really glad I asked you to blow up that contract and stay longer.”
Doyle yanks me out of the water with his I’m-not-really-coughing cough. Too late. Damon is already shooting a look of strange curiosity. “Contract?” he demands. “What the—”
“Yes, well.” Ella scoops up her phone and flits to her feet, distracting everyone by whirling her hair and dress with the ease of a model in a shampoo ad. “I still owe my parents that particular update. Excuse me for a moment?” Before Damon can get in another word, she’s disappeared into the suite’s second bedroom.
Before she can fully unlock her phone once she’s there, I’ve joined her.
And shut the door. And locked it.
And pulled her to the bed. And down into a long, wet, I-need-you-more-than-air kiss. In response, she moans into my mouth, tangles her fingers in my hair, and fits her body to mine in all the best, curviest places. I accept every scintilla of her passion, letting her magic drench me, devour me, control me. Though my jewels are on her wrist, she is the one who holds me captive—and I never want to be set free.
Many minutes later, I finally let her pull away a little. With hooded eyes and a sultry smile, she traces the edges of my mouth with the oval of one fingernail. “Hmmm. I like what sibling rivalry does to you, Mr. Court.”
I let her emphasize that with a brush of her lips, answering with a long, rough purr. “Thank fuck you stepped in when you did. The punches for touching you would’ve been twice as hard.”
“Cassian.” She jabs a soft knee into my ribs. “He was a gentleman. Always.”
“I know,” I console. “I know. But if he had—”
“Aggghh.” The knee thrusts harder. I laugh softly.
“Didn’t you come in here for a reason?” Time to change the subject before I switch it up by myself—like conjuring an excuse to lift her skirt, shove aside her panties, and get inside her while my brother, my valet, and my houseman listen enviously from the next room. “Something about a text to your mom and dad…?”
She huffs. Rolls her eyes. But finally mutters, “Yes. Regrettably. I updated them briefly once we decided to appear on Chantal’s show, but was vague about how.”
I scowl. “And they didn’t blow up your phone after we went on?” More importantly, they didn’t blast her about how the whole damn thing ended?
“Surprisingly, no—but that was likely because the media sentiment swayed with you.” She punctuates with a soft snarl. “As it should have. Chantal pulled a smarmy move, and everyone knows it.”
“I’m also a little protective, and everyone knows it.”
“And everyone loves you for it.” She wriggles closer, turning up her face with that corner lip bite that makes me a little crazier for her with every new incarnation. “My passionate, neurotic warrior.”
I dip in. Am unable to resist tasting her again. “Neurotic warrior. Hmmm. That ought to go over well with Maimanne and Paipanne.”
She giggles. “Definitely.”
I brush some curls off her face…and let a rush of instinct rise within me. Higher. Stronger. Guiding words out of me that I’ve not expected…but feel so damn right.
“You know what might go over better?”
“What?”
“‘Neurotic fiancé.’”
Heavy blink. Complete stillness. I’m not even sure she’s breathing, until a deep gulp moves down her throat. “Wh-what?”
I let a smile rise up, originating from the depths of my heart. Gather a handful of her soft, golden curls in my hand, making sure her gaze is subject to the full intent of mine…all the love inside me…all the completion my soul will know with no one else…
“Mishella DaLysse Santelle, I want you become Mishella DaLysse Court. To be with me forever. To keep saving my ridiculous life…so I can keep owing you every inch of my heart…my body…my spirit.”
“Cassian. I—”
“I already know your heart belongs to me.” I lift my fingertips to her jaw, running them over that proud angle…the outline of the face I now know I cannot live without. “And I already know your soul won’t be so easy, because part of it belongs to Arcadia. Well, now part of mine does too.” I answer her questioning gape with a resolved nod. “This craziness Damon has presented, making me reevaluate and rethink all the projects we have there, has made me realize they aren’t just ‘projects’ anymore. I care about making things right in Arcadia…for you. With you.”
She answers that with a high gasp. A joyous sigh. An excited little nod—before the fervent, passionate press of