An Alpha's Desire Page 32

  She nods, clutching the diary to her chest.

  ###

  On the first floor, both of our cell phones are going off like fireworks with FaceTime calls from Ephraim and Juliet alike. I pick up my cell and accept the call from Juliet’s phone. Her picture pops up on the screen. Her hair is back to its usual dark blonde frazzled mess.

  “I’ve called you guys a bazillion fucking times!” she grumbles, glaring at me through the screen. “I missed class today, and we had a friggin important exam.”

  My tone is stern, “Why did you miss class?”

  “Hello? Why not! First, I see that crusty ho—”

  “Crackhead Becky,” Ephraim says in the background.

  “Crackhead Becky.” She chuckles. “Damn it, Eph, you’re usually more asshole than comedian, but I like that! I like that!” She moves over so that both of them fit into the phone.

  “What the fuck, bro,” Ephraim argues. “We’ve called you guys all damn day. Juliet’s paternity results are on their way to Rydell Money Management, and they’re waiting for you to sign over your business. Can’t attest to this girl offering to sign it back, though.”

  Juliet cackles. “I’ll sign back a portion, maybe…”

  My eyes widen. “Wait, did you agree to this, Jules?”

  She nods. “Yes. My therapist and I have had a breakthrough. Trust me, I actually need the money to pay Ms. Curtis back.”

  “You’re seeing Angelique?” Desire squeals from behind me. “She didn’t tell me—I guess she couldn’t tell me.”

  “Yeah, I had no intentions of speaking with a therapist. However, I had to make my own hair appointment with Niecy while you were in Morocco. Angelique was in the hot seat when I arrived. We all talked about your party in the Bahamas and, seriously, the MFT in her came out while talking about your aunt and mom. Anyway, I’ve been seeing her since then. I’ll tell you, I’m disappointed in having to see you all propose on television. Now, the bride wars begin, muahahaha.” She chuckles, flashing her engagement ring from Lee before disconnecting the call.

  Seconds pass while everything sinks in. My kid sister will save Titan Aerospace. I shove away thoughts of how harsh Rebecca will be punished as Desire places the diary onto the mantel.

  “You, my beautiful, will soon become Desirenda Rutledge,” I groan against her caramel skin, biting her neck before bestowing it with a single kiss. I press her body against the wall. My rough fingertips glide over the pulse at her neck. Her heart is beating wildly, and I bestow a kiss at that exact spot.

  My woman purrs, bringing my cock to life.

  “I can’t wait to make love to you as my wife,” I tell her while descending to my knees, but the look in my eyes tells her that I will be loving on her sweetest parts now. My hand dominates her flat belly before reaching the clasp of her jeans. I pull at the skintight material.

  Wedged between myself and the wall, Desire has nowhere to run. Every fiber in her body is melting before me as I guide her panties down. I am going to enjoy loving Desire’s body, but damn, I can hardly wait to place the wedding ring on her finger.

  Epilogue

  One Year later

  Desire

  It’s almost eleven am, and the tide flushes softly against the shore of my island. There are only thirty white chairs placed with the turquoise water as their focal point. Yet, my focus is acute and transfixed on even the smallest details as the two newest members of my event planning company work to place a bamboo arch, stationed near the shore.

  “Lacy, what are their names?” I ask. The Lord has prospered my business, and I can’t for the life of me recall all of the workers’ names.

  “Edgar and Clara,” Lacy mumbles back, focused on placing a bouquet of exotic flowers into the purple sash situated around the chair. She does everything meticulously and still has nineteen more to go.

  I call out to the two of them. “A little to the left, thank you… that’s perfect.”

  I turn around and then notice that the seashells stationed at the perimeter of the aisle seats have been placed all wrong. I almost snap my fingers in thought of my other assistant’s name, but Lacy cuts in. “Hey.” Her tone is commanding. “Go inside, Desire. Stop worrying about us and get dressed.”

  “But—”

  “Nobody directs their own wedding, especially if they’re the last person that needs to be seen.” Lacy glances at me sideways.

  There’s no challenging her though I try, “Hello, that’s why I’m burning up in this hoodie and sweats.”

  “Leave—”

  “I obviously don’t have much hair to do….”

  “Desire, do not make me use this walkie-talkie.” She reaches into her pocket, pulls it out, and shakes it. “I swear, I’ll call Daniel.”

  “Freddy.” I finally recall the name of the man organizing shells around the perimeter. He isn’t as new as the others, but my brain is frazzled with thoughts of marriage. “Ixnay on the seashells.”

  I hike toward my home. Shit, I am to be married at high noon, which is less than an hour away. Meandering through the palm trees and foliage, I stop dead in my tracks when I hear two voices.

  My mom’s and Azalea’s.

  There doesn’t appear to be anyone else with them. These two have been more than cordial to each other over the past months, however, there’s no use in getting them to strike up a conversation together.

  “Hey, Princess,” Azalea notices me first.

  “Hey…” I glance to and fro. I hadn’t intended to see them until after I dressed.

  “Niecy and the girls are searching for you,” my mom says. “You ditched them.”

  “Oh, I was just… running…” I glance down at myself, baggy sweat suit and all.

  “What if Daniel saw you,” my mom chides.

  “Um… what were the two of you doing together?” I ask out of the blue.

  “Searching for you, girl. It wouldn’t do to have a runaway bride less than an hour before the wedding.”

  “What am I gonna do? Swim to the mainland?” I follow them into the kitchen entrance where a Michelin chef and his team are already hard at work, preparing a feast. My mouth opens, but my aunt cuts me off. “Desire, don’t even try it. We know just how much running you were doing on the shore. Everything will be perfect.”

  “Amen, to that,” my mom agrees. “I’ll be bragging about this wedding until my memory fails me.”

  On the second level, I hear Juliet and Daniel speaking to each other, but my mom and aunt guide me toward the master suite. Mary J. Blige is streaming through the speakers, and I can smell hair products. All of my girls are either being pampered with makeup or hair being pushed into the required updos. Even Niecy has nothing to do with her hands.

  “Y’all found her,” Angelique gushes.

  “Yes, they did.” I turn to the two. “Okay, Mom, Auntie, I will see you both—”

  “Desire,” Niecy chides.

  “What? There are stylists waiting for them too.”

  “We brought all of the stylists in here, Desirenda.” Angelique smiles, warning me that I won’t be rid of the two just yet. I inwardly grumble. Though my mom and aunt are affable enough, my sensitivity is tapped out, and I’m perceptive of the little things. I don’t have the heart to see not one stank face.

  “Girl, get into the shower,” my mom orders, claiming the seat Angelique has just risen from.

  ### Daniel

  “You sure I can’t sign back half of Titan to you?” I ask Juliet while she’s seated near the balcony, smiling at Desire’s wedding ring.

  “Yeah, right. That would leave the board members in the majority. This brain,” she says tapping her frizzy head, “might be more equipped to speak with dolphins, but I recall my brother saying not all his team members would go to bat for him.”

  “I don’t recall saying that, Fat Head. Why aren’t you in the room with Des, straightening your hair?”

  “Humph, you said something similar. Anyway, can’t I embrace my kinks?”
She coifs her hair. “Actually, Lee prefers it like this, but I thought he liked it straight. I like it frizzy too.”

  “Oh,” I reply, slipping into the white linen jacket for my beach wedding. “So, I would still prefer if you took a percentage of the company, Juliet. You are a Rutledge. It’s rightfully yours.”

  “I know that, Daniel,” she replies. Her voice isn’t laced with the usual irritation. “But I have no interest in sitting in on meetings.”

  I grumble. So far, everything has worked out as planned regarding my business. Rebecca Christly went to the LA Courthouse with bogus accusations about me. As I suspected, it was all a ruse to get the media involved. Her ass ended up with nothing. The Levine and Son law team used a loophole. If there was one thing my grandfather hated, he wouldn’t allow the Rutledge name to be slandered. Now the bitch has to fend for her own drugs.

  The majority of Titan Aerospace has my name on it again, yet I’d prefer that my sister take her rightful place.

  “I’ll stick with marine biology,” Juliet assures.

  “Well, I’ll sign your portion over to Lee the Second.”

  “Fat chance,” she shrieks, rubbing her tiny womb.

  “Why can’t the two of you newlyweds just ask the ob/gyn already? Everything doesn’t have to be a secret,” I huff.

  “Such as me keeping a secret about us marrying in Vegas until we all dragged you into the chapel at Mandalay?” She grins.

  “His ass was ready to shit a fucking brick,” Ephraim says from behind me, coming out of the bathroom dressed in a linen suit of a different cut. “Kid sister married before he did.”

  “Although you are filled with surprises, Jules, I agreed that Lee loves you. Aren’t you Mrs. Oshawa now? So I must’ve agreed to something along the lines of the two of you striking a union.”

  “Tsk, I would have married, regardless of your agreement,” Juliet tosses back, rising. “Actually, I am really glad that you appreciate Lee. And I love Desire too. She’s the sister I prayed and prayed for as a child. Now, you boys get downstairs. Only Desire is allowed to be fashionably late.”

  We all head out of the room. Juliet meanders across the way to Desire’s room, and Ephraim and I start down the stairs.

  “Maybe I might settle down,” Ephraim mentions unexpectedly. “Find myself a sweet Jewish girl? Make Abner proud of me? Nah, I cannot have a woman get their claws into me. I’d damn near suffocate.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, Eph,” I tell him. Although, somewhere deep down, he truly has a point. Desire and I have read Tamar Bower’s diary from front page to last. I almost forced Desire to stop reading it with all the tears she shed. I can understand the term suffocating. My Grandfather Wentworth had to have been suffocating after Tamar died. Her tragic and unexpected passing caused his heart to harden. He had to have been drowning, pulled under by the tide when alienating himself from good friends, like Ian Levine.

  “Shit, who’re you telling?” Ephraim’s heavy tone transports me to the present. “I look at the two of you, and I honestly wish I had …” His voice trails off as one of the servers passes by us. The woman is dressed in black slacks, a linen shirt, and a black vest. Ephraim’s gaze tracks the woman’s ass all the way.

  “Down boy,” I tell him as we head toward the shore.

  ###

  It’s a quarter ‘til one. I stand beneath the bamboo arch, patiently waiting for my bride. Ephraim is at my side and Lee is next to him, along with Riley as ring bearer. The bridesmaids come out, one at a time.

  And then my heart jumps into my throat as Desire appears. “Fuck,” I whisper. The pastor quietly clears his throat.

  My gaze is consumed with the only sure thing in my future. The stock market may crash and Titan Aerospace could go out of business, yet the only thing on God’s green earth that can break my heart, or make me feel the total helplessness that my grandfather felt, is losing Desire.

  Her lace dress is tight against perky breasts and hips before flaring outward. Best body ever. Gold of Kinabalu Orchids are entwined atop her hair. Subtle filigree gold jewelry adorns her beauty; she is a queen in her own right. But my eyes are focused on her face. That innocent, baby doll face will never shed a single tear if I have my way. At that thought, I feel a bit of wetness on my jaw.

  “Bro, stop crying,” Ephraim advises.

  THE END

  “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

  1 Corinthians 3:13

  Author’s Note:

  As always, I am forever thankful that you’ve given my work a chance. I hope you enjoyed this story every bit as much as I did. (Although, writing epilogues still sucks, I hope you enjoyed this one too. LOL) Please write a review so that I can understand your thoughts on what you loved, liked, and not so much….

  Side note, I decided to leave just a little out of Nolan and Tamar’s love story. In the beginning of this book, Wentworth I was the ultimate villain. He seemed like a racist asshole. Well, I actually imagined his story first when my best friend and author Janice Ross gave me the plot for Daniel’s story. Janice Ross has an array of awesome stories for you to 1-click. Any who, I have a fondness for historical fiction, although regency is my favorite, I’d like to write Nolan and Tamar’s story. Though it won’t end in an HEA for obvious reasons, I’ve decided to hold off. Please leave a review and let me know if you’d be interested in reading about these two. Their romance, did in fact, go down in history??

  ***

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  PROLOGUE

  Brazil

  Vassili Karo Resnov

  “You good?” Vadim, my coach, asks in Russian while applying pressure to the gash on my forehead. Blood is smeared all over the canvas beneath my feet. It’s dripping from the incision at my temple. The medic already cleared me to continue. Though the sticky steam has left me with only one eye to see straight.

  “Yeah,” I respond. My gaze is dead while I glare through my enemy, Tiago, seated in the corner across from me. Ten years ago, I would’ve laughed at the fucking hot head. I was cocky too. Backing my shit up has always come easy. Now my entire body is on fire and killing Tiago in the ring is my fuel to survive.

  “Your knee good?”

  The death trance I’ve clung to for two rounds fades to black at the second Vadim mentions my knee. A vivid image of my wife, Zariah, permeates my mind. Her mahogany skin lost its glow, deep brown eyes were full of disdain as the physician injected cortisone in my left knee not an hour ago. Marriage to an attorney means I've got to fucking defend myself when she's worried about me. Don’t get me wrong, there are broads in this world that want nothing but to hang on my arm and get a piece of me. Ain’t nothing like having a real woman who loves you, regardless of your faults. Truth is, she isn’t all debates and arguments. I shouldn’t have returned just yet. But I was born for the octagon. All I have ever loved was pounding in flesh, and her, and our baby, Natasha.

  “You aren’t ready to return, Vassili…” Zariah had said. She loves to bust my fucking balls, though she wasn't far from reality. Every time I step into the cage, man, her heart breaks a little. I’m a damn occupational hazard and she’s too good for this shit, too good for me. So how did I get such an innocent treasure? One, I’m not a fucking quitter. I loved Zariah before she even gave me a chance. Seven whole damn years, and I lost my heart to this girl before she offered the key to her own.

  Vadim’s bushy white eyebrows rise, “Vassili, you good?” he asks again.


  I shake the daze from my brain. “Khorosho. Khorosho —Good. Good. Just a little fucking blood.” A lot of fucking blood.

  “A little blood never hurt, eh? Karo, knock ‘em the fuck out,” Nestor says, handing me a cup of water.

  “No, Karo’s going to lay Tiago to rest,” Vadim has the same hungry glare in his eyes as he preps me with more Vaseline. “Keep him moving. He’ll tire. You’re doing good, Karo, don’t let him get to your fucking knee. Bring that mudak down. Kill ‘em, Karo, kill ‘em.”

  I nod. Standing to my feet. Tiago and I come together once more. I lock his arms and pen him against the fence. My good knee jabs into his abs. With each force, I annihilate his liver. Tiago goes back to the clinch. A hook punch lands against the back of my ear and we’re back to the middle of the cage. Back and forth we go, fist for bricks, like one of us pissed on the other’s mother’s grave. I’ve got power, this motherfucker is just as dominating.

  Tire him out. Bring him down for the kill—

  A kick against my left knee forces venom through my veins. White noise buzzes in my ear. Instantly my mind is on her and her fucking disappointment.

  Kill. Kill. Kill… It should be the only thought in my mind. But Zariah’s arguing has bull rushed into my headspace. Shit, don’t think about Zariah now, I’m gonna bitch out! She’s sitting in the front row. Though a professional at taking hits, I’m not stupid enough to glance her way. My stats: 25 knock outs, 9 submissions. Two loses… The first was as an amateur. The second left me with a fractured patella, 217 days ago and I’ve been ready to get my ass in the octagon since then.

  It’s as if Zariah’s heart is beating through mine as Tiago realizes my knee isn’t as ‘good’ as I’ve let on during our promotions. With each blow, I counter, knowing she’s right there, unable to breathe. Tiago alternates from targeting my knee to that gash against my head. The high my left knee was on has ended, no dull ache. Feels like a serrated knife burning on coals has sliced through my knee.