Alexis 2003
Greyson and I were heading to Ireland. I was going to see Callum and his home, the portrait gallery and the paintings I had studied the copies of, but first we were heading home. I hadn’t seen Paige and Grant since I graduated. They were worried about me after my call to them when I first learned about my parents. I was dealing. It had been five months and each day it hurt less. They wanted to visit, I had encouraged them to, but Grant insisted Greyson and I needed the time. We’d been apart for so long, the first few months should be just us. I was glad he insisted because those months had been the happiest of my life.
Greyson sat next to me on the plane sketching. I had yet to see that spiral ring from all those years ago, though I knew he still had it because I had seen it amongst his things when we unpacked his studio.
“Are you ever going to let me look at the spiral ring?”
Greyson looked up, but his mind was still on his sketch. His concentration shifted gears. “Which spiral ring?”
“The one you were constantly working in your senior year.”
He smiled then, a secret little smile. “Oh, that spiral ring.”
I waited for him to say more, but instead he grinned like a fool.
“Well?”
“I don’t know. That is my earlier work and there are many who would love to get their hands on it.”
What nonsense was that? “I’m not just anyone, pal.”
“True, but still. I’ve been instructed by my very competent legal team that I really shouldn’t let anyone outside of the family see it.”
I glared at him. “Really?”
He then stretched his long legs out in front of him—lucky for him we were in first class—and pulled his hands behind his head. “Yup.”
I just wanted to look at the damn book; you’d think he’d be a bit more accommodating.
“There is a way, though, Alexis.” He turned serious. “Marry me.”
I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly. Maybe the plane just nose-dived and the lack of oxygen was causing a hallucination.
“Alexis.” A grin pulled at his mouth. “You’re thinking you’re having an hallucination, aren’t you?”
“Are you serious?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather black box. He opened it to reveal an emerald-cut diamond, a huge emerald cut diamond. “Marry me.”
Some could argue we were rushing, but we weren’t. We’d been working toward this since that very first day. I wanted to remember every part of this moment so I could tell it to our kids and grandkids.
“Alexis?”
“You just asked me to marry you.”
“Yes, and you didn’t answer.”
Despite his words, he didn’t look overly worried, as sure of us as I was, so I teased him. “Do I get to look at the spiral ring?”
His expression went blank for a second before he howled with laughter. Love shined in his eyes. “Yes.”
I grabbed his face and kissed him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
For a second or two we silently acknowledged the beauty of the moment before he slipped his ring onto my finger.
Greyson
Alexis was sleeping, her hand in mine. I played with the ring on her finger. If she only knew how long I had been holding on to it. My first commission was used to buy it. I’d carried it around for six years knowing one day it would sit on her finger.
I wanted to paint her. Naked, looking at me like she had earlier when she said yes. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel having her body on display on our walls, but maybe for our bedroom she’d be okay with it.
I was looking forward to seeing Paige, Grant and the girls, was itching to see Ireland again and my grandfather. Wanted to share my home with Alexis, my past. I had my mother’s diary. Having watched Alexis at her own mother’s grave, I decided to give Mom’s diary to her. For a woman like Alexis, words had the most meaning. I wanted her to know my mom and how better than from her own writings. I’d find the right moment to give it to her.
I ran a finger over the stone. She’d said yes. I didn’t doubt it for a second. Pressing a kiss on her ring, I let myself follow her into sleep.
Alexis
Paige and Grant met us at the airport. The girls were spending the day with the Bakers. Now that Mel and Dee were retired they often watched the girls because they just adored them, and having no children of their own, they loved the opportunity to act like grandparents.
As soon as I saw Paige, I pulled from Greyson and ran to her. We hugged; tears fell freely. I heard Grant and Greyson saying hello but we were talking at once and though we understood everything the other said, the men were left scratching their heads. I didn’t even get to show off my ring. Paige’s eyes narrowed in on the sparkling rock on my finger. She stared at it a moment before she said, “Ah, what, oh, wow.” And then we were hugging again.
It wasn’t until we were settled at the diner, in the booth Greyson always sat in, that Paige took my hands from across the table and asked, “Talk to me about your parents?”
They say time heals all wounds, and I was healing, though I wasn’t sure if it was time or Greyson. I suspected the latter. “First, I have to say I’ve been very fortunate. I have you, Grant and the girls, the Cantenellis, Mel and Dee…” I glanced to my side. “Greyson.” Love looked back. Turning to Paige I added, “I had a very full and happy childhood, but I’m still struggling with my mom’s death.” Just talking about it caused a lump in my throat. “But I hurt less knowing they loved me.”
“Of course they loved you. How could they not?” Paige wiped at her eyes.
“You’re biased.” And I loved that she was.
“Maybe, but she isn’t wrong,” Grant added.
I was so lucky I found them, but I needed to change the subject before I started crying. “How does it feel being diner owners?”
Paige squeezed my hands before releasing them and settled back in the booth. “Amazing because I don’t have to wait tables anymore.”
“You still do though, don’t you?”
She flashed me a grin. Yeah, she did.
“How’s the motorcycle business?”
“It’s thriving; there’s been a resurgence of interest in owning motorcycles. What about you, Greyson? I have to say it’s a little weird sitting across from the kid I knew now a man who has appeared on the cover of magazines. Did Mark Hamill really buy one of your paintings?”
“Wait! What? Why didn’t I know that?” I turned in my seat to face Greyson. “Luke Skywalker bought one of your paintings?”
“Yes. I’m surprised that story is out already. I just signed the deal a few days ago and he only confirmed last night. I was waiting for it to be a done deal before I mentioned it.” Greyson turned back to Grant. “How did you hear about it?”
“We have a resident Greyson groupie. Stephanie Peck. Do you remember her?” Paige asked.
Greyson and I both had the same reaction as we mouthed an O. Stephanie was his first groupie.
“What’s she doing now?”
“Besides tracking Greyson’s every move? She runs the florist.”
“Is she married?”
“No, I think she’s holding out for Greyson,” Paige teased as her gaze lowered to my ring. “She’s going to be very disappointed when word of that gets around.”
That was mildly unnerving that Stephanie had held a torch for Greyson for so long, but then so had I. I was just lucky enough to be the one he held a torch for too.
The door to the diner opened as three young ladies came barreling through. I had seen them not even a year ago and still they had grown. Tara was now eleven, Mandy ten and little Heather was four. They raced toward our table until they saw Greyson. It was like a comic strip, how Tara stopped, causing Mandy and Heather to slam into her back.
“Why’d you stop?” Heather demanded.
I climbed from the booth and held out my arms. Greyson was temporarily forgotten as I was wrapped with six limbs. Tara was almost as tall as me. She totally took after Grant. Heather on the other hand was all Paige, and Mandy was a happy blend.
When we detangled, I gestured to Greyson. “You remember Greyson.”
He had moved from the booth and like he had done all those years ago, he kissed each of their hands. Tara was at an age that her face went red, her eyes grew wide with puppy love. Mandy too, shifted on her feet, embarrassed yet in love, looking up at Greyson through her lashes. Heather on the other hand, climbed him like a tree; took his face into her little hands and stared for so long it got awkward. She then said with the authority of a four year old, “You’re pretty.”
It was late; Paige and family were asleep when Greyson and I snuck out.
“Where do you want to go first?”
“Let’s go see your house.”
“You really like that house.”
“I always saw us there, married, kids, you painting the view.”
He yanked me close. “I always saw that too.”
After spying on the house, we headed to our bluff. It was late, dark and secluded so when Greyson lifted my shirt to cup my breasts, I moved into his touch. I worked on his zipper; he undid my bra and sucked my breast into his mouth. I stroked him from base to tip. He responded by biting my nipple, then sucking me deeper into his mouth. I wanted him inside me. He was thinking the same when he dragged me to the ground and yanked off my jeans and panties. He lifted my hips and sank in deep. I watched him as he watched me. The gentle shifting of his hips, in and out, creating the friction that turned gentle to frenzied. He swallowed my scream when I came with a kiss and I returned the favor.
He curled into me and kissed my neck. “Life coming full circle. I wanted you to be mine then, now you are.”
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I drew him closer. “I always was.”
Ireland. We landed in Dublin then took a smaller aircraft to the Kerry Airport. Greyson’s car was waiting at the airport. We drove along curving roads surrounded by green hills. Before long we were pulling through the gates of Greyson’s ancestral home: Taisce Manor.
I knew he lived in a castle, I saw the drawing of it, but seeing it was an experience. It was beautiful, huge and very old. The tower, the keep at one time, dated back to medieval times. Medieval times, it boggled the mind that this structure had been around for so long. The gardens were sleeping, but I bet they were gorgeous in full bloom.
“It’s beautiful, Greyson. All of this land belongs to your family?”
“Yes.”
“It’s wonderful to see it so preserved. I’m sure it has modern updates like plumbing and electricity…” I stopped talking because I didn’t actually know if the place did have modern conveniences. “It does have electricity and plumbing, right?”
Greyson spared me a look, despite the fact that he was driving, and smiled, “Yes.”
No electricity I could handle. No plumbing, no way. Call me a hothouse flower, but peeing in a hole in the ground. Nope. I looked around at the grounds; the vast open landscape seemingly untouched by humans. It was incredible. “You can forget that we’re in the twenty-first century, it’s almost as if we stepped back in time. It doesn’t seem right for there to be cars, it spoils the illusion. I’m thinking brawny men, with long hair, wearing kilts and riding warhorses is more appropriate.” I glanced over at Greyson. “You know, you could—”
I didn’t get to finish that statement before Greyson said, and quite emphatically, “No kilt, I’m Irish not a bloody Scot.”
I looked away to hide my smile. “Pity, I bet you’d be sexy as hell in a kilt.”
We drove through an archway to find Callum waiting, but it was the line of people behind him that had my jaw dropping. Twenty women in pale gray dresses and at least the same number of men in black suits.
Greyson answered my unasked question. “It’s tradition for the household staff to greet a returning member of the family.”
It was the first time since knowing Greyson that I felt inadequate, and not physically like I had when we were younger, but socially. I didn’t mind his celebrity because I had known him before he became a rising star, but what I hadn’t appreciated was where Greyson came from. I knew he lived in a castle in Ireland and that his ancestry dated back centuries, but I didn’t really get what that meant until seeing the massive staff standing in front of a magnificent castle waiting for their young master to return. Talk about different social circles.
I didn’t get to fret on the staggering differences in Greyson and my backgrounds because as soon as the car stopped, my door opened and I was pulled into a hard hug.
“What a joy to see you again, Alexis. I want to know everything you’ve been up to but that can wait. You must be exhausted.” Callum saw the ring. His eyes lifted. “Greyson told me. Congratulations.”
I could only smile in reply because I still got emotional thinking about Greyson and me being engaged. I studied Callum. It had been six years and he looked just the same. Remembering his fall, I asked, “How are you? You look wonderful.”
“I’m doing very well. As healthy as a horse.”
“I’m happy to hear that.”
“Would you like to nap, eat or take a tour?”
“A tour sounds great.”
“Food sounds better.” Greyson winked before he added, “Let’s give the lady the tour, Grandfather, and then we can eat.”
Before we started the tour we stopped in front of the staff. I thought he was giving them a chance to say hello to Greyson. I was wrong. “I’d like to introduce you to the future lady of the manor, Greyson’s fiancée, Alexis Owens.”
My eyes flew to him, then the clapping started, a thunderous applause for someone they knew nothing about. That hole in my heart filled in more.
“Alexis, this is William, Nigel and Maggie.”
I got a little emotional remembering the beautiful Mont Blanc pen they had sent me for my graduation gift. I’d christened the pen writing their thank you notes. I was never without it. “It is so nice to meet you.” I wasn’t sure of the protocol, at home I would have hugged Maggie, but it was all so formal here. I offered her my hand instead; she ignored my hand and yanked me into her arms.
William was more reserved, his handshake a bit stiff. Nigel, on the other hand, was quite affable when he covered our joined hands with his free one. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Owens.”
“All right, let me show you around,” Callum said.
We walked over the threshold and that feeling of going back in time washed over me again. The foyer was massive, the ceilings at least twenty feet high, but it was the age and history of the place that held me captive. Greyson’s ancestors had walked these halls; it had survived plagues, famine and wars. It was the link that tied Greyson, the last of the Ratcliffes, to the Aenfinn, the very first of them. And more extraordinary, everyone in between had walked these halls.
The walls were painted an aged cream and the floors were a beautiful dark mahogany. There was a large round pedestal table in the center of the foyer; the sight brought a smile. A vase of fresh cut flowers rested atop it. I wondered if that was the selling point for the apartment when Greyson saw a touch of home. This vase was an antique Waterford…an heirloom. Hanging over the table, from the high ceiling, was a crystal chandelier that looked to be raining diamonds. Callum led me from the foyer into a drawing room that was filled with old paintings and several pieces I recognized as Greyson’s. I wanted to study his earlier work and would be coming back to do just that. The furniture was done in rich, deep-toned fabrics, and there was a concert grand piano sitting in the corner, but the room was so large that the massive instrument actually looked small. The fireplace was like nothing I’d ever seen. It was huge, walk in and cook yourself huge.
The dining room looked more like a ballroom in size. The table sat thirty, but it was lost in the space. Dark green walls showcased large oil paintings that were old from the look of them. Two fireplaces on opposite walls would compete to keep the room warm. Above the table were what I thought were brass chandeliers, but as I studied them I realized I was mistaken. A gold chandelier was extraordinary in and of itself, but when it came in a set of four it was mind blowing.
Each room in the castle was more beautiful than the previous, the history within the walls was overwhelming, and the more I saw the more insecure I felt.
“This was Greyson’s room.” Even feeling as I was I couldn’t deny the excitement at seeing Greyson’s childhood room. A large walnut sleigh bed took up most of the space and flanking it were matching nightstands. The floors were wood, aged and worn but beautiful. The walls were a soothing mossy green, but it was the paintings on the walls that I studied. He didn’t have posters of bands or movies. Greyson’s walls were covered in his drawings and later paintings. One was of stick people, but they were the nicest looking stick people I’d ever seen. Another was of a horse in a field, the date was when he was five and yet his drawing was better than anything I could do now. There were framed photos of his parents, of the three of them, and one of all three Ratcliffe men. It was scary how much they looked alike.
“I know you must be tired so I can have your dinners brought up to you.”
I glanced over at Greyson before I replied, “We’d like to have dinner with you.”
Callum answered with a smile. “See you soon.”
The door closed and as was his way Greyson knew exactly what was going through my mind. He crossed the room to me. “I love you and you me. That’s what you measure us by, nothing else.”
I had trouble meeting his gaze. In theory he was right, but I was already having a hard time accepting that I wasn’t able to contribute more toward our apartment. Sure, he’d been working all these years and I was going to school, but I wanted to be on equal footing when we started our life together. I had to accept for the time being we wouldn’t be, but seeing where he came from, we would never be on equal footing. Even if I was lucky enough to become crazy successful, he had a family rich in history, hell, he was probably some kind of Irish nobility, and my father chose to break the law for a living.
Greyson touched my chin to gain my attention. “Understand?”
I avoided answering. “I love your room.”
He wouldn’t let me. “Alexis.”
The words were out before I could stop them. “Why me?”
My words were like a slap with the way his head reared back in shock. “Why, because you like Luke Skywalker over Captain Kirk and Toaster Strudels over Pop-Tarts. You have that beauty mark on your neck that still drives me crazy. You can make up a story about anything on a whim and you have appalling taste in bicycles.” He pulled me into his arms. “But you have excellent taste in fiancés.” He lowered his head. “Are we good?”
This is why we worked because despite where we came from we fit. “Yes, we’re good.” But I wasn’t able to shake off my insecurity so easily because I feared one day he might discover he needed more than I could give.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to say it was jet lag, but insecurity played a part too. He would be upset knowing I was still thinking that, but staring at my surroundings it was hard not to. I grabbed my robe and slipped from the room. We hadn’t toured the portrait gallery, we planned to in the morning, but I wanted to see in person the paintings I had studied so closely.
I was prepared for massive, the entire castle was massive, but when light flooded the room my breath caught. The gallery was the size of a football field; the ceilings were at least twenty feet high, which made the space seem even more immense and every inch of wall space was covered in paintings. Plaques on the bottom of each gilded frame identified the subject. Every Ratcliffe from the first was represented.
I started at the very beginning, to the man who had started it all. Aenfinn Ratcliffe. He was a giant of a man and he had those eyes that had trickled down the DNA line all the way to Greyson. He carried a sword, a large deadly looking weapon, but it was the stone centered on the hilt that held my attention. It looked like an emerald, but the clarity was perfect. It had to be at least a hundred carats. Even though it was only paint, the stone seemed to pulse with life. The diamond. Standing in that room, looking at that painting, I so believed the legend.
I moved down the line from Aenfinn. There was no denying the impact of DNA because every generation had the same bone structure, but more they all had those wonderful eyes.
I spent a little more time studying the portraits of the only two women to wear the diamond, the only love matches in the Ratcliffe’s long history. Celeste Ratcliffe wore it in the fifteenth century and though the stone was magnificent, the artist who captured it during this century had not as successfully brought the heat of the stone to life like the first portrait. Caitlin Ratcliffe was the second woman in the nineteenth century. Had the diamond not been lost, it would have appeared on at least two more women, Callum’s wife and Greyson’s mom. It would have appeared on my portrait. That thought made me a little weak in the knees, the idea that I would be a part of this extraordinary family. Still, five love matches in a family that spanned seven centuries was sad that so many chose duty over love. But had they not, I wouldn’t be standing in this room.
I stopped in front of Callum’s portrait. His was done when he was much younger, late twenties I would guess. He looked so much like Greyson it was a bit startling. His wife, Colleen, her feistiness came through the painting, a red head with laughing blue eyes. After Callum was Ardan Ratcliffe, Greyson’s father. It was shocking how much father and son looked alike and I thought the resemblance to Callum was startling. Honestly the three of them could be triplets. And next to Ardan was his wife, Greyson’s mom, Cara. Sultry was the word that came to mind. She was exotic, exquisite, smiling a secret little smile. It was heartbreaking to know their lives were cut short leaving behind their son who would have only memories of them, but at least he had those memories.
I reached Greyson’s portrait and looked into those beloved eyes. He was younger, far younger than the others in his portrait; I would guess it was done right before he moved to Mendocino. He looked just like he had that first day on the beach, the boy who had taken my spot on the jetty and had claimed my heart without having to do a thing. It was overwhelming what being a Ratcliffe entailed and their staggering wealth, but despite my doubts I wanted so much to be one. I wanted my portrait in this hall, next to Greyson’s so some young woman hundreds of years from now would know we had lived and loved. The hour and jet lag hit me. I turned to leave and saw Greyson strolling into the room in that sexy way he had. Dressed in only his pajama pants, he looked like Zeus just leaving his lover’s bed.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked when he was close enough.
“No, and I really wanted to see this.”
His focus shifted behind me. “There are a lot of them, aren’t there?”
I reached for his hand and walked him to his portrait. “When was this done?”
“About six months before we left for the States.”
“I thought you looked just like Callum, but you and your dad could be twins.”
“Yeah, Mom always said that.” He studied her portrait for a few minutes before he said, “She didn’t come from money; her dad owned the local pub. Dad fell for her on first sight.” His gaze turned on me. “She was overwhelmed by all of this too, but she loved my father, he loved her, the rest she knew would fall into place.”
“I’m being given a lesson, aren’t I?”
His next words were so easily given, words that came right from his heart. “I would give all of this up for you, every painting, every cornerstone, every acre. That’s how much you mean to me.”
Being in this room, I understood exactly what he was willing to give up. His love was humbling.
“If the roles were reversed, would you want me any less because I didn’t come from all of this?”
Was he smoking crack? “Of course not.”
“It really is that simple, please don’t complicate it.”
For the first week, Greyson and Callum showed me around County Kerry. I fell in love with the place. It was as if the entire area was pulled from the pages of a storybook. There were vast open spaces of rolling emerald-colored hills and stone cliffs that cradled lakes of brilliant sapphire water. In contrast, there were sections of the greenest lushest forests with the only interruption to the green being trickling streams of cool, clear water tumbling over rock beds. In the midst of all this was a charming village. I realized that the house in Mendocino, where Callum and Greyson had lived, had a view very similar to Kerry’s and was probably why Callum had picked the place.
The second week of our visit Greyson spent a great deal of time working; he couldn’t resist the enticement around him. I watched him sometimes, loved to see how he completely lost himself in his work. It was almost as if when he touched his brush to the canvas that some higher being took over.
One day I found myself outside with Callum and Nigel having tea. Nigel was the estate manager, but it was the dynamic between Callum and Nigel that was fun to watch because it reminded me of the relationship I had with the twins. The weather was unseasonably warm.
“It’s beautiful here. I find myself wondering how Greyson could have left here and stayed away.”
Callum looked thoughtful before he answered, “Greyson loves it here, but even as a child he felt a calling…a pull. I always thought it was because of his gift that he wanted to see the world, see it and paint it.”
“And now?”
“Seeing him with you and you with him, I wonder now if it was the world that called to him or you.”
I swear I needed to start carrying tissues because honestly the waterworks were getting to be a bit much, but no one had ever said anything so wonderful to me.
He glanced at Nigel, who was graciously staring into his tea. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, but it’s very special what you two share. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you have found your way back to each other.”
“That is a sentiment we agree on.” I looked behind him to the castle that sat majestically on its little piece of the world and the family who had owned it since the beginning. “I’ve been working on your family’s book and you were right, it’s fascinating.”
Callum leaned back in his chair and smiled knowingly.
My attention turned to Nigel. “I imagine you must know about the legend of the diamond.”
“I do indeed.”
“I personally believe it was conjured as the legend states.”
“Another hopeless romantic,” Nigel teased.
“You don’t believe the story?”
“I believe in what I can see and touch.”
“Nigel is a very practical man,” Callum said in a way that was clear they’d had the discussion before.
“Playing devil’s advocate. What if it wasn’t conjured? What if it was created the old fashion way?” I theorized.
“I’m listening,” Callum encouraged.
“A stone that unique, there would have to be records. Someone mined it and someone cut it. I had originally thought the diamond was stolen, that the fire was set as a diversion, but there’s been no sighting of it. And if we assume the thief kept it hidden for a generation or two so the story of its origins could die out, surely someone would have worn it by now, an insurance company would have insured it, a jeweler inspected it.” I looked at Nigel. “As the estate manager, you would have found records of its existence.”
“Agreed.”
“And yet there has been nothing,” Callum added.
“Exactly. If the stone is just a myth, then why does it show up in two additional paintings as a brooch? Why the story about the stone passing down to love matches?”
“You have been busy,” Callum offered with a smile.
“I love a good mystery. I think the diamond is real, but I don’t think it was stolen.”
“So where is it?” Nigel asked.
I leaned back in my chair and blew out a breath because that was one part of the story I couldn’t figure out. “I don’t know.”
“The argument could be made there is nothing of the diamond because it is just a lovely bedtime story,” Nigel countered.
“You’re right, but the romantic in me refuses to believe that.”
“Here, here,” Callum agreed.
“It’s sad that there were so few love matches in your family’s history.”
Callum reached for his tea, his expression thoughtful. “That was the way of it. These large estates were maintained through marriage. It was very unbecoming for the Lord of the manor to work. His life was one of leisure and privilege but you can’t sustain an estate on balls and tea parties. There was definitely a separation of class and yet without the families that supported these estates through the generations, there wouldn’t be an estate.” Callum glanced at Nigel, clearly that generational continuation he mentioned applied to him. “For all the pomp and frill of the nobility, they were dependent on the ones they believed themselves to be superior to, not very different from today’s social dynamic. And as much as it pains me to say it, the period in our history when the lord had married for love were the hardest, the Ratcliffes really struggled with staying afloat.”
“Somewhere along the line that changed.”
He smiled. “Yes. My great, great grandfather was a renaissance man and knew the estates would die off unless those responsible for them started taking responsibility for them. I’m happy to say we no longer depend on the dowry of wealthy, eligible women.” He winked at me. “We can marry for love not duty.”
I played with my ring. It was a bit surreal that I was directly affected by this conversation, mind boggling actually.
After the talk with Callum and Nigel, I went in search of Greyson. He had an easel set up on the south lawn, his focus toward the forest. Many of the trees were bare, their naked branches curling up toward the sun, but there were evergreens tucked in here and there. Hills rose up to meet that patch of trees, stone walls stretched out to the horizon. Living in New York City where every inch was developed, the crowds and the noise, this was paradise.
As I approached, I wasn’t expecting Greyson’s attention because when he worked his focus was singular so I was surprised when he turned to me. His gaze moved down my body before settling on my face. He set his palette down and strolled over to me.
“Hey, beautiful.”
I glanced at his painting, the brushstrokes of color, the composition. He really was gifted. “That’s beautiful.”
He glanced back. “I thought we’d hang it in the apartment.”
We had hung his other paintings, the ones he had done for me. The walls in our apartment looked much like the portrait gallery with every inch covered. I loved it. Greyson was all around me.
He glanced behind me to the footman. There was always someone close by. It was fascinating. “Could you take that in for me? The parlor is fine.” He took my hand. “I want to show you something.”
We walked to a part of the castle I hadn’t seen yet. He opened the door to a bedroom with a large mahogany bed, windows trimmed in dark blue silk, a massive fireplace that had doors flanking it—his and her dressing rooms. His parents’ room.
“I don’t know if it’s wise to keep the room like this, but it was one concession my grandfather agreed to.”
There were photos of Greyson as a boy and I found myself drawn to those, seeing him as a child. A few had his parents in them; there were photos of horses.
Greyson broke the silence when he said, “I found her diary. I haven’t read it. I want you to have it. My dad wrote poetry. I’ve found a few of his notebooks. I want you to have them too.”
“Me?”
“They would have loved you and words are your medium. What better way for you to know them than through their words.”
I was without words then; his gesture overwhelmed me. I wanted to kiss him, but we were in his parents’ room. Instead I asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He kissed me and it was then I realized he had just declared his intentions to the memory of his parents.
Opening night of my play and I wanted to throw up. In the two months since we returned from Ireland, every day had been filled with set and costume checks, last minute tweaks on the script, lighting issues and dress rehearsals. Those two months flew.
I checked myself in the mirror for the sixth time. The box office was sold out. Part of that was due to Greyson’s presence, but I was okay with that. More importantly, Paige, Grant and the girls were downstairs, as were the twins and their parents, and Callum.
I felt Greyson approach before his arms wrapped around me. “You look beautiful and nervous.”
I turned into him so I could enjoy the sight of him in a tux. “My stomach won’t stop jumping.”
“It’s going to be amazing.”
There were so many things that could go wrong, lighting, sets. This was going to be a very long night.
“Try to enjoy yourself. You’ve worked so hard to get here.”
I loved that he was here, that I got to share this first with him. I reached for his hand. “Stay at my side.”
“Always.”
We joined the others. Paige looked beautiful in her blush-colored gown. As soon as she saw me, she hugged me. “I’m so proud of you. It is going to be amazing. Try to enjoy it.”
“Easier said than done, but do try to soak in the significance of tonight. Your words, your thoughts will be on display for a sold out audience. That’s incredible. Enjoy the ride,” Grant added before he kissed my head.
Mrs. Cantenelli pressed a lace handkerchief in my hand. “You’re going to need that.” Then she hugged me. “We’re so happy to be here for this.”
“Thank you for making the trip. It is such a long flight.”
She waved that off. “Nonsense. We wouldn’t have missed it.”
Paige and Grant were talking to Callum, too impatient for the introductions. Like the Cantenellis, he had come a long way for this. I reached for his hands. “Thank you for coming.”
“Your debut play, you couldn’t keep me away.” He squeezed my hand. “Try to savor the evening and…” He grinned before he added, “Break a leg.”
The twins crowded me. “How you holding up?” Dylan asked.
“I’m numb from excitement.”
Dominic draped his arm over my shoulders and started for the door. “Don’t worry. We got you.”
In the theater, we sat in the front so I couldn’t see the reactions of the crowd, though the laughs were loud and often. Greyson held my hand throughout, leaned over a few times to kiss my temple. I had the strangest sensation someone was watching me, but considering the circumstances many probably were. When the curtain lifted for the final time, a roar of applause broke out. It went on for so long, they turned up the house lights and the cast gestured for me to join them. I will never forget walking up on that stage and looking out into the audience who were on their feet applauding. It was one of the most amazing moments of my life.
My eyes drifted to Greyson, clapping and whistling louder than anyone. I don’t know why my focus shifted to the rear of the theater, maybe it was the flutter that tickled the nape of my neck, but standing at the back was a man. Spiky black hair framed a face, although older, was one I knew well because I had memorized every line and curve. Everything else faded for me, it was just he and I. Despite the distance between us, the moment was meaningful, as words not spoken were understood. He’d come; he had not only known about this momentous moment, he had come. He touched his fingers to his lips then he was gone. I stood trapped in that moment, unable to move or speak because my dad had found me.
“He was there.” Greyson pulled a hand through his hair as he paced our bedroom. I waited until we were home to tell him about my father. I didn’t want to mention it to the others only because of the potential danger to them. He stopped pacing and looked back at me. “I’m happy for you that he was there.”
“But you’re nervous.”
“He did rip you from his life, so showing up at your play…yeah, I’m nervous.” He joined me on the bed, taking my hand into his. “Are you okay?”
“I saw my dad, Greyson. Just in passing, but I saw those eyes that I’ve spent countless hours staring into. He was there. For one of the biggest moments of my life, he was there. I feel wonderful.”
He tucked some hair behind my ear. “There was so much of you in your play, your humor and compassion and there was also a vein of pain, the same pain I’ve seen in your eyes since we were kids. It was you up there; you opened up your heart, your life, and put it on display. Bravest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” I climbed into his lap, straddled him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands moved up my back. “Your father saw it too.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. What was the lesser of two evils, safe from harm or damaged from neglect?”
“Not anymore,” Greyson snarled. “You’ll never be alone again.”
I rubbed myself against him and traced his lips with my tongue. He tugged on my zipper and slowly pulled it down. I had a surprise for him. He stood, dropped me on my feet, my gown followed.
“Fuck, Alexis.”
I wasn’t wearing anything under my gown. The front of his pants tented. I rubbed him, he growled and moved his hips into my touch.
“I’m glad I didn’t know you had nothing on under that gown because we would have missed the play.” He nipped at my lips as his hands roamed over my body. I worked his zipper; pulled his cock free and dropped to my knees. The sexiest sound rumbled in his chest. It broke free when I closed my lips around him and sucked him deep into my throat. His fingers curled into my hair as I tongued his cock, swirling around the tip while squeezing the base, the heel of my hand pressing into his balls. I was just getting a rhythm when I felt myself flying through the air. I landed on the bed; Greyson stripped in record time and pounced. Grabbing my ass he lifted my hips and slammed into me. My legs wrapped around his waist as my hips moved into his thrusts. His fingers threaded into my hair before he kissed me, mirroring with his tongue what his cock was doing. When we came, it was together. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.