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Patrick looked my way. “The roads are not good and getting worse. The helicopter pilot says if the winds keep up, he can’t fly.”

Fuck.

I paced the office of my cabin watching the snow accumulating outside the windows as inside, the staff and others prepared for Araneae’s and my wedding. The living room with the two-story windows had been transformed into a chapel. Sparkling lights and evergreen combined with the view out the windows made it a winter wonderland. No expense was spared.

It wasn’t that money had ever been an issue, but after the court’s recent ruling that Araneae McCrie was now alive and the cashing in of the stocks her father had purchased, finances were less of a concern. Of course, Araneae had strong opinions about the use of her newfound wealth.

I wouldn’t have expected any less.

She had plans for improvements and expansions regarding Sinful Threads. Louisa loved the idea of branching out into bed linens. Even with my limited knowledge of their merchandise, as a businessman I saw the opportunity. Araneae had been right that most people spend a third of their lives in bed. Why not let them sleep on Sinful Threads sheets?

Then again, it was my goal that when it came to the two of us, we’d increase that percentage. However, the bed wasn’t the most important element of the equation. It was the connection between my soon-to-be wife and me. I’d gladly make love to her in bed or fuck her against the wall or even on the kitchen counter. Thankfully, while I was up for all the possibilities, so was my fiancée.

Araneae’s other plan for her increased assets involved creating a foundation for victims of child and adult trafficking and exploitation. With Annabelle’s assistance with the legalities, they were working on the best way to help. Araneae’s desires were all-encompassing. She wanted counseling, medical treatment, and education. Dr. Dixon was one hundred percent on board and ready to take on the medical aspect. She herself hadn’t been a victim, but her sister was. While her sister wasn’t saved, I may have had something to do with financing Renita’s education, giving her a means to help others where her sister wasn’t. I financed it, but she was the one who turned hard work into a medical career.

It’s my observation that sometimes victim was a term that could be expanded beyond the individual who experienced the atrocity and include their support system as well.

It would take a while to get Araneae’s plans up and running. With her determination and Annabelle’s help, I had no doubt that the Sparrow Institute would one day be a reality.

As time passed, it was painfully obvious that Araneae’s light had fucked with my dark more than the other way around.

I looked over at Patrick, dressed in a custom tuxedo. Reid was with us, looking good too in his tuxedo. I had been hidden away from Araneae all day while she was upstairs with her mother, Lorna, Louisa, and Winnie along with a staff of hairdressers and makeup people. In my opinion, the staff wasn’t necessary. Araneae was stunning first thing in the morning with no makeup, sex-mussed hair, and the patches of red on her skin where my beard growth left a trail reminding us both where I’d been. She didn’t need professionals to enhance her beauty in any way.

My mother, Louisa’s parents, and her sister and Marcel, as well as Jason and baby Kennedy were also here. It was fucking Grand Central Station. Every damn bedroom in this cabin was occupied, including the spare bedrooms above the garages. That was, except one.

What do you get the woman you love for her wedding when she had the world at her fingertips?

Araneae Sparrow was about to become the queen of Chicago, and there was nothing she couldn’t have.

I came up with an idea.

The name Lucy Nelson provided was the opening to both old and new information. With some detective work from Reid and his men, we’d found the one thing—or should I say the two people—Araneae wanted in her life.

That discovery also revealed more of the secrets and reasons on how Renee Marsh had become Kennedy Hawkins. Keeping the Marshes, or Currys, a secret from my fiancée was one of the most difficult things I’d done since I brought Araneae into my life. I’d promised her honesty and I’d provided it. I also told her there were things I couldn’t disclose.

Currently, the Marshes fit in that category.

It was a needle in a proverbial haystack, but as luck would have it, a few years ago Neal Curry had been photographed. It was for an educational paper published on the subject of secluded communities—a master’s thesis written during the recent nationwide obsession with cults. The paper was published in a little-read refereed journal. Neal happened to be among a group of men from a small community in Maine who visited a town every three months to buy and sell goods. The paper made a point that the candid photographs were taken without the subjects’ knowledge or permission and the names of the community members were provided secondhand by townspeople. Since the members refused interviews, the author could not stand behind the accuracy yet chose to publish the photos as evidence of the community’s existence.

Being the only lead we’d had in over ten years, Reid, Patrick, and I had to check it out.

To say that both of the Currys were shocked upon our arrival to their Maine community would be an understatement. We later learned that Neal, aka Byron, had been part of the Sparrow outfit since childhood. Allister had set him and his wife up to raise Araneae. When they learned of McCrie’s death, they were also informed my father was coming after them.

I don’t know if what they were told or believed was true, but if it had been, these two people saved my fiancée’s life. I owed them an eternal debt, not vengeance as Allister may have planned.

The woman Araneae remembers as Josey now goes by her legal name, Rebecca. Once I convinced her to talk to me—not an easy process—I showed her a recent picture of Araneae from the many on my phone.

My fiancée was so fucking beautiful, I’d take her picture constantly if I wasn’t busy showing her how important she was to me. That’s on my agenda for the next fifty or so years.

Reid looked up from the computer on the table before him. Working from a laptop was a definite downgrade from our lair in Chicago. “This sounds crazy, Sparrow, but I found a man near the airport where the Currys are currently stuck. He drives a snowplow. He guarantees he can get them here. It will just take a little longer.”

I looked at my watch. The wedding was supposed to start in ninety minutes. “Tell them yes. We’ll wait. I don’t know what I’ll tell Araneae, but we’ll wait.”

“He said there’d be a fee,” Reid said.

My eyes opened wider. “I don’t give a fuck. Just get them here.”

Reid typed out his response. “In good weather the drive is around an hour and fifteen minutes.”

“Just have them keep us posted. I’ll get Annabelle to help with the delay.” I’d told her about my impending surprise, not wanting the presence of the people who raised her daughter to upset her. As with most things, she was supportive.

Araneae’s mother was taking our engagement and wedding better than Genevieve. However, even my mother was coming around. It helped when I told her that it was Araneae who contained the casualties of our world to Rubio and his top men. I also think Annabelle helped to convince my mother that the joining of our two families truly was as I’d said—the perfect union.

Two families in Chicago’s elite.

The royal wedding was about to occur.

With Araneae still upstairs, Annabelle greeted the Currys as soon as they arrived.

“Hello,” Rebecca said meekly, seemingly overwhelmed by the travel and perhaps our home. Her gaze darted around until it landed on Annabelle.

As I started to speak, to welcome them, Annabelle gasped. “I remember you...from the hospital.”

Rebecca reached out to Annabelle’s arm. “Please know that we loved her.”

There were tears in Annabelle’s eyes. “I believe you. It was out of both of our control. She loved you too and speaks highly of you.”

I’m not fucking emotional, but watching the two women embrace one another was the final chipping away of the rock-hard coating that had covered my heart.

I didn’t shed a tear.

Hell no.

Are there winter allergies?

I think there could be.

With all the guests seated, I made my way to the front of the room by the windows with Patrick and Reid at my side. On one side of the aisle was my mother. On the other side were the Currys and Annabelle. I couldn’t help but notice how Rebecca and Annabelle were putting their heads together, whispering, and even holding one another’s hands. It must have been surreal to each of them, to know that together they had been and now would be part of Araneae’s life.

When the music started, the procession began. Winnie, Lorna, and then Louisa descended the stairs, all smiling as they came closer. It was as the music changed that my vision tunneled. Coming down the stairs in a long white gown, her scooped neckline and long veil trimmed in soft white faux fur, was the woman who was made for me. Her golden hair was up, showcasing her slender neck. Hanging from her ears were the diamond earrings I’d given to her the night she boarded the plane to be mine.

As our gazes met, I wondered if she’d see her gift—the Marshes—because from where I stood, it seemed as if she too had tunnel vision. We only had eyes for one another.

The most gorgeous light-chocolate stare looked up at me as the officiant said his words. I couldn’t tell you exactly what they were. I only knew what they meant. Their meaning did more than cement my father’s nearly twenty-year-old proclamation that Araneae was mine. His words gave both Araneae and I more than either of us had ever had on our own.

Love.

Security.

His words obliterated the secrets and lies of the past.

And assured us promises for a future.

Beyond my beautiful bride was proof that the union he was performing also gave us family.

When the final words were spoken and I kissed my bride, she whispered, “I have a gift for you.” The gleam in her eyes was contagious.

What could she possibly give me that I couldn’t buy?

“Sunshine, the only gift I want is you.”

Her cheeks rose. “We’ll see.”

As Louisa handed her back her bouquet, Araneae turned toward our guests and an audible gasp escaped her lips. This time as she alternated her stare from the Currys to me, the earlier gleam was gone, replaced by an onslaught of tears.

I reached for her cheeks, wiping away the moisture. “Don’t cry. They didn’t want to miss their daughter’s wedding.”

Lifting the front of the skirt of her dress, Araneae hurried toward the Currys, wrapping her arms around both of them. “How?” she asked, looking at Mr. Curry. “Daddy, you...died.”

Annabelle reached out to her daughter’s shoulder. “So did you.”

Later, as emotions settled and the joyous occasion prevailed, while Araneae and I sat at the center of the table, and foods and wines were being consumed, my wife leaned my way. “With the gift you gave me, I almost forgot to give you yours.”

“I told you, all I need is you.”

She reached down to the pearl-covered handbag near her feet and lifted it. Unsnapping the clasp, she reached inside. When she looked back up, the earlier shimmer was back in her soft brown gaze.

“What is it?” I asked. She had my curiosity piqued.

Keeping her hand below the table’s edge, she opened her fingers, exposing the small remote control in her grasp—the one to the custom-made vibrator.

My smile grew. “That only works if you’re wearing...” My eyebrows danced.

“Then it will work,” she said as pink filled her cheeks.

Taking the remote and placing it in the pocket of my tuxedo, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, Araneae Sparrow was made for me.