Epilogue

Chapter 9

Brock

Waking up without Felicia in the bed was jarring, to say the least.

And then when I didn't find her in the house, it went from jarring to terrifying.

It wasn't until I heard a tinny but familiar sound of my daughter floating on the air that I realized Felicia was standing outside, talking on the phone. My world tilts on its access as I hear Felicia trying to assure my daughter that she's okay and safe.

I don't expect her to jump like she does when I put a hand on her shoulder. I only meant to let her know I was behind her. It backfires so badly she drops her phone with a squeak.

I school my features as she looks at me, even though my heart is racing just as much as hers must be.

It's now or never.

I need to talk to my daughter about what I feel for her best friend.

"Olivia, sweetheart, we need to talk."

"Dad? What the fuck? What are you— Why are you—"

I watch as her expression changes between shock, confusion, and fury.

Finally, she says, "I've been texting you for days. I've been worried about Felicia. She's been with you this whole time?" Her voice is almost terrifyingly calm, but the anger is evident on her face, even over the video call. Over the top of the phone, I see Felicia shift her weight guiltily from one foot to the other.

"It's been a hectic few days," I say, sticking as close to the truth as I can without giving too much away too soon.

"That's not a good enough excuse," Olivia snaps. "Why didn't you tell me you were with her?"

I take a deep breath. "Because we haven't figured out how to tell you what's happened."

"Tell me what? What could possibly have happened that's so important you had to ignore me??"

I reach for Felicia, enveloping her small hand in mine, before pulling her into the video call's frame with me. I look at down at her—her eyes are glassy, her hair still unkempt with sleep—then look back to the image of my daughter on the phone screen.

"Felicia and I are together right now because we are together romantically," I say simply.

Olivia's mouth falls open in shock. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's a long story," Felicia explains. Her voice is steady, but I can tell she's nervous because of. "But fate just kind of … pushed us together."

The background of Olivia's side of the call swivels as she suddenly falls back onto a couch I recognize as mine. At least she's still in the penthouse. Being somewhere familiar might make this easier for her to stomach.

"You're together. Romantically."

"Yes," I confirm.

"Like hell you are. Is this some kind of a joke?" she says weakly, her eyes vacant as she tries to process the revelation.

"No," I assure her. "We didn't mean for this to happen. But it happened. I'm in love with Felicia. Have been for a few months. She means the world to me."

It's not easy to convince her that there's nothing strange or untoward between me and Felicia. As much as it hurts, she's concerned that I coerced her friend. I can tell it dismays Felicia to be asked if she seduced me. Olivia is thorough as she grills us, and by the time she's done, hours have passed. The sun is already peaking over the tops of the mountains, and I can hear Felicia's stomach rumbling weakly by the end.

But, by the end, my stubborn, beautiful daughter proves to be just as loyal as I thought she'd be. She tells us that it'll take a bit for her to truly warm up to the fact that her best friend and her father are together.

"Tech tycoons have dated further from their age," she quips at one point, using her sardonic sense of humor to cope. It's a big adjustment for everyone, I'll admit. But I'm so fucking proud of her for being open to this new relationship of mine.

After we end the video call, Felicia and I head back inside, and I start to make us breakfast. The power came back overnight, so I'm able to plug in the coffee maker and get it started brewing as I wait for the skillet to heat.

When I glance at Felicia, she's frowning at her phone.

"Olivia is resilient," I say. "I trust her when she says she'll work on warming up to us."

"Yeah," she says, clearly distracted.

I raise an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

She purses her lips before putting her phone down and crossing her arms. "I'm fine. Just … trying to decide if I should talk to my dad about us is all."

"Do you not want to tell him about us?"

"It's not that," she suddenly rushes out. "I'm not ashamed of you."

"Good. I'm not ashamed of us either."

However, when she finally tells me about the situation as we eat, I feel shame regardless. How did I go so long without realizing how bad her home life was? Is ?? Her father had them so far into debt that she had to resort to the auction. All this time, I knew there was something up, but I never knew what. Now that I know, I wonder if I'm really the man for her. How could I care so much about her and miss something like this?

It's no wonder she deferred her scholarship. It's no wonder she's worked so much for someone her age. And the scholarship to the private school … Everything.

Finally, I tell her, "You don't have to call your father if you don't want to. We've already told Olivia. We can be done for the day."

She sighs and nods at me, unshed tears clinging to her lashes as I pull her into my arms.

"I need you to know, however, that I do want to talk to him at some point."

Felicia pulls her head back, looking at me with wide eyes. "Why?"

"Come with me," I say, leading her to back through the house to the bedroom.

I sit her on the bed and go to the dresser, rummaging in the top drawer until I finally find the little velvet box. I hold it in my hands carefully as I kneel in front of her. When she sees it, the unshed tears start to trickly down her cheeks.

I don't let myself waver. I need to do this. I need to show her I'm serious about us, that I want to prove that I'm worthy of her, even when I've failed her.

I want to make sure she'll never want for anything again.

"Brock, what are you—"

"Felicia," I say softly. "My mother died shortly after I got divorced. She told me that if I was patient, I'd find love again, and she gave me her engagement ring, telling me to give it to the love of my life when I met her."

She chokes back a sob as I open the box to reveal a ring, elegant in its simplicity, with nothing but a white gold band and a flawless diamond.

"I didn't think I'd ever get to say that she was right," I continue. "I love you. I don't want to ever be parted from you. I want to call your father and tell him that he doesn't get to treat you that way, because you belong to me. You don't exist to make sure he has a roof over his head."

I take the ring from the box and slip it onto her finger as she sniffs, her bottom lip quivering with emotion.

"Felicia, will you marry me?"

She bursts forward, throwing herself into my arms. Her lips meet mine as she knocks me back onto the soft carpet. Her kiss is heated and fervent, and it takes my breath away as she pulls at my shirt to hold me as close to her as she can.

"Yes," she pants. "I'll marry you. Of course I'll marry you."

I smile against her lips. "Really getting my money's worth out of that successful bidding. I love you."

The knowing smile she gives me as she kisses me again makes everything we've gone through to get to this point worth it.

"I love you, too."

Felicia

Ten years later …

As I end the call with my best friend, finalizing the details of the baby shower we're having next weekend, I marvel once again at what my life has become.

Not only is Olivia my best friend, she's also my stepdaughter. While I've never thought of her that way, she insists on teasing me about it every once in a while. I smirk to myself about the joke she made over the phone as I head toward her old bedroom, where my children—her half-sisters, technically—now share the space.

Six-year-old Clara is messing around with the makeup kit Olivia gave her for her last birthday, and her eyeshadow technique is surprisingly good. She's definitely got the flare, but only because Liv showed her how to do it. She may be a lawyer "doing that Elle Woods thing" now, but she never lost her passion for makeup artistry.

Across the room, eight-year-old Chantal has her nose buried in a book, only looking up after I say her name twice.

"Are we going to the library?" she asks eagerly, noticing I'm wearing my usual Sunday work costume.

When I tell my daughters yes, they both dance around excitedly, scrambling to find their shoes and book bags. I can't help but smile, pleased they love coming to work with me.

Right after our honeymoon ten years ago, Brock drove me to the admissions department of the college I'd deferred a scholarship from. He explained to me that he wanted me to still have the chance to pursue my dreams, even if I was married to him. I didn't have to work, he said, but he also mentioned that I didn't seem like the kind of woman who just wanted to be arm candy for her rich husband.

He was right. With his encouragement and support, I completed my undergraduate degree in literature, and then received funds from the college to get a master's degree in library science. Even though I was pregnant at certain points in time, I managed to graduate with honors.

I couldn't have done it without Brock's support, or Olivia's help. Because of them, I now work at the public library, specializing in children's literature. And I love every second of it.

Over the years, I've really grown the department. I've turned the children's wing into a wonderland for kids of all ages. It's got books for every child's interests, and I've made sure to design nooks for the adults who bring them here to sit in as they watch their kids develop a love for reading.

Some days can be hard, but Sundays are far and away my favorite. It's the day I dress up in a costume to match a storybook and read it to the children who come and sit in the reading circle I set up. With my girls in tow, I make my way to the library, excited for what the day has in store.

Without Brock's love and support, I wouldn't be doing this every week. He's truly shown me what it's like to show up for one's children, especially because that's something I never had growing up.

Ever since the fateful night of the auction, my father has been fighting tooth and nail to make up for his mistakes. After Brock and I told him we were getting married, it took him some time to warm up to the idea. It took even longer for Brock to warm up to him right back.

Now, he attends meetings for his alcoholism and gambling addictions. He knows recovery is a long road that has its ups and downs, but he's fighting for himself. He also volunteers at community centers, helping men who've gotten involved in the wrong crowds get out of them.

I never thought I'd say it, but I'm proud of him and the work he's doing for both himself and others. While it's a shame it took me selling off my virginity at an auction to pay off his debt to get him to see that his hard living wasn't sustainable, I'm glad that he finally saw it.

Not to mention that it's worth maintaining a relationship with him just to see his eyes light up when he sees his granddaughters. I can see he wants to stay on the straight and narrow for them. He's working hard to keep my trust, along with Brock's respect. And he's doing so well at it.

I take my daughters' hands as we walk up the steps to the library. The girls are soon running ahead of me up to the main doors, greeting the person at the information desk politely as they wait for me to catch up. I sigh deeply as I finally crest the stairs. You'd think I'd be used to getting a little out of breath because of pregnancy after two kids, but alas, every pregnancy is both different and the same. This specific baby loves to tire me out, and I'm sure they'll do the same once they're born.

One of the regulars compliments my witch costume as I walk to the reading circle and sit down in the rocking chair at the front of it. After a few minutes and a lot of excited squeals, I get started on reading the book I've picked out for the day—a cute story about a little witch and the adventure she goes on with her cat.

By the end, the kids, mine included, are all getting antsy, but they all clap enthusiastically and ask for another story almost immediately.

"You'll have to come next week for the next story," I smile at them.

As soon as I dismiss the children, I look up to see that my husband, Brock, is standing at the back of the reading circle, looking decadent in his well-tailored suit. He's got that sly, playful look I know so well and love so much.

"Yes, sir?" I smirk, standing carefully. "Can I help you?"

His lips curl in a mischievous grin and he slips a hand around my waist and pulls me in for a kiss. Without a word, he pulls me toward the hallway my office is down and closes the door behind him before adjusting the shades to block the view from my window out to the hallway.

I raise an eyebrow at him as he approaches.

"My assistant's watching the girls, don't worry," he assures me.

"Oh?" I say to him, running a hand up the front of his suit to adjust his tie. "Are you paying her overtime to work on a Sunday?" I pull gently on his tie, making him step between my legs as I sit on my desk.

"Triple time, actually," he says, pulling me close as he meets my lips with his own.

He yanks me close, our bodies colliding deliciously. I gasp, never getting tired of the hard feel of him against me. He has strands of silver at his temples now, plus a few more crinkles around his eyes, but to me, he's never looked better.

I sigh and pretend to push at his chest. "Paying your assistant to babysit while you romance me in my own office?"

I try not to giggle as he grips me tighter, his cock pulsing against my dress's skirt. Ever since I donned the first costume to make the weeks of a few kids feel a little more special, he's gotten more and more wild at the sight of me in the different outfits and gowns. I know for a fact that he particularly loves this witch costume because of the striped thigh-high stockings I wear with it, complete with a little garter to hold them up and everything.

In fact, he's already reaching down, gathering my long skirt in his hands and pulling it up to reveal the stockings.

I wriggle in his arms, my fingers tightening their grip on his suit as my panties dampen with his touches.

"You did the same when you asked Liv to babysit a few Saturdays ago so you could interrupt my meeting with the London office," he tells me, his grin making his eyes glint mischievously. "I'm just paying back the favor Mrs. Harlow. Take you right here on your desk." He draws my hand down to his bulge. "Show you what it's like to get fucked when you're trying to work."

I finally break down into giggles, in spite of how hot this all is. The laugh turns into a gasp when he gets his fingers between my legs and plunges them inside me. He pushes deeper with a groan, already eager to move past the foreplay.

"Still as tight and wet as the first time I made you mine," he says, leaning down to kiss me.

I melt against him, my hips moving as he slides his fingers in and out of my body. His erection strains against his suit pants, desperate for relief. I drag him toward me until I can feel the outline of his hardness at my center.

Never once breaking his searing kiss, he reaches behind me to sweep on top of my desk aside. He gently lays me out on the cleared surface, throwing my skirt up and dropping between my legs to nuzzle me through my panties.

"You're dripping wet for me, baby," he says. "Admit it, you love this."

"Of course I love it," I say, gasping as he shoves my panties aside and swipes his tongue across my swollen clit. I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream. I swear, pregnancy makes me more sensitive, but I'll never complain about it. I can only hope the soothing chamber music we keep piped into the main library covers the sounds that Brock keeps dragging out of me.

"Holy fuck," he breathes. "You look so good like this. Spread out for me, swollen with my child. I'll never get enough of you."

The first orgasm wracks through me, making me grab at his hair. He keeps going, driving me over the edge until I clamp my legs around his head and have to bite down on my costume's sleeve to help me hold in the moans.

Even as I'm still pulsing, Brock stands and hurries to get his pants down far enough for his cock to spring free. Pulling my hips forward so that my ass is at the very edge of my desk, he wraps my legs around his waist and plunges deep inside me without any warning.

With gasping groans, he pumps hard and fast until he comes, growling against my throat and collapsing against my chest, taking care to keep his weight off my belly.

"I love fucking you at work," he sighs, kissing the side of my neck.

"Don't get too used to it," I warn. "We have to keep it special, you know?"

He chuckles, his breath tickling my ear. "Of course," he says. "Plus we have to make sure we keep the costumes in good condition."

After a few minutes of catching our breath after our fast and furious romp, Brock straightens up and pulls my skirts back down over my stockinged legs. He helps me sit up and strokes his finger down my jaw.

"I love you so much."

If he didn't tell me that every day I might worry about his serious tone, but I feel exactly the same way. What we have is special. It feels infinite in a way I will never be able to describe.

I wrap my arms around his neck, happy and grateful that even after ten years we still want each other as much as when we first got together. I know he was worried that I'd feel like he was keeping me from being young and wild and free. I worried that he'd grow tired of me since he was so much more mature and sophisticated.

But we've only grown closer over time, finding new interests to share while raising our wonderful daughters. And now we have a third one on the way.

More importantly, he's going to be a grandfather. He doesn't know it yet, but Liv's pregnant. She told me on the phone earlier. Even though I'm only twenty-nine, I'm ready to rock being a step-grandma.

Neither of us can wait for that adventure to begin.

"So, no buyer's remorse?" I tease as I straighten his tie for real this time.

"Best money I ever spent," he tells me, making sure we both look presentable before he takes my hand and leads me to the door. "Now let's go get our girls and head home for dinner, shall we?"

I nod, ready to return home and cuddle up on the couch with him and the girls for a relaxing evening. Sunday afternoons are slow, so I'm sure I can leave early without causing any problems for the other library staff members. "What's the special occasion?"

He kisses me and smiles. "Every damn day with you is a special occasion, baby."

~The End