Epilogue
SAMANTHA
The next year goes fast, and Harrison and I fall madly in love. We then decide, and we follow through with precision.
We plan a small and private gathering on the estate, and elite security are brought in to keep paparazzi and even their choppers away.
We have plenty of friends and entertainment people between us, but we are, above all, private.
Like Harry, I don’t invite too many people, like old colleagues, chefs, or old friends.
Harrison invites some of his media contacts, but only his closest friends. That naturally being Troy and Rhett, plus a few other guys and people.
As several private jets arrive, my excited friend Cassidy, Harrison, Troy and I look on.
The last jet to land is owned by media royalty, and Troy’s family. That being the rest of the Remington family, who just flew in from the Hamptons.
Slowly, the passengers descend the jet’s stairs, and Harry, Cassidy, and I look up, with Rhett, Troy, and William.
First, movie star Ryan Remington exits, and he beams in the sunlight.
As Ryan, Troy, and Chris’s mother, Grace Remington, exits the jet, it’s as if time itself freezes. I had heard Grace is all class, and Harrison was not wrong.
The aging movie star looks stunning and timeless.
Grace is supposedly in her sixties, but she looks forty-five. She glides more than walks, and she is divine. In a class of her own.
The last out is the very single super-agent brother, Chris Remington. As Chris descends the jet’s stairs in his perfectly cut black suit, he pulls on dark glasses.
“Oh, my God!”
I spin to Cassidy, and I raise a brow. “Sorry,” she says, before turning red. “But really?”
She is not wrong. Like Troy, Chris does look like an Italian fashion model straight off some magazine cover.
The Remingtons gather below their jet, and they check they have all they need. Troy welcomes his brothers and mother, and I still can’t believe how handsome he is, or how and why he is single.
I’m disappointed Anastasia couldn’t make it, but again she is on another large movie.
We are driven back to the chateau in several vehicles, and I sit in the old Land Rover with Harry, Troy, Rhett, and Cassidy.
William drives several Remingtons in the old Rolls Royce, and it’s good to see the old car get some use.
We are just in time as my mom, my brother, and two cousins, plus an aunt, arrive. We all hug, and Harry and I introduce those who have not met.
As we have welcome drinks on the terrace overlooking the yellow roses and lake, we talk.
Cassidy explains to me why she’s come alone, and I sadly feel it was a wise choice.
Ted, her weird tech-head hubby, is harmless, but he is not exactly cutting-edge fun.
I feared in advance Harry and his media pals would not want to bore themselves with talk of computer chips or hard drives.
As Cass and I discuss the planned wedding, I notice Troy Remington look at Cass with hungry eyes. He must not already know she is married, and he will need to be kept at bay.
Reclusive hunks with wicked needs are a tinder box and dangerous.
As I notice Cass biting her lip, I chase her away and remind her she is married. Very married! Not that she would let a grumpy hunk like Troy Remington in her panties.
Even if Troy is almost as hot as my Harrison, he would ruin Cass for good. Troy will no doubt find his mate, and then the world would be safe.
Again.
After Mom and I catch up, and we both shed a few tears, Grace joins us. She and Mom get on, which is cool, and then it’s finally time.
Time to put my wedding dress on.
My stomach flutters as Cass helps me with it upstairs. She drools over it, and her eyes are as big as plates. It is a classy and timeless white gown, and I adore every inch of it.
It is a one of a kind, and from an upcoming NYC designer I have come to adore.
I feel special, and even if I may have a few more curves than other women, things have gone well, and today is my day.
As I stand in a mirror and adjust myself, Cassidy gives me a small speech about marriage. I take it in, like a more mature version of myself.
We then discuss the coming ceremony, and next two hours, as we do my hair. After a minute, Cass shakes her head. “What?” I ask, confused.
“You marrying someone magazines and newspapers call The Media King.”
“That’s just his surname. You know his name is Harrison King. It’s not a thing.”
“I call bullshit. It is, and you need to get online every now and then. Harry is called that because he is a major player in media, and entertainment. And if Harry is the Media King, then you are going to be who?”
“What are you talking about, woman?”
“You will be the Queen!”
“The heck I will,” I say nervously.
I gulp and suddenly worry about the press and media as the sound of a circling chopper drones on. I then take a long nervous pull on my French champagne.
Harry is super low profile, and we never have any press or paparazzi around. We need it to stay that way.
I pull Cass’s hand, and we head downstairs. Harry and I agreed it is no problem to see each other in our wedding clothes before our gentle lakeside wedding.
I find him on the terrace, and he looks impeccable. Harry is wearing a unique black suit, and he looks divine.
As we kiss, another private jet banks around, and it comes to land next to the others.
Harry excuses himself, and he and William head away in the old Land Rover.
Twenty minutes later, as we all talk around the rose garden, and as people drink champers, two strange looking second cousins of Harrison’s are introduced. I’ve never heard of them, and Harry leans in close.
He then tells me some odd distant relative, likely a cousin of an aunt or something like that, must have sent them invites.
It is good to know Harry does have a few distant relatives, even if they are dressed rather casually.
After we are all settled, William informs all we will soon have the ceremony.
My heart flutters, and I am suddenly nervous and excited. I share looks with Mom and Harry, and I blush. I’m still getting used to this all, but I know I am ready.
Ready to build a family with him.
Deciding to have our ceremony down at the lake with a celebrant we’d met months back was the right thing to do.
The weather is perfect, and the two dogs have bows around their necks as they watch on.
We are on the jetty over the lake, and the once gruff, still demanding in bed Harrison looks gorgeous.
His perfectly cut black suit fits like a glove, and he glows. I, however, beam inside.
We both say what we have worked on for months, and I have trouble not crying. Harry’s perfect words are like little arrows in my big, silly heart.
Thank God the celebrant keeps things moving, as I’m close to really losing it. Blubbering in front of these people—not such a good look.
The next minute is like a dream, and then finally, the ring goes on and we kiss.
I melt into the man I love, and then finally people cheer loud.
We follow William to the grand ballroom, and we drink while there are colorful speeches. Some are from Harrison’s billionaire friends, and some are from less wicked people, including Mom, Cassidy, and even Harry himself.
Troy is best man, and his speech is touching. His words meaningful, and magical.
As the stars form above the lake, we dine outside and start to dance.
I change into something less ‘wine spill disaster’ and I start to relax.
As the moon emerges above the horizon, Harry’s two ultra-private cousins mumble something about it being time to get back into it.
Harry has a few quiet words with them, away from us all. The two men then talk to me, and they talk almost in a whisper. They tell me to call if we ever have trouble.
I have no idea what they mean, but somehow, I can tell they are protective, and wealthy.
After they take off to fly south, their sleek jet banks around the chateau. “They must be doing something right,” I say quietly.
Harry shakes his head in disbelief and he leans in close. “Don’t tell a soul, but those two lunatic farmers own half of Idaho.”
I raise a brow, and he whispers, “And two other states.”
No wonder they showed little interest in media, movie or fashion chit chat.
“Farming, and big,” Harrison says, helping me understand. “And the weird bit, when they saw the chateau, they called it a ‘cute little spot.’ The thing is, they weren’t being rude. They simply have money. Real money. And old old.”
“Cute and little?” I ask, eyes big.
Harry nods as people dance and drink. “As teens, they inherited money, like I did. They then ploughed it all into farms and worked on them 24/7. They then borrowed and expanded like maniacs. They didn’t get caught up in the media, movie, and advertising game like me.
They just kept working and buying land. They then bought the bank that they used to borrow money from. ”
We both laugh and walk back to our friends.
Married.
As we talk, share, laugh, and drink, we dance under the stars. I look around, and the humble beautiful people I am now calling my own friends laugh, dance, and talk.
It’s hard to work out why so many hot billionaires are bachelors, but like Harry once said, to make it in media, you almost need to be a workaholic. That basically means you become what? Stressed and grumpy.
Mix in hot, and there you have it.
It is a perfect evening as I hold one of our growing dogs, laugh, and talk. I could not feel more loving, more content, or more loved.
As I stand outside the chateau, our home, with our closest family and friends, I breathe deep. I’ve come a long way.
Everyone important to me is here, and everything I need is here. I am finally where I need to be.
During our extended honeymoon, Harry and I travel to several countries and we do it onboard his jet. I show him some of my old workplaces, including several world-class restaurants in London and Rome.
At the same time, Harry shows me his, or as he likes to call them, our current offices in London, Rome, and Tokyo.