Permanent Marker (24 page)

Dasha stepped closer. When her stare locked with Rose’s this time, it was full of undeniable intent. “You go make my dad happy, Rose.
Please
make him happy. It’s been so long for him, and it’s all I want for him.”

She looked at Dasha, at the conviction and confidence in her eyes, and this time, she knew what fate had done for her. Perhaps just this once, the clock was getting turned back. Here it was. The second chance. The extension on the alarm. Did she have the courage to bound out of bed this time? Did she have the guts to wake up, to open up, to love as her body, soul, and heart yearned to?

Dasha didn’t give her any grace period to change her mind. The young woman was already on her cell and punching in a speed dial number.

“Dad? Where are you? Well, stop right there. You…ummm…forgot something.” She punched the line shut. “VIP holding area for the limos, end of the tarmac. Go get him, Rose. Now!”

* * * *

She saw him even through her tears.

The experience was better and worse than she expected.

All the fears came rushing back, and more. What the hell was she doing? How on earth did her feet keep carrying her forward when they felt made of terror and ice? But then he pivoted just a little, and she beheld his beautiful, noble profile again. He took her breath away even from forty yards away. The longing came then, pulling her toward him like a lifeline. And then the desire, so magnificent, blowing her from behind like a sweet sea wind.

And the love, consuming her everywhere. A miracle. A gift.

She kept going. He kept her going. She was almost there—

She was brought up short by a very large arm. It was encased in a very black suit, which happened to be the same color as the guy’s sunglasses, crew cut, and grimace.

“Uh, hi.” She tried a friendly smile. Mr. Personality didn’t flinch. “I’d like to speak with Senator Moore, please.”

The guy’s head tilted a little, scanning her fast. Her first inclination was to dive straight for insecurity again. But damn it, she’d overcome way too much—namely, her own shitty psyche—to let
this
goon stop her from getting to her Master!

“Special security holding area, ma’am.” The guy’s monotone was so cliché he must’ve rehearsed it. “We’re sorry, but nobody in or out except the assigned VIPs and immediate family or staff.”

She took a deep breath. Then looked him in the glasses, which she hoped led to his eyes, and set her chin. “I’m his fiancée.”

The agent cocked his head. He was either part Collie or he didn’t believe her.

“Fine, then. I might be carrying his baby.
Immediate
enough for you?”

With a grunt, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Asshole finally let her through.

As she stumbled into the exclusive area, Mark turned. He blinked hard, then strode forward, his eyes wide.

“Rose.” It was a harsh grate. “Ah hell. Are
you
what Dasha was—”

“Yes, Sir.”

Without another word, he opened his arms. She didn’t remember the steps she took to get to him. Perhaps she flew. It would’ve made sense, with how high her heart soared. His chest was solid and warm as he crushed her close, desperately kissing her nape, her cheeks, then her lips.

“My love.” She dampened his shirt with her tears. “My Sir. I needed—”

“I know. It’s okay. And I’m here, pet. You know I’ll always be here for you.”

“As I’ll always be here for you.”

That’s when he started to get it. His breath caught. He shifted his hold, tilting her face back so he could probe her with his dark gold gaze. “What are you saying, Rose?”

“I’m saying…I’ve been stupid. And you’re right. This is a gift. Our gift. And I want to fight for it. For you.” She ran a thumb over his cheek and beard. “I don’t want to listen to the past anymore. I don’t want to run anymore.” Her chest clutched in fear again, but she got the next words out too. “I…I’m going to reapply for a Stateside position. I can be of good use to the project right here, and I figure we can make some trips to the site together as well. You…you can teach me more. About all of it.” When he reacted with thick silence, self-doubt immediately nicked at her. “Oh shit. I mean that’s only if you still want me here?”

A harsh sound rumbled from his chest. “You’d better shut up and kiss me again, pet.”

After she pressed her lips to his, a smile bloomed across them—which suddenly dipped into a confused frown. “How did you get back here? They always lock me up like a damn zoo tiger.”

“Oh yeah…that.” She cocked her head and gave him a sheepish grimace. “I sort of told them…we’re engaged.”

Her anxiety about his reaction got drowned by his jubilant laugh. He cut it short long enough to wrap his hand around the back of her head, crashing her lips hard to his again.

“Well,” he finally said, letting her up for air. “That’s one good way to get the job done.”

Epilogue

A late-afternoon breeze stirred from the surface of Lake Michigan, cooling the September day as Rose adjusted her wedding veil. She looked around the sumptuous bedroom of Mimi Marston’s Evanston mansion, which was now in chaos, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“What is it, sweetikins?” The gentle query came from Mimi herself, a stunning blonde dressed in a mint-green St. John sheath that put women half her age to shame. Mimi was an eccentric for sure, but had become one of Rose’s favorite people after she and Mark had gone public in a well-orchestrated
Oprah
interview. “Is everything all right?” the woman added.

Rose nodded. “Everything’s fine. I just can’t believe that last week Mark and I were in Baghdad, doing a check on the project and playing soccer in the street with a bunch of kids. Now we’re here and…I’m just…”

“It’s all right, Rosalind,” Mimi filled in when she broke off. “Go ahead, say it. You’re deliriously fucking happy.” The woman giggled and shook her head. “Listen, sugar cake. We’ve all made our plays for Mark through the years. And we all knew he was being damn picky. It was just our fondest hope that he end up with someone who didn’t grab him by the balls, throw the wool over his eyes, and take him for a ride on the gold-digger train. We’re all so glad he’s found you. Make him delirious in return, and you don’t have a problem here.”

Her heart filled with warmth, and she gave Mimi as much a hug as her Vera Wang gown would allow. She had the designer give the dress several Victorian touches such as a classic corset bodice and a subtle little bustle, knowing they’d bring a smile to Mark’s face. He’d only been specific about one aspect of her look for today, and in direct obedience, she’d had her hair styled loose and wavy over her bare shoulders.

“Thank you so much, Mimi. I’m going to try. And thank you for the use of the house and the lawn…and for everything. I couldn’t have planned even half of this on my own.”

“Awww, sweetie. This has been more fun than throwing together Amber Preston’s fortieth in Atlantic City. And believe me,
that
was fun!”

Their shared laughter over that was interrupted by male footsteps on the patio outside. Dante Tieri’s distinct baritone followed. “Knock, knock. Rose? You in there? I believe it’s time for you to redomesticate my best friend, darling.”

“Come in, Mr. Tieri.” Mimi chimed it as she dashed a quick look at herself in the vanity mirror. “All of us girls are decent…but some of us are happy to change that status for you, sweet cake.”

Dante chuckled and flashed his flawless signature smile. “Why don’t we all make it to the reception first, Ms. Marston.”

“Yes, Sir.” The woman’s eyes dropped demurely. Rose bit back another giggle. Mimi Marston, a closet kinkster? One could never tell what lay beneath people and their shells. She just knew it felt wonderful to be out from beneath hers, set free from fear, about to be joined with the man who had made it all possible.

Dante pulled her out of her reverie, looking around the room with curiosity. “Your mother and your brother aren’t here?”

Rose picked up her bouquet, a simple arrangement of burgundy and white roses. “They’re seated already.” She shrugged at the twinge of sadness in the man’s gaze. “It’s all right, really. They’ve both had a lot to adjust to since April. They’ll either get used to it, or they won’t.” A little laugh sneaked up on her. “Maybe we should’ve given in to their special request of inviting Tristan Rhodes. Guess Mother would be in a better mood then.”

“Really?” Dante’s sarcastic snort had her doing a double take. When Rose impaled him with a questioning stare, he glanced away and muttered, “Not sure Rhodes would be coming for the company of your
mother
, darling.”

The string quartet on the lawn began a new tune, bumping their volume with it. As the lush strains of Bach filled the air, the small crowd of guests rose from their seats.

It was time.

Her knees wobbled beneath her. She gripped Dante tighter with each step they took. For the first time today, true apprehension filled her. She caught sight of Mother and Shane, their faces etched in forced propriety. There were some other similar faces, from that other day when she’d expected to have a wedding ring on her finger within the hour. What if she turned the corner, and the altar in front of her was empty again? What if Mark had decided she really wasn’t worth his patience, his dominance, his love? What if her heart was about to endure five hundred times the damage Owen had ever dealt it?

You don’t belong here. This shouldn’t be happening. This is too good to be true, you know. The fairy tale is about to—

Begin.

She gazed down the aisle, and there he was. Tall. Smiling. Proud. Breathtaking.

His Marine Corps dress blues framed his form perfectly, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the muscles that rivaled men half his age. He straightened when she turned onto the white carpet strewn with burgundy rose petals, nodding when David Pennington, his best man, leaned and murmured something to him. Standing on the other side of the gazebo was Dasha, who’d joyously agreed to be her maid of honor. They’d quickly become friends over the last few months with Dasha lending her star power to Rose’s events for Iraqi children, and Rose returning the favor by volunteering at the Chicago branch of the American Cancer Society.

For now, the pop star provided a steady soundtrack of tears as she and Mark traded their traditional vows, rings, and a searing kiss for luck that had Rose wondering how soon she could start that “luck” in their honeymoon suite at the Peninsula Hotel. Unfortunately, a little over a hundred guests wandered across the grass to wait for them beneath a twinkle-lighted canopy, now glowing even brighter as the sun started to dip beyond the water.

Rose sighed and looked up at her husband as the photographer declared he was finished with their postceremony shots. “On to phase two?” she asked.

Mark’s eyes burned with dark gold intent. This heat was different than his intensity during the ceremony, when she’d felt like he burned each vow into her as he spoke it. “Not yet,” he whispered, clutching her hand. “Come walk with me. There’s something else we need to discuss.”

Rose gulped down her trepidation. Shit; what was making him so serious? As they stopped at the edge of the lawn, now drenched in deep orange light from the sunset, she attempted a little laugh.

“Uh, Senator Moore? You do know that prenups are usually signed
before
the wedding?”

He robbed the words from her lips by yanking her close and smashing his mouth to hers. This kiss was much different than the sexy, make-out smooch he’d just given as her new husband. This was a possession, a raw command of her Dom, and she whimpered in fierce need as she let him take whatever he wanted from her.

“I love you so much.” He growled it against her lips, when he finally pulled away.

“As I love you.” Rose sighed it.

He pulled up her left hand, kissing the finger that now held her goose-egg-sized wedding ring. “Rose…you know this is only half of belonging to me, right?”

She obediently dropped her lashes as soon as that distinct timbre entered his voice: the tone that told her he’d shifted completely into Dominant mode. She replied quietly, “Yes, Sir.”

“Then you’ll also wear this for me.”

She lifted her gaze.

Then gasped.

“Oh.” She ran her finger along the baguette diamonds that were encrusted into the shiny white leather collar. Between each jewel, the leather itself was embossed and then hand-painted with an exquisite burgundy rose. The choker locked at the back with a pure gold lock. Mark held the key with gentle care, a symbol of the same way he looked after her heart every day.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It means forever.” His voice was solemn. “Do you understand, Rose?” He tilted her face up with a finger beneath her chin. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, unable to hold back the tears anymore. They spilled and flowed as he kissed her again, locking the collar around her neck as he did. When he was done, his eyes filled with depths of golden adoration, she smiled and whispered the words that sang out from every depth of her soul, filling her with a joy she’d never imagined possible.

“I love you, my Sir. My Master. My Husband.”

“In permanent marker?”

She laughed and kissed him again. “Yes. Oh, yes.”