"Of course I'll marry you," Veda whispers with a flirtatious curve of her lips. "As long as you don't mind picking your wife up from school."
Without looking at the priest, I beckon him closer. "Angel, I prefer it."
Epilogue
My fingers drum impatiently on the conference table.
The board meeting in which I'm sitting is running long, and Veda is due to arrive from school any moment. Normally, I wouldn't mind if she waltzed in like she owned the place and perched her sweet backside right on my lap, that plaid skirt spreading across my thighs while everyone gawks. After all, that's what she does most afternoons when my driver brings her into Manhattan, allowing her to complete the day distracting me or napping on one of my office couches.
She's late, however. Only by two minutes, which could easily be accounted for by traffic, but I don't want a rational explanation, I want my hands sliding up the insides of her thighs.
If you thought I was territorial before, you have no idea where I've landed since returning from Amsterdam. Our relationship has graduated to a level I never anticipated. Perhaps my new threshold of greed and possessiveness over Veda has something to do with how I eliminated the obstacle of Jack. Her father. But lately I've felt myself … filling his shoes in more and more ways. While I would never consider myself even one iota similar to the man, there's no denying how much I covet his former role of provider, nurturer, most important male figure in Veda's life.
So in addition to her lover, husband and hungry bastard who can't get enough of her taste, I've taken on a position I never knew I craved. But now I wonder if I'll ever get enough of it.
No. The answer is no. Impossible.
The members of my board are beginning to check their own watches, shifting nervously in their seats, as if they know their boss will self-destruct if his delicious wife doesn't grace the room with her presence very fucking soon. And they're right. There is about one minute left before I tear the city apart demanding the sight of her. The angel I haven't beheld since she skipped off toward the front door this morning, blowing me kisses over her shoulder.
In the month since we came back from Amsterdam, Veda has blossomed into not just a young bride, but a woman with purpose. In her mother's memory, she has created a charity for children of cancer victims who need monetary support, and of course, I have thrown my weight behind the project, supporting her in any way I can. As long as her schoolwork continues to be stellar, she can plan charity walks and cocktail parties to her heart's content. I'll be present at each and every one, wearing my pride like a badge of honor.
Thirty seconds left. Thankfully, I hear the elevator ding somewhere down the hall, signaling Veda's arrival at the office. My dick is already solid and heavy behind my fly, ready to slide home between my wife's incomparable thighs. Everyone around the table relaxes, and the person leading the presentation tries not to be obvious as he begins to wrap up the meeting.
Veda stands in the doorway a moment later, the leather satchel I bought her hanging on one shoulder. Shit. Every day she glows a little hotter, this girl. Blonde hair flows in waves all around her, curving over her tits and teasing her trim waist. Her skirt gets a little shorter, too, with each passing week. Something we'll be speaking about later, probably while she's bent over my knee.
I swallow a growl, but she writhes against the doorframe as if she heard it just the same. "Hi, Ramsey." She pinky waves at the room in general. "Hi, everyone."
"Hello, Veda," comes the chorus of male voices, all muffled because their chins are tucked into their chests, each and every one of them knowing better than to show interest in the too young siren who sways into the room.
Wearing a rock on her finger that could sink a ship.
But she doesn't come directly toward me, spinning on her tiptoes around my chair, her scent tempting my control. Tease. She's still a tease, and I allow it, because I know she likes the chastisement I mete out. And Christ knows I love giving it.
As soon as the room clears, she scoots onto the table, throwing herself backwards across the center of the massive piece of furniture, arms up over her head, just out of my reach. "I missed you today."
My heart goes into a tailspin, even as I grind my teeth. "Then I fail to see why you're so far away right now."
She turns onto her side, tucking both hands beneath her cheek. With the Manhattan skyline behind her in the oversized window, she looks like an angel floating down from the clouds. "Don't you want to know why I was late?"