Epilogue
“So, here’s the thing,” Leo says into my ear as Wren brushes something over her eyelids in the bathroom, a room over.
She turns to me as if she knows I’m watching, her eyes lighting up when they meet mine before she blows me a kiss before returning to her makeup.
“I can’t guarantee anything. Despite what anyone tells you, I’m human.
However, I do have a large network of contacts.
If you want to disappear into bumfuck nowhere and never have the press bother you, I can work some magic.
But that’s also assuming no one in the town wants to out you, et cetera. ”
I nod with understanding, even though he can’t see it, then turn my back to Wren so I can focus on the conversation at hand.
Leo and I are in the final conversation about him taking me on as a client after his lawyer reviewed my contract with Greg and determined that nothing legally tied me to my former agent.
While Greg would continue to receive royalties for previous projects I did with him as my agent, he has no legal tie to anything moving forward if I so choose.
When Greg caved and confessed that he had wanted me to do more Christmas songs, as they were an easy sell and less work for him, I fired him on the spot, which means I’m in the market for a new agent.
I just finished telling Leo I would like to write and produce, but would be doing so primarily from Holly Ridge, and I would like to do so without attracting too much public attention. I want to live a simple life now that I’ve gotten a taste of it, and it seems Leo is on board with that.
“That’s fine. I don’t mind doing press junkets when needed, but I want the focus to be on the music, not me. I want to be as uninteresting as possible, so no one even cares about me.”
“Got it, we can make that happen,” Leo says. Another weight leaves my chest, though I wasn’t actually worried about his accepting that demand. It’s more about having confirmation that I can actually balance both aspects of my life, which eases the small bit of nerves lingering in my chest.
I turn to the balcony of the room Wren and I are staying in, the Eiffel Tower beyond lit up as Leo continues to rattle off terms for the contract he’s sending over for me.
I took Wren to Paris.
It was her Christmas present, something I had coordinated and planned in under a week with the help of Hallie.
She contacted everyone whom Wren had promised favors to on my behalf and quietly asked them to find someone else, knowing that would be Wren’s first reason to turn down my gift.
School would be the second reason, but since New Year’s landed in a weird spot this year, it meant winter break was a bit longer than usual.
I jumped on the opportunity to take her away as soon as possible, before she could overthink anything.
I gifted her the tickets, along with some luggage and a few odds and ends, on Christmas Eve when we exchanged gifts (a necessity since she didn’t want to gift me risque lingerie in front of her parents, whose house we went to bright and early on Christmas morning), and we left on the twenty-sixth.
We’re only here for a week, heading home on the third so Wren can get back to work on Monday, but I’m already dreaming up plans for spring break and a longer trip over her summer vacation.
Wren wants to travel, and I’m going to give everything to the woman who gives everything to everyone else. That unused passport is about to become mighty full if I have my way.
Our first day here, we attended the last day of the Christmas market in Strasbourg, knowing from my research that Wren would find it absolutely magical.
We then explored the city of Paris, finding every other Christmas market that was still open for the season.
Yesterday, I took her on a self-guided Madeline tour I found on the internet, and she had a blast pointing out all of the different locations with awe and excitement.
Now she’s getting ready for dinner at the Eiffel Tower while I wrap up my call with Leo, who, as soon as I sign the contract, will be my new agent.
“It all sounds great,” I say, even though I’m barely listening. My new lawyer has already reviewed the contract, one not recommended to me by Greg, to confirm it looks good, and I’ve received the go-ahead. “You’re hired, Leo.”
“Perfect. I’ll send the contract to you now.
In about an hour, some onboarding documents will be sent to your inbox.
Take your time filling them out; there’s no rush.
Our first project together is already a sure thing.
Willa’s been sending me concept ideas for a music video for ‘Are You Mine’? Already.”
My heart pounds with his words.
I finished the song on Christmas Eve while Wren baked more cookies than anyone could eat to take to her mom’s house the next day, and she cried when I played it for her.
It’s the song I started the first night I had Wren.
“I don’t want to be pushy, I—”
“Are you mine?”
The title I found the first night she let me help her out.
“Are you mine?”
“Yeah, Wren. I’m yours.”
“I take care of what’s mine, Adam.”
The bridge I wrote as soon as the headache wore off after she took care of me.
“Are you mine?”
“Yeah, Adam. I’m yours.”
I finished the song the day after I told her I loved her.
And now Willa Stone is telling me it’s going to be the lead single for her next album.
“It’s going to be a hit,” Leo says. “I have a solid eye for this kind of thing, and I’m telling you, it’s going to be Song of the Year, if I have my way.”
My breathing hitches in my chest at the thought. “The contract should be in your inbox,” he says, as if he didn’t just promise me my biggest dream. I shake my head to clear it so I can focus.
“I’m on vacation now, but I should be around to sign the contract tomorrow morning.”
“Great, I’ll keep an eye out for it.” There’s typing in the background, and even though it’s New Year’s Eve, I know Leo takes breaks for nothing. “I think this is going to be a great relationship, Adam. Enjoy your vacation, and we’ll start the new year off with a bang.”
“All right, sounds good. Talk to you later,” I say, then hang up.
Endorphins rush through me as I toss my phone to the bed, and I let out a deep breath, hoping to release them a bit.
When I spot Wren leaning over the vanity in the sweet little silk robe I bought her in one of the gift shops we visited the other day (she told me she couldn’t accept it and had no use for a silk robe, to which I told her it would really be a gift for myself, something I’m realizing was absolutely the truth), I get a better idea and move across the luxury hotel we’re in.
When I make it to where she is, I reach for her, pulling her up and into my arms and giving her a hard, deep kiss.
Her body melts into mine, her hand moving up to cup my chin and moving to her tiptoes to better reach me.
My hand slides down to her ass, and I cup a cheek, squeezing it as I break the kiss.
“What was that for?” she asks with a giggle as I rest my forehead against hers.
“I need you,” I say, pushing her hips into mine so she can feel exactly what I mean by that.
“Adam, we can’t, we don’t have time—” she starts, but I cut her off, bending down to press a kiss to her neck.
“Are you mine?” I ask, low and gruff.
She hesitates, and her breathing hitches, the pulse in her throat speeding up beneath my lips.
“To do with what you please,” she whispers, and I groan into her neck, then put my hands to her waist, lifting her and placing her on the edge of the vanity. Makeup tubes scatter, but they’re the least of my worries.
I press kisses to her lips, chin, and neck as my hands move to her shoulders, sliding the robe off.
It slowly slides down, revealing her full breasts, and her arms shrug out of it completely before she lifts her hands to pull my face down to hers.
The kiss is hot and messy and filled with a need I know only she can ease.
I slide my hands down her sides and realize she’s not wearing a bra, something I take full advantage of when I cup her full breasts, tweaking the nipples between thumb and forefinger.
She arches into my touch, a soft moan falling from her lips.
One hand travels down further, and as I graze over her soft belly and hip, I realize she’s not wearing any undergarments.
I groan when my fingers touch her hot pussy, already wet for me.
She moans as I ghost my fingertips over her clit before going lower.
She leans back a bit, tipping her hips so I can have better access.
I slide a finger into her, and a breathy sound falls from her lips as her pussy tightens around me.
I groan at the feel, then slide out and add another finger, slowly fucking her.
I don’t have time to drag this out, to give her orgasm after orgasm as I enjoy doing, but I always have time to play with this pretty cunt.
“Adam,” she moans. “Please. More.”
“You’ll get what I give you right now,” I say, my gaze shifting from her center to her eyes.
“And right now, I’m giving you two fingers.
” She pouts, and I laugh despite my hard cock.
“I give you everything you want, but we’re on a time limit, Wren.
So I’m taking the lead. But I always make you feel good, don’t I? ”
She licks her lips before nodding.
Then, as if to tell me she trusts me completely and to do whatever I want, she leans back slightly onto her hands and spreads her legs wider before looking down her body at me.
Her lips part, and her breathing becomes heavier as she watches me finger her.
When my fingers pull out, glistening with her wetness, she moans.