14. The Love Of My Life #3
This conversation has taken a turn straight to hell, but my attention turns to Ruby who makes an announcement.
“Ladies and gents, Blake and I are going to take a little breather. But don’t you worry, I’ve got all the tunes lined up for you.
I suggest you go to the bar and get a refill.
After all, I hear Payne is footing the bill for this party, right?
” My clients roar with applause. “That’s what I thought. Drink up, and we’ll be back!”
I watch Ansel stand and slide his phone into his pocket. He never takes his eyes off Ruby as he makes his way around the table and through the crowd. Ruby goes to the bar and leans in to order a drink.
She’s clueless.
My feet move before I know what I’m doing.
Art calls for me. “Where are you going?”
I ignore him and everyone else in my path. The only thing I can focus on is the sinister look in Ansel’s eyes as he moves toward the bar.
I mutter excuse me as I walk past the very people I spent a fortune to suck up to all weekend.
Ansel Reid approaches from the other side of the room and is at least four paces ahead of me.
I hardly know anything, but I know enough that I’m not about to allow anyone to get close to Ruby who she doesn’t want to be around.
Me being the only exception.
She has no clue what’s about to happen. She and the bartender are chatting with one of my clients—a client who has made his fortune with his wife importing flowers and selling them wholesale.
A legitimate business—not the Mafia. At least I don’t think they are, but what the fuck do I know.
But I also didn’t think Reid was either, so who am I to judge where their money really comes from?
Ansel reaches out and grips Ruby by the biceps and yanks her around to face him. Her expression is a mix of agony and shock.
The sight of it makes me want to tear the fucking manor down, throw her over my shoulder, and run away with her.
Ruby’s shocked expression quickly shifts from her arm to Ansel. “You’re hurting me.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I get to her before he has a chance to utter a word. I grip his wrist so tightly, he immediately lets her go. My other hand claims Ruby’s hip, and I turn her to me.
Her eyes widen when she realizes who’s touching her, but she doesn’t stop me or pull away.
Good girl, Red.
Our gazes lock so tight, we might as well be fused for life. I shove Ansel away and dip a hand into her hair. I pull her lips to mine like it’s an everyday occurrence rather than the twelve-year span that’s been my living hell.
Her eyes widen as I take her mouth. My fingers bite into the flesh of her back thanks to the deep dip of her icy blue dress. Her hands are rigid on my pecs, not pushing me away, but not giving in either.
I can’t hold back.
I forget my reality. What she’s running from. The anger, hurt, depression, and every other fucking stage I’ve experienced since she left me. I cup the back of her head and angle her face to mine.
She finally relents.
Her fingers grip the lapels of my sport coat, and she hangs on for the trip down memory lane. Her lips part, and my tongue does exactly what it wants.
Dips inside to taste her.
Fuck.
She’s like fine wine—better with age. Every memory I have with her flashes through my mind like a rapid cartoon.
From the girl with dirty, torn clothes and messy hair, to the beauty she was the night we both lost our virginities to each other.
It wasn’t like those romances where I claimed her like some caveman and made her mine.
With us, it was never like that.
We belonged to each other. I was hers as much as she was mine.
Until we weren’t. One day my life was rich with Ruby, and the next...
Poof.
She was gone. She wasn’t mine, and I wasn’t anyone’s.
But this moment is different.
This is all of me claiming all of her for everyone to see.
So, fuck you, Enzo Caruso, whoever the fuck you are. And Ansel Reid can kiss my rich ass, because I know two things.
One, my personal portfolio is twice his.
And two, he will never—and I mean fucking ever—lay a finger on Ruby Sinclair again.
I’d give every penny to my name to not let this moment end, but reality proves to keep on ruining my life.
I don’t give a shit about the past or the future and kiss her like it’s my last breath on earth.
I wonder if this is how death row inmates feel when tasting their last meal before the dramatic end.
Nothing on earth matters but the woman in my arms. The feel of her body against mine. Her skin beneath my touch. And our tongues tangled as one.
Whoops and cat calls seep into our reunion like a fresh dead skunk on the side of the road.
Ruby feels it too. She goes from an active participant back to tense in my arms. I do the last thing in the world that feels natural and tear my lips from hers, but don’t let her go.
I hold her tight in my arms and don’t let her move an inch as I stare into her blue eyes.
Neither of us have ever been shy of the limelight. We ignore our audience and do our best to catch our breaths.
“What was that?” she asks in a hushed tone for only me to hear.
“Play along. I’ll explain later,” I demand, and nudge the tip of her nose with mine. My arms tense around her. “Kiss me again.”
If eyes could beg for answers, hers would. “You’re crazy.”
“If you’ve ever trusted me in anything, now is the time, Rubes. Fucking kiss me.”
She pulls in a breath and mulls it over. Three beats pass, but she obeys and lifts to her toes.
And once again, my world stops spinning when our lips touch. This kiss lingers, and it’s Ruby who doesn’t want to break our connection.
When she finally does, I pull her to me, bury my nose in her soft hair, and put my lips to her ear. “Do not leave my sight for the rest of the evening. And when you’re done with the show, and I’m done kissing every ass in this room, we’re talking. Do not fucking leave this manor. Got it?”
I pull back far enough to look down at her and wait for an answer. A frown puckers between her brows.
“Answer me,” I whisper.
She exhales, and in true Ruby fashion, she agrees but does it with her own flair. “Fine.”
I nod and feel a smile tug at my lips. I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead before I claim her hand and turn to the lounge.
I raise my voice enough for everyone to hear.
“I want to thank you all for coming this weekend, but more than anything, I want to thank this woman for the private performance.” I pull her to my side and wrap my arm around her so my hand lands on her ass.
“Ruby Sinclair, ladies and gentleman ... the love of my life.”
Ruby gasps.
My smile is wide and satisfied as I turn to the audience. Felicity looks like she’s seen a ghost. I’m pretty sure Devon is muttering a string of Britishisms and every other word is bloody or piss. Art raises his glass to me with a wolfish grin.
And Reid.
Fucking Ansel Reid.
He’s recording the entire show for prosperity ... or to send to the Caruso Mafia.
Either way, this changes everything.
Whether it’s real or fake, Ruby is mine again. And the thought makes me as hard as a rock.