23. Phoenix
Phoenix
E ven though she’s expecting me, I rap my knuckles on Michaela’s door.
She opens it.
She looks as fresh as a bouquet. She’s only wearing a touch of makeup, and the large diamond stud earrings I gave her yesterday lighten up her angelic face.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Good morning.” She lets me in.
I close the door behind me.
I turn to face her and take her in. “You look absolutely beautiful.”
Her sexy body is adorned in a long floral dress with bold printed bright pink flowers against a white background. The spaghetti straps and seductive V neckline accentuates her slender neck and showcases the swell of her luscious tits.
Damn.
Since she’s not as tall as she was yesterday, I can only assume her heels aren’t skyscrapers.
“Thank you. It’s one of the new dresses I bought thanks to your generosity,” she says.
“Stop saying that. It’s my pleasure. I benefit from everything you wear as much as you do.”
She laughs a little. “You’re so cocky.”
I stroke my clean-shaven chin. “We haven’t known each other long, but I’m pretty sure you figured that out when we first met.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Speaking of which, we’ve known each other for a week. It hit me as I was walking to your room.”
“Talk about a whirlwind week,” she says.
“From strangers to newlyweds in less than seven days.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
“I did. Hands-down, that is the most comfortable bed ever.” She points to the king-size bed. “It was like sleeping on a cloud.”
After what we shared yesterday, not sleeping in the same bed seems ridiculous, but there are enough moving parts to our fake story. Wilder may be in the know about the changes in our arrangement, but Slate and Dad aren’t.
“You can’t take the hotelier out of Dad.
He doesn’t kid around when it comes to a good night’s sleep.
All the mattresses in the mansion are the same custom-design signature beds we have at the Pompadour.
Guests love them so much, they’re always begging to buy them.
It took us a while to make the decision, but in the end, we caved in.
For the last two years, we’ve been selling them on our website.
You wouldn’t believe how many orders we get each and every week.
So much so, we had to hire staff to man a dedicated department. ”
“You’re kidding?”
“I’m not.”
“Incredible,” she says. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you slept.”
“I didn’t have a good night’s sleep, to be honest.”
“How come?”
I approach her. “I was forced to sleep alone.” I lean in and drop a soft kiss on her lips. “I would’ve rather slept in the same bed as my wife.”
Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink.
“It would’ve made it a hell of a lot easier for my morning wood.”
I grab her by the waist and pull her body against mine, pressing her against my erection.
“Phoenix. Your father is somewhere in the house and the staff is buzzing about,” she says. “Not to mention, last night was pretty wild and intense.”
She’s right.
After a second raunchy round in the garage, stepping back into the mansion would’ve been mission impossible .
Lucky for us, Wilder came to the rescue.
I texted him to grab a couple plush terrycloth robes embroidered with our family crest from the home spa.
The few guests who saw us walking back inside assumed we had gone for a swim.
“I’ll behave,” I say. “Ready for breakfast?”
“I’m starved.”
“I could eat a restaurant out of business. I went for a swim early this morning.”
Her eyes widen. “How could you get up to exercise when we went to bed at three o’clock in the morning?”
The festivities lasted until the wee hours.
“It was either that or jerk off to release the tension. Turns out, after a vigorous swim, I still had to take care of my cock in the shower. I blame not being able to fuck my wife first thing this morning for my predicament.”
She brings her hands up and covers her face. “The things that come out of your mouth.”
“You asked.” I grab her hands, forcing them away from her face and bring them to my lips. I drop two soft kisses against them.
She laughs.
“In any case, on my way back to my room, I stopped by the kitchen for a bottle of water and a banana. The kitchen staff went overboard. Brace yourself for quite the feast.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“We’re gathering in the theater room—it’s a carbon copy of a VIP viewing room you’d expect to find on the executive floor of any notable Hollywood studio. Dad asked Louis to make sure the staff sets up breakfast in there?—”
“I still can believe your father has a long-time, trusted British majordomo who oversees everything, including managing the household staff.”
“Dad would be lost without Louis.”
She shakes her head. “You billionaires live large—” She frowns.
“What?”
“We’re watching a movie while having breakfast?”
“No. The room is fully soundproof. Therefore, it ensures complete privacy.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Why is that important?”
“Dad wants to have a conversation.”
“That sounds serious.”
“He has a few concerns.”
“About what?”
“I’ll find out at the same time you do,” I say. “Wilder and Slate will join us. As much as Dad wants your father to join us, it might be tricky to explain to Uncle Ian why he’s not invited to breakfast.”
“I thought we pulled it off.”
“So did I.”
“I’m sorry.” Remorse morphs her beautiful features.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I didn’t live up to my end of the bargain. I let you down.”
I bring my fingers to her unpainted lips and trace their contour.
“You were amazing yesterday. Heck, you even had me fooled, and I was in on it.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“Michaela, let’s not jump to conclusions. We’re going to go downstairs together, enjoy a delicious, hearty breakfast and hang out with my father and brothers. Once we know what’s at stake, we’ll face it together . We’re a team, remember?”
“We’re a team.”
I take her by the hand and lead her to the door.
With our fingers interlaced, we trail down the stairs and stride towards the theater room, greeting staff and accepting congratulations on the way.
We’re the poster couple of wedded bliss. Almost.
Slate arrives at the same time we do, a smile tugging his mouth when he sees my wife. “Good morning, Michaela.” He kissES her on the cheek. “You look lovely, as usual.”
“Thank you and good morning to you, Slate,” she says.
“You look well rested,” he says. “I gather you approve of our mattresses.”
“That’s putting it lightly. Did you sleep well?”
My brother’s smile slips. “Until six o’clock, yes.”
“Oh.” Michaela frowns. “You couldn’t fall back asleep after waking up?”
Slate turns his attention to me, his gaze narrowed.
Is that anger I read in his eyes?
“What the hell was that about this morning in the pool? I was convinced you were trying to exorcize some kind of demon, or was that your way of purging all the alcohol from your system?”
No, it was my attempt to curtail my overwhelming desire for my wife.
“And did you have to play music that loud while you were at it?”
Okay, the music might’ve been a bit too loud, but he doesn’t have to chew my ass off.
“What? I don’t deserve a good morning?” My tone is sarcastic.
“Not when you awake me before the fucking roosters,” Slate says.
“You didn’t have to sleep here last night.
” I glower at him. “I specifically remember Dad’s invitation extended to my wife and me.
You could’ve gone back to your place. Wilder did.
” None of the guests stayed at my father’s mansion.
He made arrangements at one of our many hotels for all the out-of-town guests.
“What crawled up your fucking ass this morning?”
The door to the theater room flies open.
Dad steps out. “Boys, you’re grown men.” His furious eyes bounce from me to Slate. “Stop acting like children.”
My brother and I simmer down.
“Come inside.” Dad gestures.
We obey.
Wilder is already here.
After a round of good mornings, Dad invites us to grab some food.
He doesn’t have to ask twice.
The five of us make our way to a table weighed down with a scrumptious feast. With generous plates in hand, we all sit at a round table the staff placed in the room. Dad and I flank Michaela.
“You two are trending,” Dad says.
“I haven’t checked social media yet. After my swim, I jumped on a conference call with my executive assistant. I had to give my approval on a few things relating to the Paris trip. Since Michaela and I leave tonight, time is of the essence.”
He nods. “Did you catch any of the headlines, Michaela?”
“No,” she says. “The media can be cruel when it comes to dissecting fashion, especially when it comes to a wedding. I’d rather keep my head in the sand for a little longer.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Dad says. “The media crowned you, reigning queen.”
Michaela blushes. “Are you kidding me?”
Dad chuckles. “The publicist texted me to let me know you’ve been voted Most Beautiful Bride of the Year by a number of influential publications.”
Michaela’s green eyes widening. “I have?”
“Yes.” Dad grabs his phone from the table, unlocks it, and hands it to her.
‘Michaela Knight, now Mrs. Michaela Konig, sets the standard for years to come when she said “I do” in a show-stopping, elegant white gown designed by Salvatore Venturoli. She wore it and the Swarovski crystal tiara like a queen, a nod to her aristocratic heritage.’
She reads the press coverage out loud. “Gosh, that’s a lot of pressure,” she says, lifting her eyes from the screen as she hands Dad the device.
“Not really, since you already hold the title, sis,” Wilder says.
We all laugh.
“Why did you call this meeting, Dad? What’s up?” I cut to the chase.
“Potter,” Dad says, placing his phone on the table.
I arch a brow. “We all know he’s annoying as fuck, but what did he do now?”
“I wasn’t kidding last night when I said he was a little too obsessed with Michaela––”
“Understandably.” Wilder cuts in. “She’s gorgeous.”
“That she is.” Dad nods.