Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
ROSE
The white gown, with shimmering diamonds covering the bodice, is elegant. Beautiful. A real wedding dress. Everything I’ve ever dreamed about, and yet, a small part of me longs for that little short dress Dare insisted I wear for our first ceremony. It was sexy, and that night was the first time Dare lost a little bit of control.
But today isn’t about the past.
It’s about our future, and the woman staring back at me in the mirror is wearing a smile. Not one pasted on for the pleasure of other people, but a real, genuine smile that fills the room with sunshine.
Or maybe that’s the two women bustling around me, fixing my train, cooing over the dress, and telling me how pretty I look. Who wouldn’t feel amazing with that sort of praise ?
Analise, one of Dare’s sisters, joins me at the mirror. Her blonde hair is pulled into an updo with yellow roses that match the color of her bridesmaid dress pinned in her hair. “Wow, my brother doesn’t deserve you.”
“It’s not too late to run away,” Emmie, Dare’s other sister, offers, stopping beside her sister and looking at my reflection. Today, in the matching bridesmaid dresses, it’s even harder to tell them apart. The only way I’ve learned who is who is by the subtle difference in the shape of their noses. Emmie’s is a little thinner than Analise’s. Like Dare, their features are as perfect as the Greek statues—symmetrical faces, pretty jawlines, high cheekbones, and rich, dark brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, and their reentry into NYC caused a stir with the city’s most eligible bachelors, but they’ve spent the last year enjoying their newfound freedom.
I don’t blame them. After a decade of hiding, they’d more than earned every minute of independence.
Most of the world mourned the loss of Joseph Miller, who was suspected to have a stroke as he drove along the coast and lost control of his car, but the Richardson family finally found a reason to celebrate. The twins moved into my house, since I moved into Dare’s. Joseph’s funeral was on a Saturday, and for the sake of appearances, I attended, but I made sure his grave was nowhere near Mom’s. No one was surprised by the giant plot of land Joseph picked for his final resting place.
Losing him was different from losing Mom. There are still strange moments of sadness I don’t quite understand, given that he was so terrible to me at the end. I still have some good memories of him, and I’ve chosen to think of my dad as the man in those, and Joseph Miller as the man who owned JD Miller they’re here to show their loyalty.
A church full of people who care less about me and more about money has a way of making me feel lonely. That unwelcome feeling swirls around me, but then, my gaze meets a familiar one. Irene’s watery grin hits my heart. The woman who used to humor me and take my childhood drawings, the one who always had a bagel waiting for me, and the one who somehow became family, is exactly who I needed to see. She’s a reminder that I have a small circle, but in this violent world, where loyalty is hard to find, that’s all I need.
Irene is wearing a pretty blue dress, and her graying hair is loose and curled. You look beautiful , she mouths.
Thank you, I say back, cheeks aching from the fresh smile.
Frank pats my arm, letting me know we’re almost to Dare, and I nod at Irene before facing forward. Dare’s eyes bore into mine, and I can practically hear the beast snarling you’re mine.
Frank stops before the stairs and Dare.
I tip my head and lift an eyebrow, holding out my hand and waiting for him to make his decision.
Dare smirks and snatches my palm, tugging me forward and making me stumble into his chest. I gasp, but his lips steal the sound, breaking protocol and claiming me once again. The crowd cheers, and Dare’s tongue caresses mine one last time before he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine.
“You didn’t wait for the priest,” I whisper with a giggle.
“Fuck the priest,” Dare mutters. “I love you, Rose.”
“I love you too, Dare.”
Standing at the bow of the yacht, I lean against the railing and gaze out across the rippling water, watching the sunlight glimmer off the crests of the waves. A smile plays across my face. God, I love it here.
Fiji is a welcome escape from the harsh New York City winters.
My hair is in a bun, but a few strands rip free and tease the warm air.
A hard body presses against mine, and that familiar vetiver scent coils around me, but the sudden press of a blade at my throat has my breath catching. “Wife.”
“Dare,” I say, leaning against his chest and away from the knife.
“Scared?” he teases.
“Not of you, but we are on a boat, and I’m not about to let a wave rock into the boat and have you accidentally kill me.”
He sighs and flips the knife, holding it away from my body. “I hate it when you use logic.”
Giggling, I turn and lock my hands around his neck to gaze into his dark brown eyes. “You love me.”
“More than you know,” he admits, catching my lips for a quick kiss, but I pull away and lift an eyebrow.
“What’s with the knife?”
He searches my face. “I thought it was time we get rid of the evidence.”
The murder weapon. A grin tugs at my lips. “What, now that we renewed our vows, you finally think I’ll stay?”
“Something like that,” he says, mirth dancing in his gaze. “Turn around.”
“You’re so bossy.”
“Rose,” he warns.
Sighing, I roll my eyes and do as I’m told, but not without grumbling in annoyance.
His laughter caresses over my skin, and he grabs my hand, placing the knife in my palm and curling my fingers around it. Once I’m holding my hand over the railing of the bow, he grips my hips and presses a kiss to my neck. “Don’t drop it.”
The warm caress of his breath on my skin has my toes curling, but then his hand slips under my sundress, dips into my panties, and cups my pussy.
“Dare,” I breathe.
“Shh.”
“Don’t shush me.”
He slaps my cunt, and I gasp, my grip tightening on the knife. “Be good or I’ll fuck you in front of the captain.”
“He’d probably like it,” I tease.
“You want another dead body to dispose of?” he asks right as he pushes two fingers into me.
Pleasure blooms inside my stomach and I sigh. “I guess not,” I admit.
“Good,” he praises, rolling his thumb over my clit.
Electricity bolts through me and my arm trembles. “I won’t be able to hang on if you keep this up.”
“That’s the point,” Dare says, biting my neck and pumping his fingers. “You’ll come for me like a good wife, won’t you?”
“Always,” I murmur, rocking into his touch. Focusing on holding the knife is difficult when Dare touches me. He teases me, knowing all the right ways to build my orgasm. My chest heaves and my grip on the blade loosens. His thumb rolls over my clit faster and faster. I whimper, surrendering.
Dare chuckles.
And I let go.
~ ~