17. Roland

Iwas blown away at how quickly we managed to pull it all together. The fundraiser was officially a huge success. There was a giant banner along the back wall that said: SAVE THE SCARLET HOTEL, and at this rate, I thought we might actually do exactly that.

With the help of the advertising company, Meyer Marketing, who had donated their services, we were able to spread the word across the city in mere days. The main ballroom was packed with people, all wearing their finest gowns and tuxedos, as if this were the event of the season. And it very well might've been, considering the A-listers who had shown up to pledge their support.

Eric Van Leer, retired NFL quarterback for the Comets, stood inches above the rest of the crowd, visible from anywhere in the room. He'd strolled in with his husband on his arm and handed over a huge donation, saying the hotel was where he reconnected with his husband, and he wanted the place to still be here for their 50th anniversary one day. Romance author Jordan Kepler and Hollywood actor Max Shepherd didn't just donate their money; they also made an appearance, which served as a massive draw for superfans willing to buy tickets for a steep price. On top of all that, a local omega shelter, A New Day, had tapped the shoulders of their patrons with deep pockets to bring in the big bucks.

I saw a lot of familiar faces in the crowd, people who had stayed here throughout the years, dined here, celebrated their important life events. They felt connected to the hotel almost as much as I did.

"You really are incredible," Emerson whispered in my ear, sending a chill across my skin. I hadn't heard him come up behind me, what with all the noise in here. "I can't believe you pulled all this together in a week."

I leaned back into him, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me in place, without a care for who saw. "Nah, I didn't do much. It was all them," I said, nodding toward the group of staff who had gathered in front of the bar, lifting their glasses in a toast. Most of them were on duty for the banquet, but Emerson wasn't going to scold them for drinking on the job, not tonight. They were all volunteering their time to be here. Delia's cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and Peter, our newest server, was gazing at her with obvious longing. Was that how I looked at Emerson, I wondered.

"I am… so grateful to them. And to you," he said, struggling to get the words out. I knew how hard it was for him to accept help, but he was trying. "Even if we lose the hotel, just know that I appreciate everything you've done."

"Hey," I said, pivoting to look up at him. "It's not over yet."

"I know," he said, nodding, but his eyes were guarded.

We were interrupted by a familiar voice, saying, "There you are." I turned to see Collette puttering over in short, shuffled steps. She was dressed in a floor-length dress with ruffles that looked like she'd pulled the cover off her couch.

"You made it!" I beamed at my neighbor. She didn't get out too often, but I'd invited her all the same. Her grandson trailed behind her, giving me a bashful smile and a shrug. I felt Emerson's grip on me tighten and turn possessive.

I thought I felt the huff of his breath on my cheek, an animalistic growl rumbling through him, and I had to resist the urge to bare my neck to him in a show of submission. "Remember, I chose you," I murmured over my shoulder. He grumbled but didn't say anything rude, at least.

Collette gave me a hug, forcing Emerson to let go of me. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world," she said. "You know my grandson, Alan."

"Yes, of course," I said politely, turning to shake his hand. "Good to see you again."

Meanwhile, behind my back, I distinctly heard Collette mutter to Emerson, "You'd better not hurt Roland."

"I'll do the best I can, ma'am," he assured her, but the way her eyes narrowed dangerously, I wasn't sure how much she believed him.

Halfway through the evening, the numbers started to roll in. Sawyer had set up an online site for collecting donations from across the country, not just here in the city. He'd erected a screen under the banner to display the tally, and when I saw the number, my jaw dropped.

"Emerson," I gasped, reaching for him.

Where my hands gripped his shoulder, his muscles were bunched up, his entire body like stone. "That's… a lot."

"That's more than a lot!" I practically squealed. "That's millions!" I sputtered for a second, thinking maybe I was reading it wrong. Had I miscounted the number of zeroes? "And it's still going up!" I was going to have an aneurysm. "Who are these people who donated so much?"

Hope began to bloom inside me. This could do more than just buy us some time. "Emerson… this might be enough to buy the hotel from your father. You could be free and clear!"

When I finally dragged my focus away from the rolling total and looked at Emerson, I felt my excitement dim. His expression was guarded, his lips flat. "Why aren't you jumping for joy? You're not even smiling." I took him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake. "You should be celebrating! This is the answer to all our problems."

Emerson tried to smile, seemingly to prove me wrong, but it looked tight and painful. My hope burst like a popped balloon. What wasn't he telling me? My lips thinned, and I took him by the hand and led him from the room. No one seemed to notice when we left the party, distracted as they were with their celebration and excessive alcohol consumption.

The doors closed behind us, muffling the festivities. It was startling how quiet it was out here, like a whole different world than the one inside the ballroom. There were a few stragglers lingering near the doors, so I dragged Emerson with me down the hall, searching for somewhere we could be alone.

Once we were somewhere quieter, I turned to look at him. His face showed nothing, like a placid pond, hiding everything that lurked beneath the surface. "Talk to me," I said, getting close, hooking my fingers under his lapels. "We agreed, no more secrets." It still felt like I was crossing a line, breaking a rule we'd gone over time and again, by touching him, but instead of arguing or pulling away, his arms wound around my waist, holding me tight.

"I don't need to buy the hotel from my father. It's all part of Eva's plan. He is more than willing to sign the hotel over to me for free as a wedding gift. Hell, he'd probably just be grateful not to have to deal with her himself anymore. Taking ownership of the hotel won't solve anything. I… I've already signed the paperwork agreeing that after the wedding, half of everything I own, including the hotel, will be hers."

My brain was spinning so fast, I had to close my eyes against the wave of dizziness. This whole time, she'd been worming her way in, right under my nose. "Okay… okay, so you don't buy the hotel, so what? The money might not be a solution, but it'll at least buy you some time, cover a few of her payments. We can figure something out. Sawyer said—"

"You're talking to Sawyer now?" he teased lightly, quirking a brow, obviously trying to lighten the somber mood. "I thought you hated him."

I slapped his chest lightly. "I still hate him, but I can be mature about it. Anyway, he was saying he had a friend in the FBI doing some digging into her past, looking for something to connect her to Santana—drugs, trafficking, money laundering—anything illegal so they can press charges. We just need to postpone this wedding for a little bit longer."

His eyes softened. "How can you be so hopeful?" he asked. "I fought it as long as I could, but the second she threatened you, I had no choice but to give up. And then you… you're so brave, so fearless. How can you just step up and fight my battles without even blinking?"

I bit my lip. I hadn't intended to tell him about the baby yet. I'd thought it would only add more heat to an already overexpanded pressure cooker, but he was struggling to find something worth fighting for. He was ready to just roll over and give the mayor whatever she wanted in order to keep us all safe. "I have to be hopeful, because otherwise, what kind of world am I bringing our child into?" I held my breath as he took in my words.

Emerson seemed confused for a second, frowning. "Our child… but…"

I waited for him to connect the dots. As his eyes got rounder, eyebrows taking a hike up his forehead, he gasped. "There it is," I said, smiling shakily. "Yes, I'm pregnant."

"But we only… once, and that's…" he stuttered.

"Don't you remember from health class?" I said lightly, tugging on his tie. "Once is enough."

His eyes hardened with determination. "Once with you will never be enough."

Emerson stalked forward, forcing me to backtrack. I would've stumbled moving backward at this pace, but his arm around my waist held me upright. "Where are we going?"

"Back to that supply closet, obviously. Back to where this all began," he said darkly, his growing erection pressing into me with each step.

Trusting him to guide us, I focused on loosening his tie, getting a head start on getting naked. "If we're being honest, I think we can both admit that it began long before that kiss."

"Since the very beginning." He reached behind me and wrenched open the door. "And I have years' worth of pent-up sexual repression to unleash on you."

Stumbling through the door, I nearly tripped over a box as he slammed the door shut, enclosing us in shadows. "One of these days, we're going to make it to a bed, right?" I asked, shoving his jacket off. I started working at his shirt buttons, before deciding his pants were more important.

He groaned, long and low. "I can't wait to see you spread out on my bed for me, so I can finally take my time with you." Gripping my hair in his fist, he paused in his frantic undressing. I looked up to see what was the matter and found him staring down at me in awe. "A baby…"

This wasn't the first time I'd felt a glimmer of uncertainty. "You want the baby, right? You don't regret that it happened?"

"Never," he said reverently, peppering me with soft kisses. "My only regret is that I can't get you pregnant again."

"Yet," I said without thinking. But once the word was out, it was like the future spread out in front of me, and I could see it clear as day. A future where Emerson and I were married, a whole brood of children filling our house. It felt… inevitable.

I watched Emerson's smile spread, his eyes distant, as if he too were seeing that future. "Yet," he repeated, before we resumed the shedding of clothes.