Chapter 41
LOUIS
ONE MONTH LATER
The car hugs the curves of the road as we climb the hills outside the palace grounds. Addison sits beside me, hand out the window, enjoying the fresh ocean air.
“Where are we going?” she asks for the third time. She barely gets her words out without laughing.
This is her version of are we there yet, and I’ve heard it every five minutes on the dot.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
“You keep saying that,” she says.
“Because you keep asking. Patience, babe. It’s a virtue.” I smirk.
She shoots me a look, and I grin as I reach for her hand. The diamond on her finger catches the afternoon light, and I kiss her knuckles as I drive. This is happiness. This is what I’ve always wanted.
We crest a hill, and the lavender fields stretch out below us in rolling waves of purple that seem to go on forever. The scent fills the cab. It’s sweet and calming. Addison makes a sound beside me, and her grip on my hand tightens.
“So”—she licks her lips—“you plan to tell me where we’re going?”
“Hmm.”
I nod forward at the estate that rises at the end of a long drive.
It has honey-colored stone and ivy climbing the eastern wall.
This castle is smaller in scale than the others, but more beautiful in its simplicity.
It has eight bedrooms, a library, a study, and an incredible kitchen that I designed myself.
The gardens lead down to a private lake.
This was built for my great-grandfather as a retreat from court life, and it’s been sitting empty for years. That ends today.
I come to a stop in the circular drive, and I move around to Addison’s side.
She gets out and stares up at it with her mouth slightly parted. “What is this place?”
“Chateau Lavande.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Our home.”
She blinks several times. “Our what?”
“Every royal is given an estate when they get engaged. Somewhere to live before they inherit the throne.” I gesture at the stone wall and the gardens spilling over with late summer blooms. “This is ours.”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “Wait. You’re telling me you inherited a freakin’ castle?”
I burst out laughing. “There’s not a moat or anything, no drawbridge, but yeah.”
She stands there, smiling widely for a long moment, absorbing the house and grounds. Then she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. “I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it, babe.” I take her hand. “Come on. I want to show you inside.”
The front doors are heavy oak and solid under my palm as I push them open. They swing into a foyer with a vaulted ceiling and a staircase that curves up to the second floor. Our footsteps echo on the marble as we walk through the entryway and into the main living area.
Addison stops in the doorway.
The room is large and bright, with French doors that open into the gardens and a fireplace built from local stone. Above the mantel, in the place of honor, hangs our painting—The Treason Portrait. It makes me grin. Our faces stare back at us from the canvas.
“I painted us into existence,” she says.
I can’t explain the soft expression on her face. It’s love, adoration, obsession, want, need. Everything.
“Yes, you fucking did,” I mutter, admiring her brushwork.
She crosses the room, moving closer, and her sandals tap on the hardwood. Addison stops in front of the fireplace.
“I begged the palace for it,” I admit.
“And they gave it to you?”
“It’s here, isn’t it?” I ask.
She chuckles. “That’s not the same as having permission.”
I shrug. “It belongs to us. I know it’s an important piece of art in the royal collection. When we move into the palace, it will come with us.” I move to stand beside her, my shoulder brushing hers. “You should’ve seen their faces when it was revealed.”
“It’s my only regret,” she says.
When she looks at me, I cup her face in my hands and press my mouth to hers.
“The tour continues,” I say when we finally break apart.
“Of course.”
I take her hand, leading her through the house, pointing out rooms as we go.
The library, with its leather chairs and wall of windows overlooking the lake.
The kitchen, recently modernized but still warm with its copper pots and farmhouse sink.
The dining room, where we’ll host our dinner parties and eat the meals I prepare.
The bedrooms upstairs, each one decorated in soft colors that complement the grounds outside.
But the room I really want to show her is at the back of the house, down a hallway lined with windows that allow the natural light inside. I stop in front of a closed door and turn to face her.
“This is for you. It was recently remodeled.”
“Recently?”
“When you painted me in the conservatory, I knew you needed this.”
I push the door open and step aside so she can see.
The studio fills the entire north wing of the house.
Skylights line the ceiling, and give lighting artists dream about.
The floors are worn wood that can handle paint spills and turpentine.
Canvases are stacked against one wall, blank and waiting.
Easels stand ready in the center of the room, along with a drafting table and shelves stocked with brushes, paints, charcoal, pencils, and every other supply she could ever need.
All of it is organized and labeled for her.
On the far wall, windows look out over the grounds, the rows of flowers stretching to the horizon.
Addison walks into the room and bursts into tears.
“Aw, Addy,” I say, moving toward her, smiling. “Don’t cry.”
“You built my dream studio,” she says as I wipe tears away.
“You’re going to be queen someday. But you’ll never stop being an artist. I want you to have the freedom to create.” I kiss away her tears.
“Thank you so much,” she says.
“Check it out, babe.”
I watch her move through the space, touching the brushes, the canvases, the jars of pigment.
“I don’t want you to give up who you are. I fell in love with Addison Cross, and I never want that sassy, artistic, horny woman to disappear.”
She picks up a brush and tests the weight of it in her hand.
“Do you think you’ll ever get tired of me painting you?” she asks.
“Never. I fucking love being your muse.”
She sets the brush down and crosses the room to me. Her arms slide around my waist, and she presses her face to my chest, breathing deep. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Addison.”
She pulls back and gives me a mischievous look. “So, there’s one thing we need to discuss.”
The shift in her tone makes me pause. “Yes?”
“I’d like to stop taking my birth control.”
I blink at her, grinning. “Really?”
“The wedding is planned and will happen in two months. Can’t we start trying early?”
I stare at her and bite the corner of my lip. “Fuck yes.”
I pick her up and carry her over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she asks, laughing.
“We’re starting right now,” I tell her, smacking her ass with my opposite hand as I run up the stairs.
The main suite takes up the entire west side of the second floor. The bed is a massive four-poster in dark wood, piled with white linens and enough pillows to build a fort. Windows line two walls, letting in the afternoon light, and the grounds glow gold in the distance.
I set her down on the bed, and she’s laughing.
“You can’t carry me around like you’re a caveman.”
“Yes, I can,” I say. “I do whatever I want.”
“Shut up.” She sits up on her elbows, pulling me down on the bed with her. “Just us, Louis. Finally.”
I kiss her slowly, savoring the taste of her, the way her body fits against mine.
We have time right now. There aren’t any guards outside the door.
No schedule to keep up with until after the wedding.
No rules about who can be where and when.
Right now, it’s the two of us in our home, and we have the rest of our lives stretched out ahead of us.
Her hands come up to the buttons of my shirt, and she works them open one by one, her fingers brushing my skin with each release.
I shrug it off and let it fall to the floor, then reach for the hem of her dress.
I push it up over her body, and she’s wearing nothing underneath except some white lace that barely qualifies as underwear.
“Fuck, I’m so happy you’re mine.”
“Me too,” she says.
I cup her breasts in my hands. My thumbs brush over her nipples until they harden. She gasps and arches into my touch.
“I would’ve never gotten over you.” She breathes.
We desperately kiss as I pin her beneath me.
She looks up at me with those blue-green eyes, her hair spread across the white pillows.
I kiss my way down her body, pausing in all the places that make her gasp and moan, like the curve of her neck and the hollow of her collarbone.
I move to the soft skin between her breasts, then tug on one nipple.
She gives me a little moan while she tangles her fingers through my hair.
I move lower, kissing across her stomach, her hip bones, the inside of her thighs. Her legs fall open for me, and I settle between them. My breath is hot against her. The lace is soaked through, and I press a kiss to her, tasting her through the fabric.
“Please,” she whimpers.
I pull the lace from her body and slide my tongue against her clit.
She rocks against my mouth, and I grip her hips to hold her still as I work her with my tongue.
The taste of her, mixed with her breathless gasps, makes me feral.
I push two fingers inside her and curl them until her fingers are grasping the comforter.
Her walls clench around me, and her thighs are trembling on either side of my head.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps. “Right there, Louis. Don’t stop.”
Seconds later, she shatters with my name on her lips, her whole body shaking as the orgasm rolls through her. I work her through it, gentling my touch as she comes down, pressing soft kisses to her thighs.
When she finally stops trembling, she pulls me up her body and kisses me hard, tasting herself on my tongue.
“Time to fuck your fiancée,” she says against my mouth.
“My pleasure.” I kick off my pants and settle between her legs.
My cock presses against her warm entrance. She’s slick and ready. When I push inside, we both groan at the sensation.
“Damn,” she breathes. “You always feel so good.”
I start to move, letting her pussy savor every inch. She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me deeper, urging me faster. I lose myself in the rhythm of her body beneath mine.
“Harder,” she demands. “Louis, more.”
I grip her hip with one hand and snap my hips forward, driving into her with everything I have. The headboard slams against the wall, and she cries out, her nails raking down my back hard enough to leave marks.
“Yes. Just like that.”
Her walls start to flutter around me, and I grit my teeth, holding on, waiting for her.
“Together,” I whisper.
She breaks apart beneath me, her body nearly collapsing as she comes for the second time. I follow her with a groan, spilling inside her as pleasure crashes through me.
We’re breathless.
“That was—” she starts.
“Incredible.”
“We should move in immediately,” she says with a laugh. “I want more of that.”
“Agreed.”
After we clean ourselves, she curls against my side, her head on my chest. Her fingers slide up and down my arm. The afternoon light has shifted to evening gold, painting the room in warm tones.
“Wait,” she says, sitting up. Her eyes widen when she finally sees the paintings on the opposite wall. “The subway series. How?”
“I tracked down the buyer and made an offer he couldn’t refuse,” I admit.
“Louis,” she says.
“I had to have them, Addison. Those paintings changed my life.”
“They changed mine too.” She props her chin on my chest and looks at me. She smiles, and it’s the one that promises trouble, the one that dared me to be more than I was. “We won.”
“Yes, we fucking did.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “You taught me that love is worth fighting for.”
“You taught me that love exists.” She kisses me, and it’s full of everything we’ve been through to get here.
When we finally break apart, the room is dim, and the first stars are appearing outside the window. We lie back against the pillows with the fluffy blankets pulled up to our waists.
“I want to paint you like this. Half-naked in bed.” She runs her fingers down my stomach. “For my private collection.”
I pull her closer and capture her lips. The fading sunlight catches the diamond on her finger, casting tiny rainbows across the white sheets.
“What do you think our kids will look like?” she asks.
“Beautiful trouble,” I say. “Like their mother.”
She smiles against my chest. “That’s real rich, coming from you, drama king.”
It makes me laugh. I hold her and watch day fade into night, and for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of what comes next.