Epilogue – Liam
“Come on. You too.”
Helena crooks her finger at me like she’s reeling in a very large, very reluctant fish. Five months pregnant and already weaponizing that curve beneath her dress. She shouldn’t look that lethal carrying my kid, but here we are.
I don’t move.
I’m standing in what used to be my comfort zone—charity gala, polished floors, polite applause—but today it looks like a goddamn gladiator pit.
Firefighters are dropping their pants.
A retired football player is flexing next to a three-legged Labrador.
A banner reads: STRIP FOR STRAYS.
This is not what I pictured.
“Helena,” I say carefully.
“Uh-uh. No backing out. You agreed.”
“Yeah, but you never mentioned the part where everyone is naked.”
“I made a special rule for you,” she says brightly. “You get to keep your briefs. Look at the firefighters.”
I look.
I immediately regret it.
They’re buck naked.
One of them waves.
I do not wave back.
Across the room, Olivia does a heroic job pretending she’s not blushing while helping position a crate of rescued kittens. She’s all professional focus—until one of the firefighters stretches. Then she looks like she’s reconsidering medical school.
Max, the lucky bastard, is fully clothed. Late. “Just here to support,” he claims. He took a bullet for Olivia, so apparently that earns him permanent exemption from public nudity.
Unbelievable.
“Come on,” Helena coaxes. “It’s for a good cause.”
“Maybe not in front of your sister,” I murmur.
She laughs. “Fair point. Though as you can see, she’s very much distracted.” She tips her head toward Olivia, who’s barely keeping her eyes on the animals. “And, her mind’s on that young fella you sent us in that Rolls to JFK. She calls him Mr. Handsome, by the way.”
I raise a brow. “Such a creative nickname.” My Australian friend is known for his charm. Lucky for him, he’s also a decent man, so I won’t have to interfere. “They’re together?”
“Not according to her. But…maybe.” She waves it off. “Anyway, don’t worry about my sister. She’ll see the calendar, eventually.”
“That’s what terrifies me.”
“You won’t even be the most scandalous page.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“You’ll be tasteful,” she promises.
“Helena. The word ‘tasteful’ lost all meaning the moment I saw a firefighter holding a guinea pig.”
She steps closer, lowering her voice. “You look incredible, Liam. Stop pretending you don’t know that.”
I glare at her.
She just beams.
“Are you at least editing the photos?” I ask.
“Nope. What you see is what you get.”
For a second, I consider walking out.
Then I look at the dogs. The cats. A parrot that was abandoned sometime this week. The donation board is already filling up because obviously fabric-deficient men move mountains.
And then I look at Helena.
She holds the new camera—the same model I once put in her hands before she had to let it go. This one she bought herself. All her own money. No financing. No inheritance. No involvement from me. Her company is thriving with five staff now, and contracts are lining up.
Hellion, fully unleashed.
“Fuck it,” I mutter.
I strip down to my boxer briefs.
There’s a round of appreciative applause. I ignore it.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the firefighters mutters. “Is he even real?”
I ignore that too.
Helena growls softly.
“Do not growl at me,” I warn.
She just grins. “Stand there. Turn slightly. Yes. Like that.”
“I feel objectified.”
“You are objectified.”
“For charity.”
“For charity, indeed.” I let it go.
Somewhere off to my left, Max greets someone I recognize immediately. Mara Ireland.
She’s holding a leash, talking animatedly, but Max isn’t watching the dog. His hand settles low at her back—muscle memory that never updated. Her wedding ring catches the light when she gestures.
For God’s sake, Max. What are you doing?
A few minutes later, Mara steps away. Max returns to his chair beside Olivia as if nothing happened, leaning in to say something that makes her laugh.
“All right,” Helena calls toward the cluster of waiting rescues, “someone get this man a dog before he realizes he’s the one being auctioned.”
A volunteer brings over a rescued Shepherd mix and settles him at my side. The dog leans into my leg like he’s been briefed on me. There’ll be time to deal with my brother’s…encounter. Today belongs to Helena.
“Good boy,” I murmur, rubbing along the thick column of the dog’s neck.
Helena’s camera clicks. Her eyes soften, and suddenly this doesn’t feel ridiculous anymore.
“You’re smiling,” she says.
“Don’t get used to it.”
She gives me that look, the one that started all of this. Then she steps closer and tugs the waistband of my briefs a fraction lower.
“Don’t even think about making me hard,” I mutter under my breath.
She smirks. “Oh, we’re thinking full package, are we?”
“Hellion,” I say, lower this time.
“Red Fox,” she mouths back.
“Don’t start.”
She steps away, snapping another shot. The Shepherd suddenly springs up, paws braced against my chest, tail going wild.
Helena laughs. “Perfect.”
And somewhere between the laughter, the chaos, and the very exposed firefighters, I realize something.
This is my life now.
An investor who still prefers being a vet posing in boxer briefs for charity. A man in love with a woman who terrifies and adores me in equal measure.
Worth every fucking second.
Thank you for reading The Velvet Bet. I hope you loved Liam and Helena.