you are enough.”
She chuckled while still pressed against him, and he could feel the rumble of her laugh in his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “It’s on the table,” she whispered. He turned his head to the breakfast nook that was visible from the front door. There was a cardboard box sitting there, stained and crunched. It looked old.
He crossed the room, pressing his fingers to the lucky penny in its frame, now hanging on the wall next to the front door. The detectives had returned it after Frankie’s trial. He picked up the cardboard box, meeting her eyes and silently asking, “This?” She nodded. He gingerly lifted the lid to find a collection of newspaper clippings. He picked up the top one, spying his name in the headline. He continued to page through. Every single clipping was about him. Even the smaller pieces were about him. A few inches in a society column that someone had taken time to cut out. “I don’t understand.”
“Mom found them. On your old side of the house.”
“I knew my mother followed my career. But not this closely.” He fingered the pieces of paper gently, imagining the ghost of his mother’s touch, the care with which she had cut them out.
But beneath the clippings there was something heavy in the box. He was startled when he pulled out his father’s dog tags. Perhaps his mother had put them there for safekeeping.
“Mom found this box with your father’s things. In a chest. His work boots, his chewing tobacco, and this box.”
Don stilled, nearly crushing the papers in his hands. “No.” A knot of emotion built in his throat. It didn’t make sense. “He hated me. He thought it was all a waste of time.” His voice was choked with tears now, and he hated himself for it. He’d vowed when he was eighteen years old that he would never shed another tear because of his father.
Arlene went to him, wrapping her hands around his wrists. “Don’t you see, Don? Some part of him didn’t though. Some part of him was proud of you, followed you, tracked your every move.”
He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. “Then why—” He couldn’t finish the question. But Lena seemed to know what he was asking. She palmed his cheek and looked him in the eyes.
“I don’t know, Don. Maybe he was too proud to admit he was wrong. Maybe he figured he’d missed his chance to be part of your life. Maybe he was ashamed of how he’d treated you. There could be a million reasons.” He swallowed and nodded, letting go of Arlene to put the clippings back in the box. Arlene wound her fingers together and clasped them under her chin. “Did I make a mistake showing you? I thought you’d want to know.”
He shook his head, braced himself against her small table, and looked at the pile of clippings. He thought of all the times he’d dreamed of this—of having some shred of proof that his father was proud of him. That Michael Lazzarini believed in him. But now, Don felt nothing. “No,” he finally spoke. “You didn’t. I just…thought I’d feel differently. If this moment ever came.”
“How do you feel?”
He looked up at her then, meeting her forthright gaze, not a trace of guile or expectation there. The only thing her eyes held was love, a searching look that wanted to be sure he was okay. His eyes flicked to the ring, newly gleaming on her finger. A realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. This look—he’d seen it all his life. It was a look that said he didn’t need to prove himself, didn’t need to be anything but who he was, and that he was loved wholly and deeply as that man. He couldn’t believe he’d taken it for granted for so long, that he’d turned his back on it. Now, standing here holding a box of the proof of his father’s regard that he’d sought for years, that look, the look of Arlene Morgan’s unconditional love, was the only thing that mattered.
“I feel…like this is just a pile of paper.” She cocked her head and looked at him queerly, not understanding. “A pile of paper that doesn’t absolve him. Or me. Of everything that passed between us. A pile of paper that doesn’t mean anything because the only person whose love and approval I actually need is standing right here in this room.”
She bit her lip and smiled, tears welling in her eyes. He took two steps and closed the space between them, cupping her jaw with his hand and kissing the single tear that was streaming down her face. He pressed his cheek to hers and clung tightly to her. “The day I left, I vowed I would never need his blessing, never seek it again. It was the promise of an arrogant boy. Because I did want it, I hungered for it. Every dance competition I won. Every sold-out house I played, all I could think was ‘I’ll show him.’ When he died, I felt nothing. Just the need to keep going. To prove him wrong. But all this time, there was only one person besides myself that I ever needed to prove anything to.”
She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You never needed to prove yourself to me.”
“That’s why I want to,” he murmured, before capturing her bottom lip between his teeth and pulling until she moaned in delight. “I will prove myself to you every day for the rest of my life.” She huffed out a little breath that was somewhere between disbelief and pleasure before kissing the tip of his nose.
“You’ve proved yourself ten times over.”
“That’s not nearly enough times.” He smiled, capturing her mouth in a kiss that had her pressing against him, straining her body until there wasn’t a single inch of her that didn’t touch him. Touching his forehead to hers, he murmured, “Have I mentioned I love you?”
She twisted her fingers in the ends of his bow tie and pulled him down to meet her, stealing another kiss. “Tell me again.”
“I love you,” he murmured, alternating between the words and kisses that covered her entire face.
His hand wandered to the flowing, scooped neckline of her gown and dipped lower, finding the curve of her breast beneath the fabric. He found her nipple with his thumb and rubbed until it was a stiff peak against the gown.
He kissed her and grinned against her mouth. “You’re not wearing a bra.”
She nipped at his lip. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
He threw his head back and chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. “Any more surprises for the evening? Because I don’t know how many more I can stand.”
“Just one more.” She grinned, something naughty in her gaze. She took a step back, pulling away from their embrace. “But I think you’ll like this last one most.” Without warning, she peeled the straps of her gown from her arms and let it cascade to the floor, pooling at her feet exactly as he’d imagined it doing in the car. But in his fantasy, she’d been wearing a slip skirt, underwear, and garters. Now, she was wearing absolutely nothing but the engagement ring he’d put on her finger minutes before.
She’d been completely bare underneath her gown. “Christ, Lena, have you been like that all night?” She grinned, and it was all the confirmation he needed. He tore the loose bow tie from his collar and moved to unbutton his dinner shirt, the metal buttons clattering to the floor as he wrapped his hand around her bottom and pulled her to him. She moaned and threaded her hands through his now open shirt, across his bare chest. His hand wandered lower and found the place between her legs that made her gasp. He kissed her again, tangling his other hand in her hair.
“I didn’t think it was possible to want you more than I already did,” he growled as he plundered her mouth. His fingers found their own nimble path between her folds and slid into her until she arched her back and pressed into him, clawing at his back with her newly manicured nails. He lifted her up and felt her legs wrap around his waist, and he carried her into her bedroom, never breaking their kiss.
He laid her down on the bed, quickly climbing atop her, admiring the spread of her hair against the pillows. She was a Botticelli painting, luscious and languid before him. The idea that he could have this every night for the rest of his life was intoxicating. He kissed her again, huffing out a “fuck” against her lips as she palmed his cock in her hand. He moved down her body, kissing her neck, her collarbone, and her breasts, taking each nipple between his teeth and laving it until she let out a stream of adorable little pants. He curved his other hand inside of her, crooking his fingers, and the pants became a long, steady moan as she clenched around him and reached her climax. As she came back to herself, he lay his head across her bare chest.
“I need to call Harry,” he murmured.
She sat up on one elbow and looked him square in the eye. “Now? You can’t be serious.”
“But I need to talk to him about something very important in my contract.”
Irritated, she shoved him off of her, pushing herself up on her elbows. “I spend the entire night hoping nobody figures out that I’m not wearing any underwear, and this is what you’re thinking about before we make love.”
Her nipples perked up, her irritation flushing her skin a delectable pink color. He made a mental note to peeve her more often. She was irresistible when she was annoyed. “Well,” he drawled, pressing a kiss to the peak of her left breast. “Maybe it can wait until morning.”
“I would hope so,” she muttered.
“But I need to ask him for six weeks’ leave for us both. I plan on taking a very, very long honeymoon.”
He rested his chin in the space between her breasts and met her gaze. Her mouth was twisted in a scowl, but he could tell she was trying hard not to smile. She pulled the pillow from beneath her head and whacked him with it. “Why, you, you, you—”
“Consummate lover? Adonis? Perfection in the male form?” he called out, his voice muffled beneath the pillow.
He peered out from beneath the pillow to catch her rolling her eyes before she broke into a laugh. “I was going to say incorrigible tease.”
He blew a stream of air from his mouth, trying to move a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes when the pillow hit his face. “All right, fine then, don’t ask me where I plan to take you.”
He rolled off of her and flopped onto his back, staying still and waiting her out. Finally, her curiosity won out, as he’d known it would, and her fingers stroked at his shoulder. “Where are you planning to take me?”
“Well…” He rolled onto his stomach and looked at her. Her beauty took his breath away, but he couldn’t resist teasing her again. “I don’t think we need to leave this room, do you?” He raised his eyebrows and waggled them, eliciting a deep-throated laugh from her that shot straight to his cock.
One thing he’d always loved about her, before he’d actually known that he loved her, was her ability to go toe-to-toe with him. She was his equal in every way. No, she exceeded him. And it was the most attractive thing he could imagine. She raised her eyebrows in the mirror of his own face, assuming an air of skepticism. “Prove it,” she challenged him.
And he did. The rest of that night, and every night thereafter. He proved the only thing he’d ever actually needed to prove—that he loved Arlene Morgan, cherished her really, and he would do everything in his power to remind her of that fact on a daily basis. As she, in turn, reminded him.