Epilogue
HAZEL
Five years later…
Our daughter draws smiley faces on everything.
Coffee cups, notepads, napkins, the margins of Dominic’s quarterly reports—even the back of Marcus’s hand when she catches him not paying attention.
Bethany is three years old now, and she’s already figured out that a silly smiley face can make anybody’s day better.
Gee, wonder where she learned that…
“Momma, look!” Beth holds up a crayon drawing of what appears to be a big rectangle with two dots and a curved line in it. “It’s Daddy!”
Keeping my smile to myself, I crouch down and examine the masterpiece. “Gorgeous, sweetie. You really captured his essence.”
“Essence? What’s that?”
Unable to contain my smirk now, I ruffle her hair playfully. “It means you drew his grumpy face perfectly.”
Beth’s adorable giggle makes my heart ache—in a good way, of course. She runs off to show Cassi, who is sprawled out across the living room couch with a glass of red wine, looking not much different than she did five years ago. Some people just do not age. It’s obnoxious, but I love her for it.
“Aunt Cassi, look! I drew Daddy’s…essence!”
Cassi takes the drawing and gasps with dramatic wonder. “Oh, you sure did, babe. That’s wonderful. You know, I think you might be a famous artist one day.”
I smile from the kitchen doorway, one hand on the counter and one resting on the swell of my pregnant belly. I’m five months along with baby number two—a boy this time.
Dominic almost cried when we found out. Not quite, but his eyes were watering.
I never thought a man like him could show such softness, but that’s the thing about my husband: The world sees a stone-cold billionaire, a titan in the boardroom and an alpha who intimidates everyone around him.
But I see all that and more.
I see a man who draws smiley faces on my coffee cups still to this day, all because I drew one on his five years ago. I see the man who bounces his daughter in his lap and would do anything to make her happy.
The penthouse has changed a bit. It’s warmer now. Beth’s toys are scattered all over the living room floor, and there are photographs everywhere now. Shots from our wedding, Beth’s birth, and even a candid of Dominic sleeping with her lying on his chest.
There are even fictional books on the shelves now. And throw pillows and blankets on the couch. He complained about those for about a day before he realized how awesome they were.
His mom’s photo is still up there on the top shelf, but it’s not turned away anymore. It faces us, our family portraits, like she’s watching over all of us.
Cassi waits until Beth is busy with her crayons before giving me that look—the one that means she’s about to say something she thinks is hilarious.
“So five years later and you’re still married to the man who trapped you with a sex contract.” She tilts her chin down and takes a sip of her wine. “How’s that going?”
“Cassi…”
“What?” she asks, waving her hands. “It’s a valid question. Most people these days meet on dating apps. You met because a billionaire saw your face and built an illegal contract around it.”
“It wasn’t illegal,” I sigh, searching for the right word. “It was…unconventional.”
“It was crazy,” she laughs. “While simultaneously being the most romantic thing ever. Oh, and have I mentioned I hate you for it?”
I burst out laughing. It’s like warm sunshine in my chest. “Yes, once or twice.”
Cassi was my maid of honor. She gave the toast at the wedding that made the entire staff of Blackwood Capital choke on their champagne. Something about how she always knew I’d end up with a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, but she didn’t know I’d be signing paperwork first.
Marcus walked me down the aisle actually. Mom and Dad were both busy, and he knew I’d need a man to do it. We’ve become quite friendly over the last few years. He’s still COO and still the only person, besides me, who isn’t afraid of Dominic.
Beth calls him Uncle Marcus, and he lets her draw on his hands when she’s feeling creative. I never thought I’d see such kindness from him.
“Do you ever think about it still?” Cassi asks. “The contract?”
I shrug. “Sometimes. We keep it framed in his office.”
“Oh my God. He framed it?”
I nod, smiling. “Yup. Right next to the original smiley-face cup.”
She shakes her head, taking another sip of wine. “It’s disgusting how cute you two are.”
“Hey, you said I was waiting for Brad Pitt to come sweep me off my feet!”
Cassi grins. “And I was right, wasn’t I?”
I look down at my ring—the same one I pulled off my finger and set on his desk the day I discovered the truth, then put right back on.
“He’s better than Brad Pitt.”
Cassie groans dramatically and rolls her eyes, but she can’t suppress the grin. “Disgusting. You two are seriously disgusting.”
Around eight, she helps me put Beth to bed and heads home. I kiss my daughter on the forehead, breathe in her soft little toddler smell, and close the door softly behind me.
The penthouse is quiet as I watch the city lights out the window, standing in the kitchen in one of my husband’s old T-shirts. Yup, it’s the same one I stole five years ago.
That’s when I hear the front door open, followed by his heavy, deliberate footsteps.
“I’m in here,” I call quietly.
He comes through the door and stops, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up to reveal those muscular arms. The look in his eyes always makes me swell. It’s like I could be wearing a paper bag and he’d still cross the room over to me like a man possessed.
“Beth’s sleeping?” he asks, his voice low but strong.
“Yup. Cassi wore her out.”
He crosses the room in three strides. His hands find my hips, and he lifts me up onto the counter like it’s nothing to him. As he steps between my bare thighs, I feel the texture of his suit pants against my skin.
Along with the bulge of his excitement…
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he whispers against my neck, dragging his lips up to the spot beneath my ear that tickles so sweetly. “I couldn’t concentrate on anything.”
“You say that every day,” I scoff.
“And it’s true every day.” He lifts the T-shirt up my thighs, exposing bare skin. His eyes widen for a moment, then narrow as he looks down. “No panties?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Good girl.”
It’s been five years, and those two words still hit me like a bolt of lightning. My back arches, pressing me into him, and my thighs open wider. He groans as he looks down. It’s the same noise he made the first day he peeled off my cotton white panties and stuffed them in his desk drawer.
“You’re already wet, angel.” A single finger traces through me, parting my lips. I inhale deeply as he slips one inside. “Five years and this pussy is still soaked for me the moment I walk through the door.”
“Even before,” I correct him, my hips already bucking back against his finger. “And that’s your fault.”
“You’re goddamn right it is,” he growls, curling his finger in just the right way that sends my head tilting back.
His thumb finds my clit, and he presses down with that precise amount of pressure and perfect stroke that he’s memorized since the very first time.
“Tell me, angel, who does this belong to?”
A moan drips from my lips as I grip the counter’s edge. “You know who.”
He slides his finger out of me, and I whimper at the loss.
“Then say it.” His voice drops an octave, causing my bones to tingle and my body to open for him. I’m desperate. “Whose is it?”
“Yours,” I reply firmly. “Sir.”
He kisses me hard and deep, his tongue claiming mine. I swallow his groan as his hands unbuckle his belt. One quick jerk from his hand, and he’s there, pressing against my entrance, the thick tip of his manhood so swollen and smooth.
Even after hundreds of times of him being inside me, the anticipation still gets my heart going. His size still shocks me. I don’t know why. I should be used to it by now.
Maybe it’s because he still stretches me. Still makes me feel like I’m molding to his fit every time he takes me.
“Careful,” I tease, rubbing my belly. “Your son is in there.”
Something flares in his eyes. His hunger transforms into something even more primal—a possessiveness that goes straight into me. He slides one hand under my belly, cradling it with his palm, and pushes inside me with his cock, slow and deep, stealing my breath away.
“Oh, I know.” He nods. “I put him there.”
My walls clench around him so tightly he growls and grabs a handful of my hair. I can’t help but feel proud. It’s been five years, and I can still make this man’s knees buckle.
He grips my hips hard and starts to pound me. Long, deliberate strokes, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in with a force that shakes the plates in the cabinet above.
My legs lock instinctively around his waist. My fingers rake through his hair, which is now threaded with silver spots around the temples, somehow making him look even more dangerous.
“Harder,” I urge him. “You know I can take it.”
“Oh, I know you can, angel.” His rhythm picks up—faster and rougher. The counter creaks beneath me with every thrust. “You’ve been able to take all of me. Ever since the first time.”
He’s right. So right.
Ever since the first time I put my hand on his sex in his office, since the first time I knelt down for him, I’ve taken everything. And all I want is more.
“Come for me, angel,” he commands, his thumb circling my clit as he drives into me. The two sensations at once are almost an overload. I’m right there already. “Let me hear it.”
Beth’s asleep. Her bedroom is down the hall, and I closed the door behind me.
I go off, and I’m not quiet about it.
My orgasm tears through me with such force that all my muscles go tense and my back arches off the cabinets. I cry out my husband’s name, and he catches it with his mouth, covering my lips with his through every spasm while my folds contract around him over and over again.
He follows with me a few seconds later, burying himself deep inside as he goes off. I feel the hot, sticky, wonderful spray of his release as it spreads inside me.
The familiar pulse of his cock deep inside as he kisses my neck simply heightens what I’m already feeling. I inhale deeply, feeling the pride that comes from knowing that I’m the one responsible for this. That I made him go off like that.
His hips jerk once more, driving deep inside, and then he goes still. His chest rises and falls as he takes deep breaths, and his heart pounds against mine.
We lie there a long time, connected, breathing as one.
“I love you so much,” he murmurs. I couldn’t count how many times he’s told me that, but they’ve never sounded routine. He means it each and every single time, and I know that.
“And I love you,” I reply, stroking the back of his neck. “Even though you trapped me with an illegal contract.”
He bursts out laughing, a deep, hearty laugh that shakes his chest and makes his eyes nearly close. It’s right up there with my favorite sounds in the world. And knowing I’m one of maybe three people who have ever heard it only makes it that much more special.
Finally, he slides out and gently lifts me off the counter. I hang off his arms as he carries me through the penthouse and into our bedroom. He sets me down, pulls the sheets over both of us, and wraps himself around me, one hand on my belly, his lips in my hair.
“Dominic?”
“Yes, angel?”
“When I applied for that job, I thought no one would ever notice me.” I casually trace the veins on his biceps, following them like my own personal map. “I thought I’d go my whole life being overlooked. Invisible.”
His arm tightens around me. I feel his love. His protection.
“I noticed you, angel.” His voice is low and sure. “And I’ll never look away.”
I close my eyes, press back against the strong warmth of his chest, and feel our son shift beneath his father’s palm.
Five years ago, I was a broke girl who was three months behind on her rent. Then I signed a contract I didn’t read, drew a smiley face on a cup, and walked into a trap that ended up being the best event of my entire life.
He saw me. And he showed me that even though I didn’t know it, I’d been waiting this whole time for him.
THE END