“Sir, madam,” he says, his accent so British it’s one step away from caricature.
“Hello, Jarvis,” Wayne says warmly. “Thank you for arranging this.”
“Of course, sir,” Jarvis says. “Would you care to take a seat?”
Wayne grins mischievously, but still with a savage capability glinting in the wintry depths of his eyes.
“You’re the boss,” he says.
Jarvis’s lips tick and then he shakes his head.
Wayne loops his arm around me, hugging me intimately to him, and I can’t help but let the little spanking war drift into the background as we walk into the igloo and take our seats at the table.
“Oh,” I yell, leaping up from the diamond chair.
Except it’s not a diamond chair.
It’s ice.
“You,” I laugh. “You could’ve warned me.”
“Where would the fun be in that?” Wayne chuckles. “Jarvis, if you wouldn’t mind bringing my lady a blanket?”
His lady.
I could get used to that.
“Of course, sir.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, as he drapes a heavy blanket over the ice chair.
“Any drinks to get started with?” Jarvis asks.
“I’ll have an orange soda, if you have it,” I say. “Anna always used to give me orange soda when we were kids. Well, when I was a kid. I guess it was Mom’s favorite drink and I always asked for it when I was upset and … okay, sorry, I didn’t need to tell you my whole life story then.”
“I’m interested,” Wayne says with passion. “Always. Jarvis, two orange sodas, please.”
Jarvis bows and then retreats from the igloo. I look across the flickering candlelight at Wayne, feeling a fuzzy contented heat infuse me despite the icy surroundings.
“When did you arrange this?” I ask.
“Last night,” he says. “It was worth it to see your face light up like this, Winter. You look so goddamn beautiful when you smile.”
I feel myself blushing and then reach across the table, running my thumb along his knuckles, feeling like I know this man even better than myself despite the short time we’ve known each other.
There’s something about our closeness that defies time, that defies logic.
When it works, it works.
And this more than works.
“Wayne, this is for real, right?” I whisper.
“What do you mean?”
I sigh, squeezing his hand harder.
“I mean I’m not going to wake up one day and find out that this was a trick, that you did this for some sick sadistic reason, a joke, a prank. I don’t know.”
“Do you really think I’d do that to you?” he asks.
“No,” I say. “No, I don’t.”
“Good,” he growls. “Because I’d die – I’d kill – before I let anybody hurt you like that. If the assholes in your high school never realized how perfect and beautiful you are, Winter, then I wish I could shake every one of their hands and thank them. Because it left you for me. And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That’s the goddamned truth.”
I love you.
I bite down, killing the words, the silly too-soon words.
But then, what the heck does too soon mean with me and Wayne?
“So, what do you think you want to eat?” Wayne asks.
“Where are the menus?”
“There aren’t any,” he says. “You can have anything. Any dish you can think of, and it’s yours. I don’t want you to think a CEO’s life is all wanton indulgence, but fuck it, this is a special week, and I think I’m entitled to spoil my queen a little.”
“Okay, Wayne,” I say, grinning. “I’ll do you a favor and let you spoil me.”
He smirks and my smile widens, and a drop of melting ice shimmers in the candlelight.
Chapter Eleven
Wayne
With a steak settling nicely in my belly, I hold onto Winter’s hand as we walk through Snowy Crescents.
The small New England town has put up a few decorations for the holiday seasons, lights strung up across Main Street, red and green and yellow, glittering.
But nothing is brighter than the feeling whelming in my chest when I look at Winter, her blonde hair poking out of her winter hat, her cheeks ruddy from her burger and the cold.
Watching her eat was damn sexy, and I don’t care if she doesn’t believe me.
Watching her fuel her body so that she’s strong and sturdy and ready for when our children come made my manhood twitch like a fucking beast, and I was glad Jarvis was there so I didn’t sweep the table clear and place her down, treating her like the sexy fucking goddess she is.
There isn’t much to do in Snowy Crescents, but the walk around the edge of town is quiet and oddly peaceful with the stars watching from the clear sky.
I feel as though something is changing within me, a shift of character I never anticipated before.
I love this woman.
The truth of it thuds into my chest and I almost blurt it out right then, as we walk through the snow to the edge of a park, and then through the ice-coated gate and down the blanketed path.
But something stops me, an inner roadblock I didn’t anticipate.
We’re moving fast and that’s good.
No, fuck that, it’s great.
But I’ve never said those words to anyone before, let alone actually thought about saying them, and the last thing I want is for her to tell me I’m moving too damn fast and scare her off.
I hold her hand tighter as we move deeper into the park, under the shadows of some trees where my desire overwhelms me and I spin to her, smoothing my hands down her body and pulling her close to me.
Her lips are soft and warm and sweet as I crush mine into hers.
Her tongue is even hotter, and when she moans through the kiss I have to forcibly remind myself that we’re in public.
Then I hear a deep-throated laugh coming from behind me, the sort of noise that reminds me of certain members of my board of directors, cruel men who are soon going to be shunted from my business.
I break off the kiss and turn to find five men standing as shadowy silhouettes in the darkness, with five matching bottles of liquor in their hands.
The man at the front steps forward, wide and tall, around six-five.
All of them are tall and strong-looking, the sort of men who hit the gym regularly and most likely hit the illegal enhancements, too, to get an unfair advantage.
The leader of this rabble has a bald head, turned crimson with the cold, and when he speaks his voice is clear despite the liquor.
“Ain’t you that rich fella?” he snaps, as though this is in itself a crime. “I swear I saw you on TV once. You are, ain’t you? That high-and-mighty motherfucker who likes to pretend he don’t screw his workers over like the rest of them?”
I sigh and subtly move Winter so she’s standing behind me.
“Why don’t we both just mind our own business?” I say coldly.
“And by the way,” Winter snaps from just behind me, “he’s not pretending to be a good person. He actually is one.”
“Hmm,” the man says, moving something around his mouth. He spits and an inky blot splatters the pathway. Chewing tobacco. “I see you’re into those special types of whores, those… Those shapely fucking cunts.”