Cole’s Epilogue
Cole
The next several months pass in the blink of an eye.
First, my mother comes to visit, and I take her and Sage out to dinner. At The Invitation, of course. My hotel does have the finest restaurants in the city.
The three of us enjoy the view of Vegas from a spot on the top-floor restaurant, overlooking the city.
“Can’t beat the view, can you?” I ask my two favorite women.
My mother lifts her glass of wine, takes a sip, and casts her gaze to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Then she grins, catching Sage’s eye. “I don’t know. I heard the view from The Extravagant is just a little bit better.”
Sage smiles. “It is, and our spa is incredible. Why don’t you let me treat you to a spa day, and I can take you shopping after too?”
“I’d love that,” my mother says, then winks at me. “She’s a keeper.”
“I know. I absolutely know.”
A few weeks later, Stone’s concert kicks off, and Sage invites me to opening night. “You’re truly embracing this whole ‘being public’ thing, aren’t you?” I say when I pick her up.
She wiggles a brow. “Or maybe I simply want all the photos everyone will snap of you partaking in my hotel’s terrific entertainment. ‘Experience Vegas’ and all.”
I squeeze her ass, yank her close, and thread my fingers through her hair. I tug on those strands. “That’ll earn you a night on your hands and knees.”
“Good. That’s what I want.”
As we head through her hotel to the concert, I whisper all my dirty plans in her ear. By the time the show begins, she’s buzzing on the prospect of the kind of sex, the kind of intimacy I plan to deliver.
The music seems to turn her on even more as the charismatic rocker makes his way through an epic repertoire of songs of love, songs of sex, and songs of heartache.
As he sings, I stand behind her, my chest to her back, my arm wrapped around her waist, then going lower, and lower still.
My fingers tease at the hem of her skirt, playing with the soft flesh of her thighs.
Making her hotter.
Making her want me.
When the show ends, she’s ready to pounce, but business is business, and she needs to pay tribute to her star. We visit Stone backstage in his dressing room.
“You were amazing. I am in love with every single song,” she says.
He flashes her a huge grin. “Can I play all my shows here forever then?”
She narrows her eyes. “Don’t taunt me with something like that. I would sign you up for the rest of your life.”
“I’d do it. I love it here. But mostly I’m just glad you liked it,” he says, then Sage introduces me to the Grammy-winning musician.
“Great songs. Terrific show,” I say after we shake hands. “I have to say my favorite tune is Bedroom Eyes .”
Stone’s gaze swings to the big man in the corner of the dressing room. “Isn’t that your favorite number too, J?”
“Yes. It’s the most-played song on my playlist,” the guy says, thoroughly deadpan.
Stone returns his focus to Sage. “He’s fucking with me, Sage. Don’t you think?”
My woman bobs a shoulder, gives a who knows shrug, then leans in close to Stone. “You should find out.”
He drops his voice. “Maybe I will.”
“Go for it,” she says, then waves goodbye, spinning on her heel.
Before we leave, she swivels back, calls to the Thor-look-alike. “Hey Jackson?”
The bodyguard lifts his chin. “Yes?”
She points to the musician. “Look out for this guy.”
Jackson’s lips twitch like he’s hiding a grin. Or failing to. “I will.”
When we walk away, Sage whispers in my ear, “I think they have a thing for each other.”
I take one last look at them. Energy crackles between them, a sizzling kind of chemistry. “I’d have to say you’re right. And it sounds like you were trying to do your part to push them closer together.”
“I think they want to be closer together.”
When we go back to her suite, all thoughts of others tumble out of my head as I put my woman on her hands and knees.
Exactly where she likes to be.
Among so many other places, so many other positions, so many other nights.
A few months later, The Exquisite Show opens, and Sage joins me, along with Eliza and Xavier. I insist on meeting Sage in front of my hotel, as photographers snap photos of The Extravagant’s owner joining The Invitation’s owner for the much-anticipated opening night.
Sage is resplendent in a black dress that clings to her gorgeous figure.
Her hair falls soft and lush down her shoulders.
I bring her close and plant a possessive kiss on her lips, then I reach for her hand, taking it in mine, and we walk through my hotel together, with her friend and the new starting quarterback for Wilder’s team by Eliza’s side.
Sage is next to me during the show, and once the performance ends, we both stand and shout, “Bravo!”
It feels good to have her with me.
It feels right.
It feels like all my wanting, all my ambitions, and all my need to prove myself have led me here—to her.
To all this love and trust with her.
A year after I met her at a masquerade, I take her someplace else.
Someplace off the beaten path. Away from the Strip. Far from photographers and the public. There are no slot machines, no card tables, no thousands upon thousands of dollars changing hands here in the park near the home where she grew up.
There is only the green bench where her parents used to read to her and where she read to them.
We sit on a Sunday morning with our paperbacks of Edith Wharton.
We read. For a bit.
When she seems particularly engrossed, I seize my chance.
I’m not nervous. I’m only hopeful as I move off the bench, drop down to one knee, and take her hand in mine.
The book falls from her hands, landing on the ground with a thud.
She blinks, eyes widening. “Cole . . .”
I clasp her hands in mine. “A year ago, I told you I want everything you could give to me. And I’ve loved every moment with you.
Every night, every morning, every show, every challenge, every competition, every dinner, every room-service breakfast, every time.
I love when you win business from me and when I win business from you.
And most of all, I love you, no matter what games we play.
” I reach into my pocket, drawing a deep, fortifying breath.
“And I want you to be mine always. Will you do me the great honor of being my wife?”
Her answer is immediate and beautiful. It’s the only thing I want to hear. “Yes. I would love to be your wife.”
My heart glows as I remove a stunning diamond from a velvet box. It’s several carats, set in platinum, and it’s everything a woman like her deserves.
She holds out her hand. Her fingers tremble. Tears slip down her cheeks.
“Read the inscription, sweetheart.”
Her lips quiver as she lifts the diamond and studies the words in script etched inside the band. “ Brilliant for brilliant ,” she whispers.
“That’s who you are. My brilliant love. And soon, my brilliant wife,” I say as I slide it onto her finger.
She pulls me to her, and I kiss her on the park bench far away from the noise and the lights and the money of the city.
Here, just with her, I have everything I could ever want.
THE END