Paige
twenty-four
Returning to Savannah a little over a week after I fled my parents’ marriage arrangement, as the newly minted wife of another man, no less, manages to still feel terrifying. Mama really is going to kill me, or I’ll finally give her that heart attack she’s been threatening for years on my account.
We take the Maybach back to The Abyss, and I feel like the wife of Batman in the sleek car as it turns heads through downtown Savannah.
I’m glad the windows are tinted dark so nosy neighbors and Mama’s acquaintances can’t glimpse us as the occupants of the extravagant car.
I’m sure she would be blowing up my phone faster than the ride through town after the rumor mill alerted her to the return of her prodigal daughter.
I’m not quite ready to face her with my news, and her eagle eyes would spot the delicate rings on my left hand immediately.
I look down and admire the rings we picked out together.
His yellow gold band matches the setting on my ring, a beautiful oval diamond flanked by two round diamonds, and a third trillion cut diamond flowing out on either side.
The diamond wedding band nestles up to the engagement ring and gives some weight to the rings on my finger.
He offered me my pick of the entire jewelry store we visited in Atlanta before flying to Vegas, showing me huge emerald-cut stones and blinged-out settings, but my traditional heart went with this one.
“You like your rings?”
“Very much. They’re perfect.”
“Just like you.”
I give him an appreciative smile as he pulls into the garage at The Abyss.
“Is it weird having an apartment at a nightclub?
“It’s actually quite convenient. I own the building and the club only needs the first two floors. The third with that huge rooftop was just right for a place for me to stay when I’m in town for business.”
He parks the Maybach and I see my pretty AC Cobra still parked and undisturbed a few spots away.
It reminds me of the many Saturdays I spent helping Daddy restore his prized classic cars and the feeling of elation I had when he gave me my own for my birthday.
It feels like a year ago that I fled Sunday dinner and found myself running away with Hayes, despite it only being eight days that have passed.
He opens my door and helps me out of the car, our bags already in his hand.
“What made you decide to put in the greenhouse? Elysium is incredible, but it’s not exactly run of the mill for a nightclub.”
“Exactly. Having the garden made this place more exclusive and far more special than any other nightclub in Georgia.”
“But why did you pick Savannah? This club seems more fit for the Atlanta crowd than a touristy, slower-paced small city.”
I hit the button for the elevator for him since his hands are full.
I have to fish out the special keycard to get rooftop access from Hayes’s pants pocket.
I’m tempted to keep my hand in there and fish for something else, but my lady bits are a little sore, so I shouldn’t start something that’ll lead to more sex.
“My brothers and I have smaller corporations under the Olympus International umbrella that lean toward our interests. I like good alcohol, a decadent nightclub people are vying to get into, and expensive cars. Savannah had the history and architecture I wanted for a project like this, and it’s become somewhat of an attraction in its own right.
Besides, it’s nice to take a short flight and get the hell away from my brothers and the stifling scrutiny of Atlanta. ”
“The Atlanta Haute List sure seems to like you.” I smirk and exit the elevator ahead of Hayes.
“That fucking gossip site is the bane of my existence. They seem to have a special fixation on my family and are always looking for dirt on us. Usually, Zander is the subject of their interest, but you and I have made their radar and are at the top of their current list, unfortunately.”
I unlock the door to his flat and hold it open so he can put the bags down inside.
“Have they written more about us?” My heart races thinking of the things Mama has probably read about us.
He stops me from entering the flat by circling my waist with his arms and hauls me back against his chest before I can step inside.
“Don’t you dare walk through that door. I’m carrying my bride inside.”
I pop my hand on my hip and laugh at his insistence.
“You already did that when we got back to Atlanta.”
“Every threshold to a home I will share with you requires my due diligence to ensure a happy marriage. Don’t question my Southern breeding and the traditions I cherry-pick as my own, dear wife.”
He lifts an eyebrow at me and barely contains the smile that wants to burst forth.
I laugh and hold my arms out for him.
“As long as you admit that you pick and choose what traditions you follow, I’m fine with it.”
He scoops me up and carries me inside, kicking the door closed behind us, and walking across the flat to set me down on the bed, crawling up beside me.
“There’s something about you that makes me feel a little more traditional. I’ve never cared much for the way things were done, always looking for the way that worked in my favor instead. You make me want to be so much better than that.”
“You’re far more romantic than you give yourself credit for, you know that?”
“Absolutely not. All lies,” he jokes, his face screwed up in a comically bad pout.
“One, you’ve gone out of your way to accommodate me when you didn’t have to, including housing, feeding, clothing, cuddling, and bedding me.”
I wiggle my eyebrows at him and he cracks a smile.
“Two, you wrote the most beautiful marriage proposal poem any Southern belle has ever received.”
I flutter my eyelashes and sigh, getting a chuckle this time.
“Three, you insist on following traditions to ensure a happy marriage.” I tick off each point on my fingers as he grudgingly nods his agreement.
“You, my love, are a bona fide, heart on your sleeve, lover of grand gestures, sappy, romantic.”
“Your love, huh?”
“Of course you fixate on that.” I laugh and push my hand into his unyielding chest.
“Yeah, I do. You’re mine, you know.”
He grasps my hand and holds it against his body.
“Your what?”
“You know I’m desperately in love with you, right?”
“It’s like pizza,” I say, and he gives me a confused look. “You would have told me because I’m not a mind reader.”
His look of understanding precedes his noise of approval.
“Well, because neither of us is a mind reader, I want to make it known to you and this empty apartment that I am desperately in love with my wife and will kiss the ground she walks on from now until eternity because she is the very model of grace and perfection.”
I smile widely, but my hands are sweaty and there’s something so foreign about proclaiming this to one another for the very first time. I fall back on humor, like he has, to ease some of the nerves. “I guess you wiggled your way into my little old heart, too.”
I place my hand on his face and dip my head to rest against his as I find a way to strip myself even more bare than I’ve been with him before. It’a about time he knew exactly how I feel. We are married after all.
“I love you, Hayes, and I look forward to watching this fresh new love grow into a wrinkled, lived-in, and weathered love that is talked about for ages to come.”
The nerves that twist my stomach into knots from admitting my feelings are more excited to admit this than terrified of what it means. Mostly.
He rolls on top of me and kisses me far gentler than I expect, lazily exploring my mouth and trailing sweet kisses down my neck until I’m moaning. I’m rethinking my no sex because I’m sore stance when his phone rings and disrupts the moment.
“Fuck,” he grunts, rolling to his side and pulling out his phone. “It’s work. I’m so sorry, angel. I have to take this.”
“Don’t apologize. It is Monday and a workday, after all. Go get your work done.”
“How are you so understanding?” He kisses me again and leaves the apartment for his office next door as he answers the call.
This is exactly what I expected life to be like with Hayes. He is a consummate workaholic, and I watched Daddy leave family dinners and downtime for work emergencies far too many times while growing up to not be understanding of my own husband doing it now.
“So this is the life of a billionaire businessman’s wife,” I say to the empty room.
I miss Cerberus, my demon spawn shadow who would have listened to me bemoan my new reality of Hayes being dedicated to his work first and foremost and me having nothing to do.
The big dog stays in Atlanta with a trainer when Hayes goes out of town and can’t take him.
The rooftop flat is a bit small for a one-hundred-pound canine, so I can understand Hayes’s reticence to bring him with us, but it doesn’t stop me from missing the dog anyway.
My thoughts drift to a solution to this problem, and I start daydreaming about finding a home here in town with a nice big backyard for him to enjoy so he can come with us.
That would be so wonderful and would give me a permanent place in my hometown to enjoy.
So what will I do with myself now, and how will I manage The Mansion when it looks like we may be spending a significant portion of our time in Atlanta?
The general manager of a hotel is not exactly a position that lends itself to a remote work environment.
I’ll have to figure that out before the new year when I’m set to take on my new position.
That is, if my parents don’t completely revoke my trust, disinherit me, and pretend I don’t exist when they find out what I’ve done.
That would solve the problem of splitting my time in two cities, not that I like the prospect one bit.
But…I would still have the work with Underworld Spirits that Hayes has promised me to look forward to.
It’s a good backup plan for me should the worst-case scenario play out.
The feeling of floating on clouds with Hayes deflates as I think of my parents and their inevitable response to my hasty marriage and my end to their plans.
They won’t be happy, especially Mama. I’ve made a habit of making her incredibly displeased recently, which is a first. I guess it took her crossing that final line to set me on a new path that deviated from the good, obedient daughter role I had played for so long.
Will I be able to keep this up once faced with her wrath?
I sure hope so, or I’ll be in for a world of hurt and disappointment.