21. Tonight
Chapter twenty-one
Tonight
Kira
T he room buzzed with more patrons. The grand paintings on the walls were by a new artist who made a strange and ominous study about fate. The artist, Jorik Barkada, was an overnight success with evocative interpretations of fatalistic moments.
Juliet, taking poison over the body of her lover. Orpheus, the seconds before he looked over his shoulder, and Eurydice was yanked back into the underworld. Hector, kissing his infant son goodbye, before leaving the walls of Troy to confront Achilles. Ajax, receiving Hector’s sword, which he would use to take his life.
Each tragic reality was contrasted with the happiness that could have been, but never would.
Tragedy, at the heartbreaking moment of hope.
His technique was quite basic and almost sloppy. There was a messiness to it that was distinctly his own. It looked like his hands were shaking as he painted these pieces. But in the shakiness of the strokes was something special too - it was almost an unintentional fuzziness that gave the art a dreamlike quality.
The artist was dreaming of a happy ending that would never come to pass.
Tragic. Evocative. Beautiful.
“Don’t make me jealous, by admiring this painter more than me.” I had felt him before I heard him.
Maybe by only a second or so, but I knew it was him. His scent, his presence. The way he displaced everything in the room with his peculiar brand of magnetism.
I smiled to myself, not turning around to look at him, even as I felt his warmth creeping up from behind me.
Then a salacious thought came to my mind - did he like the view?
“Will you be a jealous husband?” I pursed my lips to hide my grin of happiness.
I had missed him while he was gone. Far more than I cared to admit.
“Very.” He chuckled. “Possessive too, and insatiable in bed.”
God, his words made my knees weak. “Will you let me work after we…?”
I let the rest of the question hang in the air. The question of marriage.
“Of course.”
I turned my head just a little, catching a glimpse of him in my peripheral vision. “Will you be faithful to me? I know a lot of rich men aren’t…”
He didn’t let me finish my thought. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling my back to his chest, and leaning over my shoulder until his lips were at my cheek.
“Until my life is done, I will never have another.” He didn’t so much growl the words, as he declared it. It was a pledge. An oath. He meant every word. “You will be blood of my blood. Your wants will become my needs. Your promises will become my vows, and your pain will be my humiliation.”
I gasped, because those words, in that formal, ancient way he delivered them filled me with a sense of certainty I had never had before. It was that sense of fate and foreboding that we would be married, and it would be eternal. There would be no escape, and therefore, no reason to resist.
“I signed your papers.” I finally turned in the circle of his arms.
I should care that anyone could see us in our embrace. I should be embarrassed by such a public display, but I wasn’t. Because he wasn’t.
“You accept, then?” His voice was quiet and uncertain, like he was holding his breath.
“I… I just have one more question.”
“Ask it, love.”
“Love? It’s funny you use that word because…” I took a deep breath because I needed to steady myself. Because whatever the answer, I knew it would make me weak in the knees. “I want to know if you… Do you love me?”
His serious face cracked a little, as a slow, lopsided grin spread over his lips.
“As St. Peter loved the Church.”
I had no idea what that meant. Was that a yes?
It took a second for his words to register.
I covered my mouth to cover a laugh. “You’re… Catholic, then?”
“Aye, of course. I’m Irish.” He nodded, lifting a brow. “Though I’m quite… lapsed.”
“Is it a problem if I’m not?”
“Is it a problem if I am?”
“I guess not but…”
He reached down and grabbed my left hand. He pulled something from his pocket, and in one swift movement, he placed a large emerald ring on my finger. It was big and bright, of the deepest green, surrounded by diamonds. It covered my entire finger below the lowest joint, and while I wasn’t an expert on gems, I think the carat weight of the side stones alone could buy my entire apartment building.
“Jesus,” I sighed, in awe as I stared down on the monstrosity. “It’s the size of a planet.”
He chuckled again, the sound filling me with a sense of calm.
“Not quite, Miss Kekoa.” He held my hand up, bringing my palm to his lips. After placing a small kiss on my sensitive lifeline, he said, “It’s a 10-carat natural emerald, with 5 carat diamonds in the halo and eternity band.”
I blinked at the unusual, gaudy ring.
It was so over-the-top, just like the man himself. It wasn't to my taste. I didn’t wear jewelry because it didn’t go with my image. But maybe my taste wasn’t what was important here. The ring should embody my groom, and nothing was more “Eoghan Green” than a big ass emerald that no one would miss.
“It was my mother’s,” he finally said, placing my hand on his chest, the damn stone glinting back at me.
“I… you can’t give me this!” I was overwhelmed by the urge to remove it from my hand and get it back into the expensive velvet box it must have normally resided in.
It needed to be in a museum; or at least a safety deposit box, behind fireproof walls, and tempered glass, surrounded by bodyguards.
“Your mother’s…” The images of Isla Green’s end flashed through my mind. Photographs strewn about a cheap government desk. Her face, her eyes… her misery.
He placed his hand over my overladen hand.
“You can’t take it off now, love. You’ve accepted my proposal.” Eoghan’s smile faded away. “I’ll be very disappointed if I see this hand bare.”
He reached out with his free hand, taking my chin between his index finger and thumb.
“I’ll have to bend you over and spank your arse red if I ever see you without this ring on your hand.”
My eyes shuttered at the sound of his words. It felt as if his voice caressed my throat, like a lover’s hand, curling his long fingers until he controlled my breath.
He took my heavy hand in his, and in one sexy, suggestive movement, took my ring finger into his mouth, down to above the gem and sucked on my digit. He slowly released my finger, until he nipped at the pad of my finger.
I would have been revolted if any other man did that. But with Eoghan, it took my breath away.
“I’ve claimed you, Miss Kekoa.” He kissed my palm, cradling it against his lips. “You’re mine now.”
I should have heard sirens blaring, and red flags flying. But instead it sent a warm shiver up my spine and all I wanted to do was fall into his arms, and reaffirm that yes - I was his, I was no longer Miss Kekoa but instead Mrs. Eoghan Green. I wanted our life together to start right now.
It was fate. We were fate. We were destined.
I believed it because he believed it. Whether it was God, or many Gods, or some other cosmic or karmic power, we were intertwined from now until the end of time.
I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I didn’t want to fight the world by myself. I wanted him.
“When do we…” I wasn’t sure what I was asking. When do we pull the trigger? When do we tie the knot?
“What are you doing tonight?” He smiled, keeping my palm against his mouth, his warm breath caressing my sensitive skin, making goosebumps spread up my arm to my chest and my hardening nipples.
“Are you serious?” I tried to laugh, even as the desire to be his legal wife, sooner rather than later, pierced through me like lightning. “Tonight?”
“Yes.” He leaned down, bringing his forehead to mine. “There’s no need to delay, Miss Kekoa.”
“I’m… working tonight…”
“After work then.”
I laughed even more at the absurdity of it all. He didn’t look annoyed with me. In fact, he was perfectly unphased.
And maybe I deserved this. I deserved to be swept off my feet and feel adored.
I deserved to be showered with a thousand orchid blossoms by a rich man in a designer suit, with a sexy as sin accent, and a hint of danger that made my heart flutter.
“I should get a dress, and… I don’t know. Get my hair done?” What the hell was I supposed to be doing?
My hand, with his mother’s precious ring, was over his heart. His hand pinned it to him with a possessiveness that made my knees weak.
His heartbeat wasn’t rushed and didn’t match his insistence that we tie the knot tonight.
He was steady. Sure. Reliable.
“There’ll be no place to buy a dress or a hairdresser open after work… I…”
I didn’t know if I wanted him to come up with another solution, or if I wanted to delay this thing that was moving way too fast.
I wanted him to kiss me. Was that silly?
Shouldn’t that be what happens when a man puts his ring on your finger? They kiss you passionately, and deeply?
Or was I stuck in some old romantic notion that had no place in today’s society? I wasn’t sure. I had no fucking idea what was happening anymore. I was caught in a storm, fighting wind, dodging debris, trying to stay dry while attempting to survive.
The world was moving around me, and I was afraid of getting swept away - and at the same time, wanting to drift away on the exciting current.
“Love, one thing you need to learn is that having money means that the stores are never closed.”
He smirked, as if he had read my thoughts. He placed his index finger under my chin, tilting my face towards his. I longed to kiss him. I wanted him to lean forward, and plant a passionate kiss on my mouth. But he didn’t.
“I’ll have the car come and take you someplace that will be open. Pick a dress. Get your jewels. You have my card.” He leaned in, until his mouth was just a hair’s breadth from mine.
I thought he was going to kiss me. Hell, I wanted him to kiss me. But he pivoted at the last minute and planted a kiss on my forehead. It was gentle, and sweet. Not at all what I expected from him. “I’ll be waiting at the church, whenever you are ready.”