Mr. Mitchell Billionaires' Club Book 2 - Raylin Marks Page 0,118

women I’ve ever met. I’ve never known anyone to deal with so much tragedy and come out the other side. To go through that nightmare—” I stopped and smiled. “Yes, I’m reading between the lines here as you don’t need to divulge details to me for me to grab onto the point. However, if you ever want to talk about this—any of this—I’m here. Always.”

“I know. I guess I should have spoken up about my past a while ago.”

“I understand childhood trauma isn’t something people bring up on a first date. You have no reason to feel obligated to have done so sooner. I can only imagine the strength it takes to talk about it at all, so please know that I’m glad you told me now,” I said, bringing my lips to hers. “I will do everything in my power to make sure you and Addy are happy and well taken care of. I swear to God, if there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it. If the house is too fucking big and you want to move into a nice neighborhood with children playing around? I’ll buy us a place that will suit us three together.”

“You weren’t messing around when we went down this road tonight, were you?”

“No,” I said. “It might not be a marriage proposal, but it’s everything like that and more. When the time is right—for you and Addy—to trust me, you’ll be my missus.”

“Might want to hold off on the suburbs, champ. At the rate you’re going, we’ll be married tomorrow night.”

“Here at the gala?”

She smirked. “It’s probably the nicest décor in a room I’ve ever seen. Who needs wedding planners when you have it all set and ready?”

“Guests all including doctors, board members, investors, and executives?”

“Why not?” She laughed. “Someone’s gotta show up for the wedding of the century.”

“You, Avery,” I brought her into my arms, “are seriously too much. And don’t think I didn’t pay attention to the neighborhood you currently live in. If anything, I’ll buy you the house in the suburbs right now, and I’ll move in when you’re ready to bring me into your life like that.”

“What if Addy and I don’t want you to move in?”

I laughed. “Well, that will suck really fucking bad because I would very much like to come home to both of you one day.”

“Call me a spoiled little bitch,” she poked my ribcage, “but I’d rather live in your resort in the Hills. In the city but still high above it. Rooftop sex?”

“Rooftop sex?” I arched an eyebrow at her, and suddenly my dick wanted to enter the conversation. “You can move in tomorrow night after we land. Your car is being delivered there anyway.”

“Let’s go slow for Addison.”

“Let me find you a better neighborhood, then, or I’m sleeping on your fucking couch.”

“No,” Avery said in this commanding, yet charming voice. “Derek has no idea we live there. He’s our only threat, and that’s when he’s high. Other than that, Addy and I are safe. I love that you care, but I don’t need to be taken care of like that. In this department, I need us to move a bit slower.”

“I know you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and Addy. Okay, fine,” I sighed and conceded. “For now, though.”

“For now,” she simply stated. “I know we’re trying to play a heavy commitment game, but trust me on this, okay?”

“Avery, I won’t hurt you. I promise you that.”

“I know,” she said, but I saw the sadness in her eyes, sadness as if I’d already hurt her but had no idea what I’d done.

“Hey,” she pushed up and sat on her knees, “I’m jumping in the shower. Wanna join me?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” I sat up, pulled her into my chest, and kissed her lips. “I already want you again. It’s just about how I’m going to take your sweet little ass this time around.”

She laughed, kissing my nose. “You love to run the show in this department, so you have to share the little sexual interludes, Mr. Mitchell.”

“You realize I hate hearing that come out of your mouth, right?”

She laughed with that sweet, scratchy, sexy laugh. “Well, you are Mr. Mitchell, the fucking CEO of the company I work for.”

“We have to find you another job,” I said, rolling my eyes. “To everyone I have to be an asshole, I’m Mr. Mitchell. To you, I’m Jim. I love hearing you say my name like you do. No nicknames,

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