Chapter 43

The song I chose for Jake fills the room, enveloping us as we sway. We’re still wrapped up in each other, our eyes locked. The happiness between us is infectious, and I don’t think either of us has stopped smiling since his dance-floor proposal an hour ago. I am experiencing joy beyond all bounds.

I wanted to respond to his song. After all, it was our tradition. In a grand gesture to match his, the DJ was more than happy to oblige when the orchestra finally took their leave. Ella Henderson’s “Yours” plays beautifully across the room, expressing everything I want to say right now.

He guides me around the dance floor for the hundredth time, his arms wrapped around me. I’m smiling like crazy, feeling like I could die from contentment. People congratulated us throughout the meal, and neither of us has managed to stop touching the other. We’re smiling brightly, with eyes only for each other.

I can’t stop glancing at my hand over his broad shoulder, at the understated, delicate diamond ring. It shows me he’d thought about what I would like. It’s not showy, but vintage and perfectly me. He chose something I would’ve chosen for myself, elegant and meaningful, rather than a display of wealth. Jake knows me better than I think he gives himself credit for.

Sarah appeared and showered me with kisses and tears as soon as I had that ring on my finger. She’s now swaying with Marcus, feet away on the floor, looking merry, drunk, and very much like a girl in love. Marcus looks quite groomed and a little different, his eyes aglow with infatuation for Sarah. It’s evident on the face of a man I’ve never warmed to.

Maybe I’ve always been too harsh on him. Seeing them together with new eyes, the love evident between them, and the way they seem to fit so effortlessly together, like Jake and I do, but in their own way.

I can’t help but look back at the man of my dreams and take in every part of his face. Someone has his attention to the left of me, and he’s smiling and answering with an amused, furrowed brow. His low sultry voice always makes my blood pump faster. His arms are around my waist tightly, mine around his neck. His bow tie is now undone and hanging loose at each side of his collar.

The jacket is gone, and his shirt is open at the top. He looks exactly like he should, casually sexy and a little rough around the edges, yet confidently tailored to perfection even when his tie is discarded. The boyish bad boy Carrero always dominates every part of him, and it’s exactly who I always want him to be.

The night is a blur of smiles, giddiness, and floaty memories of people I know hugging me and lots of kissing. Jake has kissed my lipstick off until my cheeks are permanently blushed and my mouth puffy. Yet that doesn’t seem to stave off the craving to kiss me more, not that I’m complaining.

Kissing Jake is my all-time favorite thing in the world. That seductive mouth locked onto mine, bringing our hearts together as one. No one makes me feel like he does with something so simple as a gentle brush of lips. Just his proximity to me, eyes locked and noses touching, makes every part of me surrender to his will.

Jake stops talking to whoever has his attention and turns back to give it all to me. Another kiss and soft grazing of noses make my body tingle for him. He knows no bounds when it comes to being tender and gentle with me, and I love that it’s a part of him reserved only for our unborn child and me.

The side of him that the world never sees and probably couldn’t associate with the ‘Playboy Carrero Casanova’ public figure that women still drool over. He was never that way with his endless meaningless women, never so touchy and adoring with them at all, and it only highlights what I mean to him.

“You thought I was going to say no, didn’t you? Even though we were technically engaged.” I sway with him, now completely relaxed, with so much heart-swelling love. Moving to the music emphasizes his powerful body, and he positions my feet to stand on the shoes of his toes so he can dance me around, reaching my lips a little better.

I feel like a child, but with his arms encircling me tightly, I don’t want to be anywhere else. He always has a way of making me feel protected and cared for, even if it’s just propping sunglasses on my face in bright light or taking off my shoes in the car home after a dance, or swirling me around on his feet so I can stand and relax as he takes control of my movements.

“The thought crossed my mind about a million times once we got here. I’m not going to lie; I started to panic that I was going about this the wrong way, Bambina.” He grimaces at the memory and leans down to kiss me again. His face is one of confidence, showing no hint of doubt now. Cameras flash nearby, but Jake is oblivious to the paparazzi’s attention. I, on the other hand, am still adjusting.

“I love you, Mr. Carrero. This was beyond perfect,” I smile lovingly.

The fireworks display lasted forty-five minutes and was beyond spectacular. After the emotion of the moment calmed down, we crowded outside in droves and saw the last half of the most magnificent fireworks display ever. Jake draped his jacket around me and held me in his arms for warmth while we watched in awed silence. He certainly supplied, as promised, ‘Fireworks and a floor show,’ and in true Jake Carrero style, it was go big or go home.

He smiles back.

“Mrs. Carrero … Emma Carrero. God, I love how that sounds.” He moves his forehead to mine and continues to drive our feet in time to the ballad. “I can’t imagine anything more perfect than this.” He brings a hand to my face and trails his fingertips across my bottom lip, oblivious to the flashes of cameras nearby going off repeatedly.

Unfortunately, the press appeared at some point. I’m not sure if they caught the moment he proposed, but they were here for the fireworks and seem to like the tender moments we were having a little too much.

We’re moving around, lost in each other’s eyes, when we become aware of a commotion behind us; raised voices and glass smashing. I turn to see what’s going on, and I’m completely unsurprised to see it coming from Daniel and Leila off to one side of the floor amid a group of gaping bystanders.

“Why are you here with him?” Daniel has Leila by the wrist, and she’s struggling to wrench it free; fiery fury latched onto fiery fury. Daniel looks poised and ready to beat someone with a death glare across that handsome face. His grip on Leila only accentuates how muscular he is.

I never really notice it when he’s with Jake since Jake is much broader. He is equally tall, with sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, and right now, he’s terrifying; aggression rippling through him the same way it seems to ignite Jake. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of them as a pair.

“Shit,” Jake mutters and lets me go, lifting me from his shoes and pulling me with him. He heads their way in a rather brisk fashion.

“It’s nothing to do with you who I date,” Leila spits back, eyes flaring at him from her much smaller height, arm wrenching and attempting to kick him with her killer pointed heels, just as Jake intervenes.

“Daniel, take this outside. Come on. It’s too public here, and the press is lurking because of my engagement.” Jake nods toward the men milling around with cameras, aiming this way. Jake keeps my hand in his and draws me closer to shield the pair from probing lenses. Daniel looks around as though realizing where we are, his face softens a little, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of heartache at the utter devastation on his face.

Kurt is lurking nearby, but even I can tell he knows he’s no match for Daniel Hunter, not in the slightest; that dominant alpha male thing that Jake exudes is a Hunter trait too.

Leila snatches her hand away and turns to Jake imploringly, raising her hands in complete frustration.

“There’s nothing to take outside … I’m. Not. Interested!” She throws her hands on her hips in defiance, but Daniel scoops her up in his arms in a flash, ignoring any attempts from her to refuse him, and turns on his heel to march out toward the pitch-black gardens with a look of sheer rage.

There’s a flash of cameras, and Jake grimaces and grabs my hand a little more firmly, pulling me to follow the bickering pair into the night air.

We stop a few times to thank well-wishers in passing as if it’s the most surreal thing ever. I can see Hunter’s back with a struggling pair of legs sticking out to one side. They disappear behind a swaying velvet curtain, and I am urged to follow them in a hurry.

“Put me down … NOW!” There’s an unmistakable yell as we step into the cooler night air and dim lights. Jake pulls the doors shut behind us, and a waiter inside instinctively draws the curtains.

I blink back at the movement and catch a tight look on Jake’s face. It makes me wonder if he issued the command for privacy.

Or perhaps the staff of this establishment is accustomed to safeguarding its high-profile clientele from the media. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to their intrusive presence.

Jake pulls me in front of him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. We’re now about seven feet away from the pair.

Leila sits as stiff and straight as she can in his hold. Her legs are taut and knees together, arms folded across her chest, staring straight ahead to avoid his glare.

It would be almost comical if it weren’t for the hopeless look on Hunter’s face as he gazes at the rigid little woman in his arms. I can see his love for her pouring out like a waterfall.

“Not until you tell me you’re going to break up with that asshole, Leila.” Daniel is beyond livid, speaking through gritted teeth and sounding like the jealous boyfriend.

I glance at Jake, aware of another similarity, and catch him smirking back at me. At least he knows it.