FIGHT OR FLIGHT
Vera
There are sights no one should ever endure: a dying child, a field of corpses, an animal tortured for sport, and murder up close. Holly’s last sound was a glass-shattering scream before Erin’s bullet shattered her skull.
I shouted Holly’s name, but received no response. Crimson fluid seeped into my dress while I grappled with what was happening. Pieces of her skull were on my lap as her body lost its life. “This isn’t h-happening. I-it can’t be,” I stammered. I was in too much shock to mourn or cry. I didn’t dare look at Holly again. My eyes couldn’t unsee what they had already seen, and once was enough.
Fight or flight—choose fast.
I chose the first, fleeing from Holly’s lifeless body to protect Alistair. Call it instinct or protectiveness, I was ready to fight for him.
“No,” he growled, shielding me from Erin.
“Step away, Scotty. I don’t want to hurt you. It’s her blood I want,” she ordered, pointing the gun at me.
“Why?” I asked. She looked deranged with her unkempt hair, hollow eyes, and gaunt cheeks.
“Holly was an easy kill,” she said, glancing at the dead body before fixing a hateful glare at me. “Do you know that the area between the eyes and nose is the best place to shoot you dead? It’s called the T-box. All it takes is good practice at the shooting range.”
Alistair stared hard at Erin. “Put the gun down.”
Ignoring him, Erin’s crazed eyes widened. “Beyond the T-box is the lower brain. It houses the brain stem that allows our vital organs, including the heart, to function. When I hit it, bam. Instant shutdown.”
She tilted the gun higher. “I gave your friend a quick death. One shot. No pain, no time to scream. If you’re lucky, I’ll give you the same. Want to know how it feels to die?”
“No,” I said. “I am not dying today.”
“SHUT UP!” Erin’s scream blasted through the room, my ears ringing from the force. Her lips curled tight. “The last thing you’ll see is this gun before your brain bursts.”
“Don’t do it,” Alistair pleaded. “Think of Camilla and Oliver. Think of our family.”
“Family?” Erin shrieked. “Oliver left me. He took Camilla. All because of that slut of yours, Scotty.”
The words hit like whiplash. “What? Why?” I gasped.
“You leaked my story to the press.”
“What the fuck?” The disbelief ripped out of me. “You think that was me?”
“Take your phone out of your handbag over there.” Erin pointed the gun toward my Hermès Birkin bag on the table by the window.
I hesitated, taking a careful step.
“Do it. Now,” Erin ordered.
My eyes locked with Alistair’s, begging him without words to trust me. I brushed my fingers over his, a silent promise I’d be okay. He nearly didn’t let go. For him, surrendering control was agony. For me, it was survival.
Finally, his hand slipped away. I crossed to the table, lifted the bag, and pulled out my phone. The screen lit under my thumb as I unlocked it, the glow sharp against the darkness closing in.
“Now, go to Lester Harbor Exposed. What’s on the home page?” Erin snapped.
Oh, God. No.
“Read it aloud. I want Scotty to hear what you’ve done.” She flicked the gun like a pointer, daring me to refuse.
The words blurred as I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling. “This week’s exclusive story: Who fathered Erin Everton-Scott’s child? Lester Harbor lawyer Vera Richland reveals the ugly truth about Camilla Scott.” My voice faltered on the last line.
“Erin, this wasn’t me,” I protested.
“Read it.”
“Miss Richland, who is billionaire Alistair Scott’s live-in lover, claims he is the biological father of Erin’s daughter.” My throat closed on those words. “This is preposterous. I swear to God, it wasn’t me. I never spoke to the press.”
“You’re a liar.” Erin sneered. “You aired my filth to the press.” She whipped her gaze to Alistair. “Don’t you see? She’s the thorn between us. She’s manipulating you.”
“Manipulating me?” Alistair scoffed. “The only one pulling the strings here is the woman pointing the gun.” His eyes flicked at Holly’s corpse, then back to Erin. “We can clean this mess, but not if you pull the trigger.”
Her grip trembled, desperation seeping through the rage. “You and I… We still have a chance, don’t we?” Her wild eyes begged him for something that no longer existed.
He pressed his lips and bowed his head. His green eyes sparkled like jewels when he looked up. Except, the sparkle wasn’t joyous. His eyes glistened with tears. “Don’t do it,” he pleaded hoarsely.
“You don’t understand. Vera destroyed everything I had.”
“Who fed you that bullshit?” he demanded.
“Does it matter?”
“I want to know everything, Erin. Who’s been whispering in your ear? And were you responsible for the media attacks against Vera and me?”
Erin’s swollen lips gave way to a smirk as she tilted her head. “The smear campaign was Oliver’s idea. He wanted to have a little fun, so I asked a friend for help.”
Alistair’s lips lost their color when they tightened. “Who is this friend?”
“Saira Quinn.” Erin’s smirk widened. “She and I met at a few social events. She said she’d pull strings on Lester Harbor Exposed.”
My stomach turned cold. “Saira is poison, Erin. Poison to your soul.”
“She’s my friend, and she’ll be out of jail before you know it. She called me this afternoon about the article. Said you’d be at the brothel, catching Alistair fucking that whore.”
Oh, my God. Can Erin be any dumber?
This was Saira’s chaos. She weaponized Erin’s stupidity. Holly would kill Alistair, and Erin would finish Holly and me. Curtain down, grand finale. I could still see Saira’s evil smile when she said, “There’s a broken animal who’s on the loose.” She meant both Holly and Erin. That’s how she saw us all: tools, weapons, and beasts in her menagerie.
Of course.
Holly fed Saira the details: time, place, and the willingness to lure Alistair. All Saira needed was a phone. Even behind bars, money bought her access. A bribe here, a favor there. Gold promised, strings pulled.
I shook my head. “You let Saira control you.”
“My enemy’s enemy… I guess that makes Saira my friend. For now.”
“Erin,” Alistair cut in, “Saira used you to destroy me. Do you still trust her? Did you…” His eyes narrowed. “Did you tell her about our affair?”
Erin froze, lips pressed shut.
“Christ,” Alistair cursed. “Don’t you see? Saira twisted what you gave her and paid a journalist to fabricate that garbage.”
“What?” Erin’s blank “What?” The blankness in Erin’s stare was almost childlike.
Saira had pegged her perfectly. For all Erin’s vanity, she was gullible, a pawn who couldn’t tell left from right.
“But why would my friend do this to me?” She swung the pistol again, reckless, the barrel slicing the air. I flinched. “Vera’s the one who’s always wanted to ruin me.”
“Erin, put the gun down and think.” Alistair’s command was pure steel.
“Oliver left me.” The admission fell out of her in a broken whisper. Tears streaked her hollow cheeks.
“Camilla still needs you,” I said, steadying my breath. “You can fight for her.”
Erin faltered. For a second, I thought she might lower the gun, but her grief curdled into hate.
“No. Picture this. You love a man who swore forever, only to watch him forced into another marriage. Years later, he’s free, and you still love him.”
“What about Oliver? You chose to marry him,” I said. “There’s nothing innocent about that. Affairs only end one way. Someone gets hurt.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Erin hissed at me before snapping her gaze to Alistair. “Scotty, do you remember swearing you’d love me forever? I thought the night we conceived Camilla bound us for life. But then your whore came along and destroyed everything.”
Alistair’s jaw locked. “Never call Vera that. What happened between us has nothing to do with her. You’re clinging to the past. Let it go.”
Erin’s voice trembled. “You can’t love her. It’s not right. She’s not me.”
Alistair’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “That’s why I love Vera. Because she’s not you.”
She raised the gun, the barrel locked on me. “I can’t live with that,” she spat. “You’re poison, Vera. All you’ve ever done is ruin the Scott family from the inside.”
“I can see you’re hurting, Erin,” I tried reasoning. “I’ve been through pain, too. I was enamored with a man who didn’t love me back. My ex-boyfriend abused me.”
She aimed straight at my chest. “You deserved everything you got. I want you to feel my pain.” Her finger tightened on the trigger.
“Erin, please,” I begged for my life.
“Vera Richland, I have determined you are no longer fit for purpose. Your use-by date has expired. One of us must die.”
She stepped closer, her finger tensing on the trigger, and smiled. “And I choose you.”
Alistair moved before I even had time to breathe. One second, the gun was aimed at me. The next, his body slammed into mine, knocking me to the ground. The crack of the gunshot split the air. My scream tore out as he shielded me.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered with a weak smile, then collapsed, sliding against a chair before hitting the floor.
“Alistair, please.” I dropped to my knees, gathering him into my arms, my tears soaking his shirt.
The door burst open, two armed officers storming inside. Frank Berry and Constance Fraser swept the room in seconds. Erin stood frozen, gun limp in her hand, her face twisted in shock. Frank wrenched the weapon away and dragged her out while she screamed Alistair’s name like a banshee.
“Get an ambulance here. Now,” Constance called out.
All I could focus on was the man bleeding in my arms.
Alistair Bryce Scott took a bullet for me.
LIVE FOR LOVE
Vera
“Alistair, we’re getting help. An ambulance is on its way,” Constable Fraser assured, kneeling by his side.
“Scotty, speak to me,” I pleaded. I was about to unbutton his shirt to see the wound when he placed his warm hand on mine.
He groaned, then smiled wearily. “Sweetheart, did I ever tell you I love you?
“All the time,” I said, holding onto hope. “I love you, too.”
“Alistair, how are you feeling?” the police officer asked. Loose strands of her dark curly hair, hastily tied in a bun, fell on her face when she lowered her head to examine him.
“I’m in shock and pain right now, Constance. But why were you and Frank late?” Alistair asked, gazing at the officer.
“We got here as fast as we could, but the traffic at this time of the year is shit, even when we used the siren,” Constance said, referring to the masses of people driving into town for their Christmas shopping.
“Where are you hurt?” I searched Alistair’s eyes. I was not ready to lose him. I needed him alive.
“Do you have faith in me?” he asked, attempting to grin before wincing in pain.
“Yes, I do, Scotty,” I answered, squeezing his hand.
“Alistair, can you show me where the pain is?” Constance asked.
He pointed at his lower chest and nodded at me as I began to unbutton his shirt. Why wasn’t he bleeding where the bullet tore through his shirt?
“My God.”
A concealed vest revealed itself to me after I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed the fabric aside. The bullet lodged itself in the vest, which hugged his slim frame.
“That shot knocked the wind out of me,” Alistair rasped as he glanced down at the impact.
One of the officers helped me peel off his shirt and ease the vest away. Alistair winced, but he stayed upright.
“I’ll live,” he said, flashing me a strained grin. “But I’ll be wearing one hell of a bruise.”
“How did you even know you’d need this?” I asked, staring at the vest, my pulse still racing.
His fingers closed around mine, steady despite the tremor. “I wasn’t about to take chances.”
“You amaze me.” I wiped the tears from my eyes, my heart climbing back from the pit.
“Yeah, I’m pretty proud of myself,” Alistair murmured, wincing but grinning. “This vest’s the kind security forces swear by. Costs a fortune, but you barely know it’s there.”
I smothered him with kisses—his forehead, his cheek, his jaw, his lips—each one a thankful prayer. “Thank God you’ll be okay. You have no idea how much I love you.”
“I think I do.” His green eyes sparked with mischief, that cheeky half-grin curving his mouth before it melted into a low, quiet chuckle.
“I will never doubt you love me,” I swore, my voice breaking.
“We live for love,” Alistair whispered. His smile lingered as his eyes slid shut, clinging to my words like they were the only thing keeping him tethered.
“Alistair, we need to move you now. We need to check for blunt force trauma, possible rib fractures,” Constance said as two paramedics rushed in with a stretcher.
“Can I come with him?” I asked quickly. Alistair gave the faintest nod before the officer answered.
“Ma’am, you can ride with us.”
“Everything will be fine, right?” My eyes searched Constance’s face, needing the reassurance.
“You’re fine. Both of you are safe.” She squeezed my hand.
I nodded as relief settled in my chest. We were in good hands.
Alistair
Christmas Day
“Can you manage to sit up?” Vera asked, adjusting the pillows on my divan.
“Sure,” I said, watching my family tear open their Christmas presents, laughter filling the room. I adjusted my new wristband—a gift from Vera. Cool steel pressed against my skin, the words “I love you” embossed in Morse code. I traced the dots and dashes with my thumb, the secret message beating quietly beside my pulse.
My chest was mottled with bruises, and my ribs ached with every shallow breath. They would heal. Most things did. Would I put my life at risk for my woman again? Without a doubt. Vera was worth dying for. More importantly, she was worth living for. Regardless of past scars, I owed it to myself, and to her, to make the most of what came next.
“My mom called. She wished us a Merry Christmas,” Vera chirped, throwing a grin my way.
“Is she enjoying her new yacht in Monaco?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“Heck, yeah. She and her new boyfriend are having the time of their lives. She told me to thank you again. Guess you’re unforgettable.”
“There’s no need to thank me. Are you happy with your present?”
“Are you kidding me? I love strays.” Vera’s eyes shone as she stroked her tricolored cat, who purred and kneaded her lap, eyes contentedly closed. “Mimi is gorgeous. Thank you for rescuing her.”
Seeing Vera this happy, I couldn’t help but smile. This—right here—was all I ever wanted.
“We’ll take the little lady with us wherever we go. She’ll be treated like a queen,” I promised, giving Mimi a little scratch under her chin. The cat opened her yellow eyes, hopped off Vera’s lap, and padded to her food bowl.
“How’s your present?” I asked Damian as he pulled off his virtual reality headset, his hair sticking up in all directions. My teenage son stood as tall as Vera now and was still growing.
“It’s cool,” he said, grinning as he handed the headset to her. “Do you want to try it out?”
“Sure.” She slipped it on, giggling as she adjusted the strap. “Whoa. This is incredible.”
I watched her reach out, as if trying to touch something only she could see.
Damian smirked, rolling his eyes in mock impatience, then thanked Julian and Sapphire for their gift—a hoodie from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
“Am I invited to the summer wedding?” I teased Julian as Sapphire admired the diamond flashing on her finger. In true Julian style, he’d flown her to New York and dropped to one knee at the Temple of Dendur inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Classic, over-the-top, and unforgettable.
“You’re my best man,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. He was hopelessly in love with Sapphire, who leaned in and kissed his cheek.
“Can I come to the bachelor party?” Damian piped up. “I’m a teen now.”
“No.” Vera and I shut him down in unison.
“You’re way too young. Absolutely not, son.” I shot him a scowl.
“C’mon, Dad. Some of my friends already have girlfriends,” he protested.
“Are you old enough to go to college and earn a living?” Vera countered.
“Nope.”
“There’s your answer.”
“Alright, Mom,” he muttered, sulking just enough to make her laugh.
Saph grinned at Vera, who gave a knowing nod as if they were sharing some secret code.
Speaking of secrets, Bianca’s team tracked down the journalist Saira used to smear Vera’s name. Vera wasted no time in filing a defamation suit against the reporter and the newspaper. She had help from Bianca, who used her connections with the national journalists’ alliance. Both the journalist and editor were expelled, disgraced, and forced to issue a public apology.
Erin’s fate was sealed. She’d face trial for murdering Holly, attempting to kill Vera, and injuring me. Soon, she’d join Saira behind bars. Oliver filed for divorce after learning Erin had been slipping laxatives into his food and drinks. He called me this morning, wished me a Merry Christmas. It was the first time in years our voices hadn’t bristled with tension.
“I was wrong about Vera,” he admitted. “She’s the kind of woman I should have married.”
“You’ll meet a woman who teaches you what real love feels like,” I told him. “How’s Camilla?”
“She’s wonderful. We spent Christmas with Mom and Dad today,” he said, his voice softening. “It was quiet this year, but it felt good. Camilla lit up the whole room. We’ll all come by tomorrow morning.”
“Wonderful. I look forward to it.”
“Scotty?”
“Yeah?”
“Camilla said her first word this morning.”
“Yeah, is that so?”
“She said, ‘Daddy.’ I never thought…”
“Those words are fitting, Ollie. You’re a great dad. Promise me you’ll always love her, will you?”
“She’s loved, Scotty. We’ll talk tomorrow. Goodbye.”
“Bye, Ollie.”
I wondered, what tipped Erin over the edge? Was it insanity, vanity, or stupidity? Perhaps it was all three. For all her charm, Erin was a compulsive liar with delusions of grandeur through to her soul’s core. She was evil.
As for Saira, I requested that the correctional facility keep a close eye on her. Even from behind bars, she was a master puppeteer who could control people and drive them mad to commit the most heinous crimes. The Quinn empire, comprising big tech, real estate, and oil services, underwent a change of guard; she was no longer on the board of directors. I stacked it with my people over the past twelve months. The final replacement for her seat was already in motion—a reclusive expatriate based in Tokyo.
On paper, his name was F. Lazarus. He’d done a phenomenal job expanding one of my projects in Japan, loyal, discreet, and efficient. With him in place, I held the keys to Lester Harbor.
Then came the call. A private investigator’s voice delivered the kind of revelation that knocks the ground out from under you. When the line went dead, I sat frozen, staring at the wall as the weight of the news pressed in.
“Scotty?” Vera’s voice cut through, soft but worried. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I swallowed hard. “Do you remember when I told you Saira’s brother died in a boating accident years ago?”
“Yes. What’s going on?”
“Nick Quinn is alive.”
ORION AND ARTEMIS
Vera
Tokyo, four months later
“F. Lazarus. I should’ve known.”
Alistair’s green eyes locked on the man stepping out of the elevator onto Tokyo Tower’s top-deck observatory. Sleek, stylish, and perfectly at ease, he carried himself like someone who knew the entire city was watching.
Light-blond hair fell across steel-gray eyes until he brushed it back with the same casual arrogance he used to dust the cuffs of his tailored jacket. Then he grinned.
“Scotty. How have you been?”
Alistair dragged a hand through his halo of curls. He was dressed down—T-shirt, jeans, leather jacket—but the smirk tugging at his mouth was pure delight. “Nicholas Fionn Quinn. How does it feel to be back from the dead?”
“I feel very much alive,” the man said, voice dripping with charm. He tugged off black leather gloves, clasped Alistair’s shoulders, and pulled him into a hug that was more claim than greeting.
“I should’ve known it was you. F. Lazarus. Fionn, huh?” Alistair beamed pure energy.
Fionn. I once stole Julian’s book on Irish folklore and remembered that name. It meant “fair-headed” and “handsome.” In Irish mythology, Fionn was a renowned warrior who protected the High King. The name suited him.
“Nicholas Quinn?” I stepped forward, extending my hand. “I’m Vera Richland.”
He shook it with eager enthusiasm, his smile as sharp as it was magnetic. “Nick. You can call me Nick.” He looked over to Alistair. “Never thought I’d see the day you ended up with a good woman.”
Alistair’s lashes lowered as he looked at me. “I’m in love.”
Nick took both my hands, grinning. “Ah, Vera. You’re the one who put my sister in prison.”
“I could say I’m sorry about it, but I’m not,” I admitted, glancing at Alistair. “It was teamwork.”
Nick’s eyes relaxed as his lips parted, revealing pristine teeth. “I’m not sorry either. I should thank you. I never thought Saira would lose control over, well, everything.”
“We all thought you were dead, Nick,” Alistair said.
“I wasn’t on the boat when it exploded off the Italian coast.”
“What happened?”
“I slept in that morning,” Nick admitted sheepishly, then cleared his throat.
“Why didn’t you admit you were alive?” I asked.
Nick remained silent for a few seconds, his smile fading.
“At first, I was in shock,” he said. “After the explosion, once the smoke cleared, the fear set in. It stayed with me, gnawing at me. I was certain Saira would find a way to finish me off.”
Noticing his hands tremble, I placed my hand on his. “Saira was a monster to all of us.”
He nodded, the muscles in his cheek twitching as if the memory still lived under his skin. “My own sister wanted me wiped off the map. She inherited the syndicate that carried out my father’s dirtiest work, and their loyalty now belongs to her. What I felt wasn’t just dread. It was terror carved into my bones.”
“I’m sorry for your trauma,” Alistair consoled. “I get it, why you went into hiding. Dealing with her was a bloody nightmare. Fuck.”
Nick gave a faint smile. “On the bright side, Tokyo’s been good to me. I started from nothing, caught a few lucky breaks, and built something of my own.”
Alistair’s mouth curved, eyes warm with memory. “You always had a gift, turning thin air into gold.”
I moved closer to Nick. “Scotty says you drove the final nail in Saira’s coffin. That you helped him cut her out of the business.”
His expression flickered, a shadow beneath the smile. “I had to move so quietly that not even the left hand,” he nodded at Alistair, “knew what the right was doing.” He glanced down, studying his right hand as it tightened around the gloves he still held.
“Jesus, Nick. That’s how Saira plays her games,” I said.
“She only perfected what our father drilled into us.” His nostrils flared, high cheekbones tightening as if the memory still stung. He shifted, gesturing us toward the glass. “Come. See the city.”
Alistair shook his head and laughed. “You know I’m not fond of heights.”
“It’s worth seeing, Scotty,” Nick said, staring at the city’s endless lights under the darkening sky.
“Tokyo looks like Legoland on speed.” Alistair chuckled.
The two men stood together, tall and confident, undefeated despite life’s challenges. Nick was the first to break the comfortable silence among friends. “I’ve grown accustomed to the Japanese culture over the years.”
“Do you speak Japanese?” I asked.
Nick’s grin widened. “Sukoshi dake. Anata wa boku no ichiban no riyū ni naru.”
Alistair arched a brow. “Translation: he just said you’d be his number one reason to stay here.”
Nick caught my hand and brushed his lips across my knuckles, eyes holding mine longer than polite. “I look forward to getting to know you.”
Alistair slipped an arm around my waist, his voice playful but edged. “Hey. I’m done with sharing.”
“Monogamy, eh? Fair enough.” Nick’s smile faded into something wistful. “On another note, how’s Alicia?”
Alistair’s face hardened, his jaw cutting sharp under the lights. “That’s why I’m here.”
Nick’s brow rose. “Oh?”
I turned from the window, Tokyo glittering like a galaxy behind us. “You need to return to Lester Harbor. You have a son who needs his father.”
Nick froze. Color drained from his face as he stepped back, his voice hollow. “I have a son?”
Alistair and I exchanged a look before I spoke. “We met your ex. She isn’t hiding from Saira anymore. And her boy is your mirror image.”
Nick’s throat worked. “Are you certain he’s mine?”
We both nodded.
“The queen is dead. Come home,” Alistair urged.
“Long live the king.” Nick clapped a hand on Alistair’s shoulder.
“And our new queen,” Alistair added, nodding toward me. “Vera and I are moving to Dubai. We need someone we trust to keep Lester Harbor in line.”
Nick let out a low chuckle. “So I’m back in charge of the Quinn family business.” His grin sharpened. “I also heard you’re selling The Church.”
Alistair’s expression was calm, but final. “I don’t have the time for it anymore. Are you interested?”
Nick’s eyes glinted, calculation written all over his face. “Considering it’s a cash cow? Yes. Very interested.”
I sighed, gazing at the neat garden outside our luxury townhouse hotel, a former Geisha house. The tea our butler prepared before leaving had an instant calming effect when I sipped it. The sweet, rich aroma lingered in my mouth for a while before fading away.
“Vera?” Alistair’s deep voice rumbled from behind me as I felt his lips touch the smooth curve of my neck.
“Can you believe Julian and Saph are getting married in less than two months?”
“Mmm, I’m thrilled for them,” Alistair murmured.
I breathed in his musk, feeling my heat rise. For him. Only him. His fingers traced the silk of my kimono-style gown, then untied the belt, letting the garment slip from my body. “Do you want to know something, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Tell me.” I turned to face my lover. He reminded me of a Spartan warrior, lean and muscular in his naked glory. Fresh from a shower, his fresh scent spiced the cool night air.
“I first saw you in a Lester Harbor Daily photo before we met,” he confessed. “I may as well have been Orion, a night hunter captured by your Mona Lisa smile.”
“There was the moment I walked into The Church with—”
“The two buffoons? Those playthings of yours?” Alistair laughed. “I asked Angelique to distract them from you.”
“I wasn’t ready to be played,” I admitted. “Still, you played me.”
“It takes a player to know a player,” he teased. His eyes craved mine with deep, passionate hunger as his brows furrowed. Then, slowly, he got down on one knee. “You are my Artemis. You’re the goddess of the moon, the hunt, and my heart. Vera Kathryn Richland, will you marry me?”
“Alistair!” I gasped as my eyes widened at the sight of an embossed Tiffany velvet box in his hand.
He flipped the lid open, revealing the sparkle of a brilliant round diamond at the center, gracefully woven in an eighteen-karat gold rope design. “Put it on,” he said.
Tears blurred the city lights as joy surged through me, too fierce to hold back. “Scotty, I’ve wanted to say yes for so long. I love you, and I’ll marry you.” I pulled him to me, sealing the promise with a fierce kiss, his lips warm and soft against mine, the taste of him flooding through me like home.
“I’ll never stop loving you, for as long as I breathe,” he vowed. He slipped the ring from its velvet nest and guided it onto my finger. It slid into place perfectly.
“How did you know my ring size?” I asked.
“I may have borrowed one of your rings,” he admitted, grinning sheepishly.
“We can call our families tomorrow to tell them about the wonderful news before we tell Bianca,” I gushed like a schoolgirl. “We promised her…”
“Don’t think about them tonight. Right now, it’s about us.”
Alistair set the heavy briefcase on the floor, snapped it open, and unfolded it into a bondage board.
“Oh, Daddy,” I flirted, now dressed in a sexy schoolgirl costume… a tight, white collared shirt, a tartan miniskirt, and a pair of white knee-high socks. “I’ve been naughty again. Will you spank me?”
“No.” Alistair sighed, gazing at my long legs. “I’m not taking the lead tonight.”
“But…”
“Dominate me tonight. That’s my gift to you.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, remembering the trauma he survived in his youth.
He handed me a bamboo cane with a leather handle. “I trust you to take good care of me.”
I raised one eyebrow as he pursed his lips and nodded. “Get down on your hands and knees,” I ordered.
He climbed onto the board without hesitation. I fastened the straps at his wrists and ankles, adjusting each one until it held but didn’t bite. My fingers lingered a moment on his skin, a silent check that he was steady, and that the control was mine now.
“Have you been a good boy?” I asked, my fingers fisting in his hair.
“Yes, ma’am,” Alistair answered, his grin daring me.
“Not good enough.” I dragged the cane across his ass before striking, the crack sharp, precise. “It’s Mistress to you, dirty boy.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he corrected quickly.
“Good.” I let the cane hover against his skin. “Now, do you know why you’re being punished?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
The cane smacked across him again, reddening his skin. “Tell me,” I demanded.
“Because I’ve been spying on you in the shower,” he groaned.
I traced the cane along his thighs, making him squirm. “And what do you do while you watch me?”
His grin flashed, wicked. “I get myself off.”
Another strike landed, his body jerking. “Fucking hell.”
“Address me properly, or this ends now.”
“No, please.” His voice cracked with need. “Please don’t stop, Mistress.”
“You’ve been very naughty,” I taunted, circling him as sweat slid down his temples. “Jerking that big cock while you watched me.” I twirled a plait around my finger, then hiked my skirt, baring the smooth heat between my thighs.
“Goddamn,” Alistair groaned, straining against the restraints. “You’re such a tease. I’ll be good—I swear.”
I tapped the cane across the back of his thighs, testing the skin before snapping a light blow that made him flinch. His cry bled into a moan.
“I don’t want you good,” I murmured, yanking his head back by the hair so he had to look at me. “I want you filthy. I want you shameless. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Better.” I dragged the cane along his spine, then tossed it aside. “I’m going to release you. You’ll give me pleasure and make me come hard. You’ll fuck me until I can’t speak. Do you understand?”
His eyes were dark with hunger. “Hell, yeah. I’ll pound my big cock into you until you scream yourself hoarse.”
I unshackled the restraints but didn’t let him move far. I climbed on top and lowered myself over him, sliding down onto his hard cock. My tight, wet heat took him fully, making his breath break in a groan.
“I love it when you straddle me,” he said, smirking up at me, his gaze fixed on the dark points of my nipples beneath the see-through blouse. His hands clamped on my ass, urging me into the rhythm he set.
I smiled, slowly undoing each button of the blouse until it fell open and my breasts spilled free. His hips jerked beneath me, cock driving deeper as he groaned at the sight.
I traced my hands over my curves, cupping the swell of my breasts, teasing myself while I rode him. “You are a dirty boy, aren’t you?” I taunted, grinding down.
“The dirtiest of them all,” he growled. “Lean forward more so I can lick your tasty tits.”
“No. I’m in control here,” I responded, gently squeezing the base of his cock.
“Please, Mistress?”
“Promise me you won’t be a bratty boy,” I demanded, arching my back. I rode harder, increasing our tempo.
“It’s a promise.” His angelic eyes locked onto mine, unrelenting, making my heart stutter as his length drove deep inside me.
“That’s it,” he rasped, voice rough with desire. “You know how to ride me.”
I sped the pace, grinding harder, faster, chasing every sound he gave me. His low grunts vibrated against my breast as I leaned forward, skin touching skin. His scent wrapped around me, masculine and intoxicating, as I closed my eyes and let my body take over.
“You’re fucking incredible,” he groaned as I lifted slightly. His mouth closed over my nipple, tongue circling until I gasped and bucked against him.
“Alistair, you’re driving me insane,” I panted, the pleasure sharp and relentless. His thrusts matched my rhythm, deeper, harder, until sparks shot through me. My body seized, shuddering as the climax ripped down my spine and tore me apart.
“Come in me,” I cried, his name spilling from my lips again and again until I couldn’t breathe.
“I’m coming,” he growled, hands clamping on my hips as he jerked upward, his body convulsing beneath me, pulsing deep inside as release overtook him.
My thighs quivered, muscles trembling as my sex clenched around him, drawing every last pulse from his cock. Heat spread through me in sharp waves, tingling down to my toes. Tears slipped free before I could stop them, the release too intense, too much.
When Alistair finally withdrew, my body ached with emptiness, already desperate to take him again. The craving was deeper than lust. It was the undeniable truth that we belonged to each other.
I rubbed my face into the warm curls on Alistair’s chest, breathing in his aroma. He had removed my skirt and blouse, leaving me in only a pair of knee-high socks. I clasped my fingers around his strong wrist, feeling the soft, fine hairs coating his skin.
Alistair’s gaze burned into mine, unwavering. “I want you. Only you. No one else.”
“You’re all I need, Scotty,” I whispered, my lips brushing his. “You know I love you.”
He smiled, fingers combing through my tangled, sweat-damp hair. Alistair was a contradiction I couldn’t get enough of: rough and possessive, yet fiercely protective and achingly tender. No amount of money in the world could buy what we’d built together: trust, honesty, faith, and hope. With him, there was no space for fear. Only safety. Only love.
But secrets? Those were another matter. Would I confess to Saph that Alistair was Mister Z?
Some secrets are best kept a mystery.
I am, after all, a master of secrets and a slave to none.
