26. Laurene
CHAPTER 26
Laurene
“Where are you?” I almost hung up on Gigi, but she’d caught me in a good mood—though that was fading fast.
“Serena said no already.”
The car smoothly drove past the typical weekend shopping crowd; couples ambled along, their shopping bags swaying rhythmically.
“For good reason.”
There was a sharp “Damn!” in the background, followed by the unmistakable clatter of dice hitting a table. Gigi’s laugh was so loud on the phone, I had to pull it away from my ear.
I juggled my shopping bag, feeling the silky, lacy stuff inside. Reese’s place was perfect for him, but it didn’t exactly scream home. Not yet. Not without a few touches of mine. I smirked to myself, imagining his reaction when he saw what I’d picked out. He would be up all night drilling shelves and hanging paintings.
Except—lately, he hadn’t been himself.
This past week, he’d been different—more withdrawn. Quiet. Checking his phone with a frown, then putting it down like it burned. Waking up before me, staring out the window with his jaw tight. And when he thought I wasn’t looking, rubbing his temples like he was trying to keep something at bay .
I hadn’t pressed him. Maybe I should have. It was the blackmailer. Things had been quiet lately, but the danger was still there.
I didn’t know much, but I did know Reese.
“Come on, you can do this.” Gigi’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. The sound of a loud crash in the background made me wince.
“Where are you really ?” I asked again, my patience wearing thin.
“The studio.”
“Studio? You can’t sing or make a beat.”
My driver slowed as we passed élan Maison, the high-end home boutique I’d been meaning to stop by. Their window display showcased impossibly soft throws and crystal vases. I made a mental note to swing by later. But I couldn’t shake the thought that whatever was going on, Reese was keeping me out of it.
And that scared me more than I cared to admit.
“Damn, you can’t encourage me? What if I’m the new hottest female rapper?”
“You think Slick Rick’s raps are too complicated. How the hell are you going to write a bar?”
“First of all, Laurene, you real loud for somebody that don’t have a song out about them.”
“I don’t even wanna know what poor internet rapper you conned into making a song about you.” I smirked.
“Second, I got star potential, okay? I’m immortalized. Don’t be mad because I’m out here chasing my dreams while you’re out buying bougie-ass throw pillows for your man’s crusty-ass bachelor pad.”
“The dream of this week.” I rolled my eyes. “But the answer is still no. Last time I watched Walter for you, I ended up in a ditch with a knot on my head and your little demon dog ruining my five-hundred-dollar skirt. Walter’s gotta spend time with Auntie Serena or Uncle Erik. ”
“Now you know damn well Walter’s been banned from Erik’s house ever since he peed on his Star Wars figurine collection. I’m still paying Erik back for that.”
I let out a sigh, staring at the boutiques blurring past the car window. “It’s your dog, Gigi. Take him with you.”
“Walter don’t like loud music. It stresses him out,” she said matter-of-factly.
I looked out the window and frowned. The gallery came into view, its black-and-gold sign shimmering.
“Why are we headed to the gallery?” I asked, leaning forward to address my driver.
“You have a reservation here, ma’am.”
What? “The gallery is closed.” Like anybody else, I did not want to be at work on my off day.
The driver didn’t respond, but Gigi kept chatting on. That’s when I noticed the red carpet unfurling from the front steps. Candlelit lanterns lined the path, their soft glow flickering in the early evening light.
“Uh, Laurene? You still there?” Gigi asked, but my focus was on what was in front of me. A faint strain of music floated on the air, growing louder as we pulled up. It wasn’t until I saw the violinist standing on the stairs that my heart skipped.
“Is this for real?” I whispered to no one in particular.
“Absolutely, Mrs. Ashbourne,” my driver said smoothly as he stepped out and opened my door.
“Laurene?” Gigi’s voice carried on, but I barely heard her.
“No,” I murmured, and hung up the phone as I stepped onto the red carpet. My eyes scanned the flickering candlelight reflecting on scattered rose petals leading up the plush, deep red carpet, and then the heavy oak gallery doors creaked open.
Reese stood there, framed by the warm light spilling out behind him. His expression was unreadable, but the flicker of a smile danced on his lips.
“Reese? What is this?” I stepped out of the car, and Reese began to walk down the steps .
“Just a little surprise.”
“Surprise?”
He stopped just inches away. His eyes dipped briefly to the shopping bags tucked in the car.
“We didn’t have a first date when you got back,” he said, his voice soft, intimate. His gaze lifted back to mine, heat simmering beneath it. “I figured it was time to make up for that.”
“This isn’t a first-date vibe, Reese,” I said, gesturing toward the red carpet, the candles, the violinist playing something achingly beautiful in the background.
He took another step closer, pulling me into him, his breath warm and slightly minty against my cheek.
“You’re right,” he murmured. “It’s not. First dates are innocent.” His voice dipped, rougher now. “And there’s nothing innocent about what I have planned.”
Taking my hand, he led me up the steps, and I could do nothing but be in awe. Did Arthur know? I hadn’t seen anybody setting anything up.
Inside, the red carpet led straight into the big hall. Soft amber light filled the breathtaking space. Our main hall had been turned into an exhibition for me .
I felt a surge of recognition. Pieces from artists I adored flashed before my eyes.
“What did you do ?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
His lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. “You’ve spent so much time curating beauty for everyone else. This is something curated just for you.”
I saw Giotto’s Lamentation .
“That piece should be in Italy.”
Reese shrugged. “I had them send it over for the night.”
We walked, my eyes glancing over more of the pieces. I saw The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli, and I shook my head. “That should be in Detroit, and that?— ”
I let go of Reese’s hand, rushing over to look closely at William Blake’s Newton.
“London.”
I slowly turned, examining the pieces in the room. Paris. Amsterdam. Oslo. Minneapolis. Boston. Madrid. Every piece from every museum I’d wanted to visit was here. He’d brought all my favorite pieces from around the world and given me my own private gallery.
“How did you manage this?” I asked, voice trembling. “Some of these pieces are impossible to loan!”
“Impossible’s never stopped me. Not when it comes to you,” he said simply. “I wanted you to smile. To know there’s not a corner of this world I wouldn’t reach into for you.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Every piece,” he said, his gaze never leaving mine. “All you.”
I blinked, letting his words sink in.
“I thought it was time to show you what I see.” His voice was low, reverent.
Reese’s hand found mine, and he led me farther down the corridor. Finally, we reached another entryway, and I froze as my gaze lifted to the sign above:
Laurene.
Reese tugged me along, and I covered my mouth with my hand as I blinked, taking it in. It was all photos of me .
I gasped when I saw the first picture—a closeup of me, with sunlight filtering through the leaves. Recognition bloomed in my chest. It was the week after we first started seeing each other six years ago. Reese took me on my very first hike.
I hated it; I fell in a creek. Reese laughed, then took the photo.
Another photo of me, in my art studio, paintbrush in hand, after sneaking him onto the property. Reese would sometimes just sit and watch me work for hours, and we’ll be together in silence. I’d loved those moments.
The photos continued .
One of me dancing at a gala. A candid shot of me sitting on the edge of a bathtub in his old apartment, wrapped in a towel, staring off into the distance. Another from a secret trip we took to LA. In front of the Hollywood sign.
“Reese,” I sighed, and looked at him as I pouted at the photo.
Me in his bed, on our wedding night.
The softness of the early morning light wrapped around me like a blanket, and I was curled up, my face peaceful, my eyes half-closed, the sheets surrounding me.
“This way,” he said.
He led me into another alcove, and in the center of the room, a table for two was elegantly set up, with delicate white roses scattered across the floor.
He turned to me, and he had a boyish, nervous look that made me giggle.
“This is real, Laurene. Not for them—for me. I want you. All of you. I want us. ”
My breath hitched, his words sinking deep. “Reese…”
“I love you.” Steady. Raw. Certain. “I didn’t marry you because of them. I married you because I couldn’t not marry you. Because even after everything, you’ve always been my person. Losing you”—his breath wavered, but not his conviction—“ was hell. I didn’t know how to breathe without you.”
His fingers curled around mine, desperate, reverent. “I loved you when we built that community center. I loved you when you were with Tobias. I loved you when you were with my brother. Hell, I probably loved you before I even knew what love was— I loved you . When you were just the King girl I wasn’t supposed to want.”
I didn’t wipe away the tear that fell from my eye.
He exhaled shakily. “But I did. I always did.”
Reese’s words shattered something in me. Broke me wide open.
“I know you fulfilled your deal with your mother. I know you probably hate every second of this arrangement. And if you want a gallery of your own one day, I’ll make it happen. If you want to work here, we’ll make that happen too. You can have it all. All I need is you in my life. I need to know you love me too. ”
“Reese—”
“No, let me finish,” he said, his grip on my hands firm but tender. “You don’t have to choose between me and your gallery, Laurene. If you want it, it’s yours. But if you walk away from all of it, I’ll still be here, waiting. I love you more than any of this bullshit. ”
I wanted this. God, I wanted this.
My breath hitched, my body betraying me, wanting to believe him, to let those words settle deep. But something about the way he was saying it— the way he was looking at me —kept my heart caught in my throat.
It wasn’t just love in his eyes. It was something heavier. Darker.
Like he was bracing for impact.
“Reese…” I murmured, tilting my head, searching his face. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to soften a blow I don’t see coming?”
His fingers twitched against mine. Just a flicker of movement, barely perceptible, but enough.
“Laurene.” He lifted a hand, brushing his thumb across my jaw, and for a moment, I thought he would say it—whatever it was, whatever was hiding beneath the surface of this moment.
But then, just as quickly, he shut it down. His expression smoothed over, the way it always did when he didn’t want me to see too much.
“I just want you to know you have options,” he said, voice quieter now. “That you’re not stuck.”
I couldn’t stop the tears welling in my eyes, and I shook my head. “No. You don’t get to put this all on me like I’m the only one making choices here.”
He looked at me, startled.
“I want my gallery,” I admitted. “I want the inheritance. I won’t lie about that. But I don’t want any of it more than I want you.”
I grabbed his collar, like I could keep him from slipping away. “You, Reese. It’s always been you. Paris was hell without you. I could have had the world, and it wouldn’t have mattered because you weren’t in it. I was never perfect Laurene in your eyes, or what people in this town viewed me as—and thank God for that. With you, I can breathe. You have always seen me.”
My voice shook, but I didn’t. “You’re the dream I was too scared to voice. Now I’m not afraid. I don’t care about the strings, the expectations, any of it. This is what I choose. You are who I choose.”
His hands slid around my waist, pulling me closer, his forehead pressing against mine as he exhaled a shaky breath. “Laurene, I?—”
I silenced him with a kiss, pouring everything I couldn’t put into words into that moment. His hands tightened on me, and when we finally pulled apart, his lips curved into a smile that sent my heart racing.
“You’re stuck with me now,” I said breathlessly.
“Good,” he replied, his grin widening. “Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go anyway.”
His hands started to roam down my body and under my skirt. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles along my thigh, his smirk pure sin. I pulled away from the kiss, looking around us.
“Reese, we’re in public,” I hissed, heat rushing to my cheeks.
“We’re alone in here.”
I shook my head as he pressed kisses to my neck, and I was losing my grip on why this was a bad idea. “This is my workplace.”
Suddenly, he stood, reaching over for me, and I instinctively clutched his shoulders as he swept the dishes off the table.
“Reese!”
“I need you. ”
I ran my hands firmly up his sides, feeling the heat radiating from him, my heart racing in response.
“Forget everything else,” he murmured, stepping closer, the space between us collapsing. “Just be here with me.”
“But what if?—”
Reese didn’t answer. Instead, his kisses trailed from my lips to my neck, his tongue teasing as he left unapologetic marks along my skin. My fingers gripped his shoulders, desperate for balance as his hands slid to my hips, pulling me closer.
“Fuck, baby.” Reese’s breath hitched and his fingers came up, brushing against my sensitive nipples, and I couldn’t help but whimper his name. “Let me show you how much I appreciate this amazing dinner.”
Reese dropped to his knees before me without hesitation, his gaze burning with intensity. His hands moved to my skirt, and in one swift motion, he tossed it over his shoulder.
His lips curled into a playful pout before he kissed me through the fabric of my panties, the soft pressure sending a shiver down my spine.
“I want to taste you so badly,” he murmured, his voice low and full of longing.
“R-Reese…” I exhaled, a tingle spreading in my stomach, both nervous and eager.
Reese locked eyes with me the whole time, not even blinking as he used his teeth to slide off my panties. I bit my lip as Reese’s tongue slid over my soaked folds, and I held on to the edge of the table tightly.
“Damn, you taste so sweet.” Kissing his teeth, he grunted. “My dreams don’t compare to this.”
The second I felt Reese’s tongue against my entrance, my thighs trembled, weak with anticipation. He moved slowly at first, as if savoring every moment, his movements deliberate. He found the exact rhythm that drove me crazy, and my hands curled through his thick hair.
“Pull. Harder. ”
I gathered a good enough handful and pulled harder and harder until he moaned. I felt his grin twisting against his lips before he started to slurp harder.
“S-spank it, Reese.”
I felt him freeze for a moment, a shift in his tension as his breath hitched. Then a deep groan rumbled from his chest, the sound thick with desire. Then he spanked my pussy.
“Yes!” I exploded, and I could hear Reese’s clothes falling to the floor before I felt him shift my body, placing my leg over his shoulder.
“Pretty body all just for me,” he murmured. “Tell me you want me.”
My eyes focused on him. “I want all of you, Reese.”
I moaned, feeling his tip pressing inside me and the stretch of him. My walls gripped and enveloped his length, and I gasped as he stroked into me slowly. I reached up, trying to hold on, as my body jolted against the table.
Each thrust had me weak. Stupid .
“Y-yes, please. Right there, right there.” I probably sounded pathetic, but I couldn’t care less. My face scrunched up, twisting in blissful pleasure as he plunged into me at full force.
He was so deep, and I felt stretched, worn thin, dizzy.
Reese leaned down, grabbing my chin, pressing a wet kiss to my mouth. My thighs were shaking, vision spotty, sparks of white-hot electricity going all the way from my hazy brain. I shattered as he gave one harsh thrust.
“Reese!”
I felt him spilling inside me. We held each other, breathless, both trying to regain our bearings. His heartbeat thundered in my ear as I let my fingers trace the lines of his back, feeling more protected and loved than I ever had before.