Epilogue
Sweet fuck, Remy loved his job.
Fairford Manor’s first annual Platinum Guest Appreciation Weekend was well underway, and he couldn’t be happier with how everything was going so far.
Twenty-three frequent repeat guests RSVP’d, and every single one had arrived that afternoon, excitement sparkling in their eyes for the coming events. Remy planned so many delightful activities for the next two days, ranging from advanced Shibari demonstrations to a formal, nine-course dinner. Tomorrow morning, he would judge contests to see who could accept the most strokes from a crop, belt, paddle, or cane before tapping out, complete with cash prizes.
There was even a kinky scavenger hunt the entire Manor staff helped him plan, which would send submissives scurrying all over the house and grounds. The winning team would not only need to locate various bondage and spanking implements, but also perform a myriad of sexual acts, sometimes individually, others as a group. Camden, the resident fuckboy Dom, was particularly excited about that game.
And of course, each submissive would have ample private time with the Dom or Doms who hosted her on past visits.
For now, everyone gathered on the patio for the welcome reception, the submissives breaking off into small groups to gossip about the schedule Zach handed out at check-in or mingle with the Doms. Waiters in tailcoats wandered through the garden with silver trays, handing out hors d’oeuvres and sparkling glasses of champagne.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Soon, each guest would be shown to her “room” for the weekend. Since the Manor only had five guest suites, little private grottos dotted the gardens and grounds—white silk tents draped in countless flowers and greenery, vines trailing over the open doorways to the ground. Plush divans and luxurious cushions filled each grotto, battery-powered candles in Moroccan lanterns casting a rainbow of light upon the silk walls.
He’d heard more than one excited voice describe them as magical in the last hour. He only hoped the magic lasted through the weekend. Even when they had to go inside to use the bathroom.
From his spot in one corner, Remy let his gaze scan across the party, looking for potential problems. Though he was sure there would be plenty of fires to put out before the festivities drew to a close, everything so far had gone off flawlessly.
Jonathan, Mason, and Aiden stood in the center of the patio with the largest group of guests. The women chattered and fawned and used seductive looks like currency—which they honestly were in this place.
Camden reclined in a chair off to one side, long legs spread wide and a smug, fuckboy grin on his face. Half a dozen women surrounded him, laughing uproariously at everything he said.
Then there was Rafe, close to the trees with a small, more intense-looking group of subs. In what Remy was starting to learn was Rafe’s usual stoic fashion, he only gave the occasional gruff reply. He and Nell had moved to Burlington for her to attend grad school a couple weeks ago, but they assured him they wouldn’t miss this for the world. Despite their promises, Remy still breathed a sigh of relief when they showed up. Rafe’s new, longer beard was a surprise, though the guests certainly didn’t seem to mind.
With nothing in sight to worry him, Remy let his attention travel over to where Zach, Nell, and Olivia stood. The trio chatted and laughed animatedly as they sipped champagne and popped delectables like bacon-wrapped scallops and tiny brie and fig puff pastries into their mouths.
He let his gaze linger on Zach’s sea glass green eyes, alight with his usual mischief. The ever-present smirk he never got tired of looking at. The navy slacks and vest that showed off his trim figure to perfection. How he longed to remove every stitch of that man’s clothing, starting with the blue and silver pinstriped bow tie.
Before his imagination managed to get him into too much trouble, Jonathan stepped away from his group and sauntered over. Remy did his level best to not look like he’d just been fucking his boyfriend with his eyes.
“What do you think?” Remy asked, throwing on his very best smile.
In answer, Jonathan shook his hand, his grip firm and sure. “Well done.” The warmth of his new boss’s approval washed over him. “This is even better than I imagined when you pitched the idea to me. I think this is exactly what the Manor was missing.”
Remy tried not to grin like an idiot, but it didn’t go particularly well. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking a chance on me.”
“If I’m being honest, I wasn’t sold on needing an event planner until today. I had ulterior motives for saying yes.” Jonathan’s gaze shifted over to where Zach stood, and one corner of his mouth quirked up the tiniest bit. “Don’t ever tell anyone I said this. I’ll deny it until the day I die. But I fucking love a big romantic gesture. The idea of Zach getting his movie-perfect ending was too good to pass up.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” He couldn’t keep a grin off his face, though.
“Good man. Now go over the plan for tonight one more time for me. I want to make sure I don’t fuck up that part of my speech.”
By the time Jonathan walked over to another little cluster of guests, Remy practically glowed with pride. His new boss clearly couldn’t be more pleased with his work—a true relief, since a huge part of Remy constantly questioned whether he was doing enough. After so many years in continuous crisis mode, perhaps that shouldn’t have come as a shock.
At his last job, the work was endless. They sometimes had a conference all week, then three or even four weddings on a single weekend. The hotel’s policy was if it was even remotely possible to pull it off, book the event and worry about the details later.
Luckily for the hotel’s higher-ups, they had Debbie and Remy to make each and every one of those events a resounding success. He had a feeling their policy might be changing for a while, at least until they filled the now gaping holes in their staff.
But here at the Manor...planning a small event every month or two was a whole different ballgame. He hadn’t gone into that calm-before-the-storm, adrenaline-singing-in-his-veins crisis mode since moving to Vermont. Not even once.
That in and of itself sent him into a different kind of panic in the first few weeks. Had he made a mistake? Not about Zach. He grew more secure in that part of the decision every single day. But as those initial days ticked by so very slowly, he found himself wondering the same thing again and again.
Would he spend the next however many years of his life bored out of his mind?
His gaze again scanned the crowd milling around the patio, and he smiled. The people who worked here, Zach’s second little family, had been nothing but kind and patient with Remy while he got used to the new normal. A healthy normal. When his brain craved insane deadlines and chaos, one of the men or women here helped ease him back down.
Or, in Nell’s case, to lead him through guided meditation, and sometimes send him articles or videos with tips for lowering his cortisol levels and retraining his brain. All of which made a hell of a lot more sense once he learned she was pursuing a master’s degree in counseling.
When it became abundantly clear that no one expected him to work after hours—that, in fact, everyone wanted him to go home with Zach every night—the guilt slowly but surely began ebbing away. He still fell into old habits now and again, unable to help himself. But Zach was there to help him every single time.
Usually with the kind of distraction he was powerless against. The sexy little imp.
The crystalline ring of a knife tapping against a champagne flute drifted over the crowd. Conversations dwindled into whispers, then ended altogether as all eyes turned toward Jonathan.
“Welcome,” he said, smiling broadly as he swept his gaze across the crowd, “to Fairford Manor’s inaugural Platinum Guest Appreciation Weekend. Each of you was handpicked from among the guests who have stayed at the Manor since we opened our doors over seven years ago. You have been our greatest and most enthusiastic supporters. With you, we have shared the best weeks the Manor has ever seen. And it is our very great pleasure to celebrate you and all you have helped us accomplish here.”
Remy mouthed the final lines along with Jonathan, excitement making his blood pump harder in his veins. They’d spent hours together poring over the wording, needing it to be exactly right. They wanted these women to feel special. Like they’d been bestowed with a great honor.
The kind of honor they’d feel compelled to brag about online, in the local clubs, and to any kinky person who would listen.
If Remy was right, this weekend would pay for itself a hundredfold once word got out what would happen if you earned yourself the title of Platinum Guest.
As Jonathan launched into the next part of his speech, going over the plans for the weekend, Remy slipped around the edge of the patio. “Come with me,” he whispered in Zach’s ear, tugging him down one of the garden paths.
Once they were out of earshot, Zach threw a worried look over his shoulder. “Won’t they need us?”
“Not for a little bit,” Remy promised. “I want to show you something.” He led the way through the winding paths, skirting around several grottos until they reached a white silk tent in the back corner of the garden, nestled beneath an enormous maple tree.
“You know,” Zach said, trailing his fingers through the green and purple leaves of the vines over the entrance. “I thought I counted one too many tents. I assumed maybe you wanted an extra just in case.”
Smiling, Remy swept an arm out toward the tent. “Take a look inside.”
Eyes sparkling with intrigue, Zach parted the vines and stepped inside. He didn’t make it more than a single step before he froze in place, a tiny gasp tumbling from his lips.
“I did this one a little differently,” Remy said, moving up behind him. He put his hands on Zach’s shoulders, letting his fingertips graze over his collarbones. “Do you like it?”
Zach tried to speak, but no sound came out. He whirled around instead, wrapping his arms around Remy’s waist, holding him tight.
“I love you, my sweet imp,” Remy murmured against his hair, enveloping him in his arms. “And I’m so sorry about Martinique. I hoped we could have a do-over.”
Unlike the other grottos, Remy had purchased and arranged everything in this tent himself. The divan had been specially upholstered in a deep purple velvet. The enormous matching cushions strewn across the floor were custom-made. Instead of the multicolored Moroccan lights, white ceramic lanterns dotted the room, similar in style to the carvings on the walls in the room with the purple sofa.
And as a final touch, tropical flowers filled the corners and hung from the ceiling—the brightest reds, pinks, oranges, yellows, and purples imaginable. Their sweet scent filled the air, making this little grotto feel like a tiny piece of Martinique.
When at last Zach pulled out of their embrace, tears glistened in his eyes. “It’s so beautiful.” His smile turned a little wobbly. “I love you.”
Cupping Zach’s face, Remy brushed the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “I love you too,” he whispered, kissing his lips, breathing in the scent of him. “Marry me?”
The shock on Zach’s face would have been comical if Remy’s heart wasn’t trying to beat its way out of his chest. “Oh my God.” His breath came very hard and fast, and new tears sparkled in his eyes. “Do you mean it?”
Producing a small, black velvet box from an inside jacket pocket, Remy pried open the lid and held it out. A single square cut diamond, flush with the smooth surface of the wide platinum band, sparkled in the candlelight. “I realize I’m twelve years older than you, and we might be at slightly different stages in our lives,” Remy said, watching Zach’s eyes as he stared longingly at the ring. “So I’m willing to wait as long as you need. Whether it’s a long engagement or even waiting to get engaged until you feel ready. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re the one for me. I had to make sure you knew that. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never forget it.”
The moment he stopped speaking, Zach grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him down into a bruising kiss. Ring box trapped between their bodies, Zach held onto him like he was a lifeline in an endless sea, fingers digging into his cheeks and neck.
When at last Zach ended the frantic, devouring kiss, he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. His lips brushed against Remy’s as he whispered, “Of course I’ll marry you. Easiest question I’ve ever answered in my life.”
Remy’s breath hitched when he tried to speak. Words failing him completely, all he managed was to slide the ring onto Zach’s finger.
“It’s so beautiful.” Zach tilted his hand from side to side so the diamond caught the light.
“As soon as I saw it, I thought of you,” Remy said, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “It reminded me of where everything started.”
Zach beamed up at him. “Le Diamont. It’s perfect.”
“What do you think about getting married on the island?” Remy brushed his thumb over the platinum band on Zach’s finger, needing to prove to himself it was truly there. “Then we can have the vacation we should’ve had the first time.”
“God, I love you.” Zach pulled him down again, this time into a slow, beautiful kiss. Remy didn’t think he could ever get sick of kisses like these—kisses that made him feel like they had all the time in the world to explore each other.
Because that’s exactly what Remy wanted.
All the time the world had to offer, with Zach forever at his side.
The End