Chapter 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

SILAS

I opened the door to the penthouse and stepped inside. Cool air-conditioning slid across my skin, leaving prickles in its wake. I'd gotten used to the open windows and fresh air on the ranch. The warm days and cool nights. Way's truck windows down and the green scent of recently harvested hay wafting in with the deep blue, never-ending sky visible through the windshield.

My apartment was dark, with only the light of a small lamp in the entry hall glowing a paltry welcome. City lights from the wall of windows in the living room beckoned me toward the view that had sold me on this place several years ago.

I chucked my wallet and dead phone on the entry table before following the lure of the city view into the living room and tossing the bag from the bodega onto the coffee table. Before I reached the windows, I caught a glimpse of a man's silhouette and stopped short.

"Way?" I breathed, half wondering if I was imagining him there.

He moved toward me quickly and threw himself against me with a tight hug. "How is she? I got here as fast as I could."

"You… came?" I stood frozen in shock. " Today ?"

"Of course I came." His hands roamed up and down my back, like he wanted to soothe me and assure himself I was whole all at the same time. "Is Camille okay? I tried to call, but you didn't answer."

I inhaled the travel scent of him. Faded sweat, stale airplane air, and the barest hint of my shave gel left over from early this morning. It seemed like days ago that he'd stood next to me with only a towel around his waist, teasing me for singing show tunes in the shower.

I cleared the emotion from my throat. "She's okay. Asleep. They kicked me out."

"Thank fuck." He pulled back and cupped my face in his hands. His eyes were filled with affectionate concern. "How are you ? You okay?"

Emotion threatened to overwhelm me, and I wondered what he'd do if I started sobbing right there and then.

"Sure."

He tilted his head and furrowed his brows for a beat before understanding softened his expression. "Right. Well, I'm not okay. I'm exhausted from worrying. And I'm hungry. Starving, really. You have any food in this place?"

I pointed to the bag on the coffee table. "Snack stuff. We could order something?"

He let out a laugh. "Silas, it's after midnight. Surely no place is open this late."

I blinked at him before a laugh bubbled up. As soon as it let loose, several more came after it, one after the other after the other, until I was laughing so hard tears were leaking out of my eyes. "It's New York, Waylon. They don't roll up the carpets at sundown here."

The edge of his lips quirked up. "That doesn't sound right."

There was enough light from the lamp in the entryway to remind me just how blue his eyes were.

"I love you, too," I blurted. And for some reason, the admission fucking broke me.

The breath disappeared from my lungs, leaving me heaving for oxygen. Tears multiplied and began streaming down my face.

"Baby?" Way said, moving me bodily to the sofa and shoving me down onto it. "Breathe. In and out. Steady. In through your nose… out through your mouth."

I shook my head in an effort to tell him I was fine. This was just… no big deal. I would be okay any minute now.

Way pulled me into his arms and began rubbing his large hand up and down my back while cupping the side of my face with his other one. I tucked my face into the front of his neck and tried to catch the scent of home on his skin.

He murmured calming reassurance against my hair. "Shh. She's okay. She's going to be okay. From what I've heard, Camille's tough as nails, just like you." He pressed a kiss to my head. "You must have been so scared. It's okay to be scared. You're allowed to be upset. The world won't end, Silas."

I let the tears come. They brought so much junk with them my brain felt flooded. Images of my parents' disinterest and criticism, their demand to control my money, my sister's dogged determination to help others, my disillusionment with Justin Hardy, and the assumption that all men would betray me. The unbelievable good fortune of choosing the right barstool at just the right time on the exact right night to meet this beautiful, adventurous, dedicated, loving man.

"I love you," I said again. The words came out in an embarrassing croak.

He tilted my face so he could meet my eyes. "Well, I sure hope so since you married me. That's usually how those things work, you know." Way's thumbs swiped the wetness from my cheeks as he continued teasing me. "Although it would have been nice to hear the words several hours ago when I stood there in front of your friends making an ass out of myself with a one-sided declaration."

I let out a wet laugh. "They already knew."

Way's eyes held the kind of love I'd never received before. I was stunned by the depth of emotion in his expression. "And now they know just how much I love you, too. I told them to handle everything for me and then fucked off to the Big Apple on a private jet like I was some kind of fancy pants without a care in the world."

I leaned in and kissed him. It was desperate and possessive, frantic and raw. I needed to know I had him for real this time. I needed to know it was no longer temporary.

"Be mine," I begged in a jagged whisper against his lips. "Stay married to me. For real this time."

"It's been real for me for a long time, Silas," he admitted. "I was too scared to tell you."

We kissed over and over, until I forgot where I ended and he began. I was too bone-tired to want more than this, but I was too scared to let him go.

When Way's stomach growled, I finally pulled away. "I said I'd feed you, didn't I?"

"I assumed you meant your tongue."

"Thank you for coming," I said, meeting his eye so he would see how much it had meant to me.

"You're my husband. Where else would I be?"

I reached for the food and pulled out several items. A sports drink, a bottle of water, chips, peanut butter cups, a protein bar, and two bananas sat in a motley collection on the coffee table. I leaned over to turn on a nearby lamp. "Help yourself."

He stared at the meagre selection. "The man has a penthouse and access to a private jet, and this is the meal he serves me?"

"Oh. Right. About that." Heat rushed to my face. "I'm, ah… rich. Richer than your average corporate strategist."

Way barked out a laugh. "You don't say."

"I wanted to tell you. It wasn't because I didn't trust you." I felt a pinch of guilt. "Okay, maybe I didn't trust you at first."

His eyebrows shot up. "The legal agreement."

I nodded. "But I found out a couple of weeks ago that it's non-binding. Kenji pointed out I gave the attorneys the wrong wording. I asked for a statement of intent, and it should have been a contract. Kenji tried to warn me, but I didn't listen."

Way's lips quirked into a teasing smile. "So why didn't you get me to sign a contract at that point?"

I rolled my eyes. "Because I realized it didn't matter. First of all, you aren't the type of guy to use me like that. Secondly, if you needed money…"

"You'd give it to me," he said softly, his smile still taunting me.

I leaned forward to taste his lips. "I'd give it to you," I murmured. "Anything."

We spent several more long minutes kissing, reconnecting—or maybe connecting on a whole new level, with no lies or pretenses between us any longer—before Way's stomach grumbled again. After that, I force-fed him snacks before leading him to my bedroom.

On the way down the hall, we passed a framed photo of me with my friends celebrating at a bar the night we'd sold ETC.

"You going to tell me about the money?" he asked. "I get the feeling it has something to do with why you're so close to these guys."

"What makes you say that?"

"Let's see…" He began ticking things off on his fingers. "They all seemed very comfortable with private plane travel. None of them mentioned work conflicts while taking an indefinite amount of time off to help the exhibition. Dev didn't seem to spare a thought in hiring someone to trailer his horse and personal vehicle across the country. And you live in a massive luxury penthouse across from Central Park."

"You're right." I pulled him over to the foot of my bed and nudged him to sit down before I knelt to remove his shoes. "We invented a software program back in college. At first, it was for a class project, but then we saw the potential and continued perfecting it until it became a really big deal. It's called ETC. Remember the emergency traffic control program?—"

"The really expensive one you got installed in Majestic after finding us a ‘grant'? Yeah, I remember. You created that?" His voice was high with disbelief.

I nodded. "We founded a company called Sterling Chase to facilitate the sale of the software in an effort to hide the true ownership." I set his shoes aside and reached to peel off his socks. Way's fingers made their way into my hair until I felt the familiar light scratch of his fingernails on my scalp. "When our families found out we were selling a software program, they all started clamoring for financial support. It became… a problem. A big problem, actually."

"Shit. I can imagine. My father would have had a long list of expectations if that had happened to me."

I nodded and moved closer to him, nudging his knees apart so I could reach the hem of his shirt. The idea of getting Waylon Fletcher into my very own bed was intoxicating and distracting, but I wanted to tell him this story first. "It gets worse. Dev's brother begged him for a sports car. A really fucking expensive Bugatti Veyron. Dev didn't want to do it, said he had a bad feeling about it since his brother was young and irresponsible. But the kid swore he wouldn't drive it too fast and he'd treat it like gold."

I took a breath. "He and a buddy had been out drinking and got stupid. They took the car for a drive. Spun off the road and into a tree. Both of them died instantly. Dev's parents blamed him. Hell, Dev blames himself even now. Even though it happened several years ago, he's never been able to kick the grief and guilt. That's why I was so relieved he agreed to come to the ranch. He's happiest when he can be around horses and away from the traffic of the city."

Way's hand moved from my hair to the side of my face. His thumb brushed across my cheek. "I can't imagine his pain. But obviously, it wasn't his fault. He could have been just as stupid in an old Ford truck."

"I agree. But after that, we made a pact to keep our wealth a secret. Thankfully, we'd never told our families just how much money we'd gotten in the deal, and then after Dev's brother died, we told everyone we'd given most of it to endow a charity in his name. In truth, we did give quite a bit to endow the charity, but we were still left with an obscene amount of money."

"Define obscene."

The number always made my stomach lurch. "A billion dollars."

"Fuck," Way breathed.

"Each," I added.

His eyes widened comically. " Silas ."

"I know. It's terrifying."

His hands moved back to my face and held me until I met his eyes. "I understand why you needed to keep it a secret." His voice was soft and kind. "I promise I won't tell anyone. But you didn't need to tell me."

"I did. I do." I smiled at him. "You see, the deal was… we agreed not to tell anyone other than our life partners."

Way's blue eyes lit with understanding. "Your husband."

"My husband." The word was precious, a treasure on my tongue. "My beloved husband."

I lifted his shirt off and leaned forward to press a kiss to the center of his chest. His skin was warm and familiar. His strong hands moved to my shoulders and down my back. He murmured words of love as I moved to kiss as much of him as I could reach.

"Want you as close as possible," he said as I pulled open his pants and stroked his cock through the cotton of his boxer briefs. "Want you inside me."

I stood up and pulled him up with me so I could finish removing our clothes. And then I spent the next several hours giving my husband the wedding night he deserved.