Ian shook me out of a pleasant dream at a quarter to seven on the morning of our eighth anniversary. I imagined smothering him with my pillow. “Happy anniversary, Leigh.”

Shrinking away from the sunbeams slanting across our bedroom, I pulled the sheets over my head and mumbled, “It’s way too early to be happy about anything, Ian. But happy anniversary.”

He laughed. “It’s always time for happiness. Especially on this particular day. Now come on. I need you to get dressed.”

“What?”

“Get dressed, kiss Sophia goodbye, and come on.”

“Come on? Come on where?”

“We’re catching a flight out of Spring in two hours.” He glanced at the clock. “We’ll spend half of that in traffic at this rate due to construction on 45. I should have gotten you up an hour ago.”

I blinked at him. “What the hell are you talking about, you crazy bird man?”

He made an exasperated sound in his throat. “It’s our anniversary.”

“I know that, but—”

Ian pulled the covers off my body and plucked me from the bed so easily I flailed and gripped onto his shoulders. I realized he’d already dressed in a fine shirt and trousers, wearing a tie Sophia and I had given him two years ago for his birthday. When we bought it, I’d never expected him to wear the ugly thing, because it was both the most hideous and most patriotic piece of silk I’d ever seen, featuring the stars and stripes and a posing bald eagle.

My husband hustled me into the bathroom to brush my teeth then rushed me in and out of the shower. I wondered if he’d ever been a training instructor during his time in the Air Force. He knew how to use his voice like one.

“Grab a swimsuit. Dress and pack for three days of cool weather,” he said, dragging out my luggage.

I arched a brow and pulled out my heavy coat.

“Not freezing. Chilly.”

I exchanged the heavy coat for a fitted sweater dress with a mid-thigh hem and an asymmetrical neckline. With the right bra, my cleavage looked amazing. He flashed me a thumbs up then left the room, returning a few minutes later with Sophia on his hip, Moonfeather on his shoulder, and a canteen of coffee in one hand. He passed me the latter.

“Taylor is here for Sophia and Moonfeather. Julia volunteered to watch them, but we anticipated Moonfeather would give the triplets trouble.” Taylor and Jada were our only set of friends without small kids in their home.

“Bye, Mommy! Have fun with Daddy.” We hugged tight and traded kisses, but she made an exasperated sound when I leaned back. “You have to kiss Moonfeather goodbye.”

“Oh, sorry.” I kissed the side of his beak. He allowed it without biting my face off.

He and I progressed in leaps and bounds.

I tossed my makeup bag into the suitcase along with leggings, boots, a few comfortable sweaters, and a couple nice dresses with Ian’s input when he returned. He plucked my two-piece swimsuit out of the closet, and I glowered at him.

“What? You look hot in this.”

“My tummy stretch marks—”

“Nobody gives a damn about those but you. Wear the bikini.”

Half an hour later, we were heading southbound on I-45 toward Houston and I still clutched a coffee thermos between my hands.

We reached a private airport out in Spring that I hadn’t even known existed, and the people there greeted Ian like he was a friend. In a daze, I boarded a sweet looking jet with him and followed a chipper flight attendant to a cabin with six standard—but way larger than usual—airplane chairs.

On the other side of the spacious, gray-carpeted floor, a sofa with gorgeous decorative pillows waited for us, opposite a glossy entertainment stand with a widescreen television. I gaped.

“I’m Benny, and I’ll be your flight attendant today. You’ll have to remain seated and buckled in once our captain signals it’s time for takeoff, but afterward, you can move about the plane as desired,” our friendly attendant said, a big grin on his face. Benny didn’t look much older than me, early thirties at the latest, with a big mop of russet-brown hair and milk chocolate brown eyes.

I wanted to bottle his energy.

“Thank you.”

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. MacArthur. Your husband has said so many kind things about you that I began to think you were a mythological creature.”

“He has?”

“Oh, always, dear. I couldn’t wait to meet you when he requested our services.”

I stole a glance at Ian. He’d stepped into the cockpit. I prayed he wasn’t piloting the plane and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t take the co-pilot’s chair and a young woman boarded to take that seat.

“So, let’s have a look around the Silver Eagle while they discuss their technical babble.”

On top of the spacious entertainment floor, the jet had a private bedroom and a bathroom equipped with a walk-in shower. I stared at it. Every surface gleamed. The toilet didn’t reek of the raw sewage stench I associated with commercial craft. Sometime later, Benny took me to the front again where Ian bashfully introduced me to the pilots.

“I’m Susan. Pleased to be flying for you today, ma’am.”

The older man shook my hand. A big smile crinkled his golden-brown eyes, then I noticed the resemblance between him and Benny. And Susan. They all had the same shiny red hair. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. MacArthur. About time he brought you aboard. I’m Captain James Cross, but you can just call me James, ma’am.”

“No, ma’am, please. Just Leigh.”

His smile widened. “Leigh, it is. We’ll have authorization to take off in a few minutes, so I’d like you both to have a seat and get comfortable for now. Benny will let you know when it’s all right to unfasten your seat belts.”

“Sounds great.”

Once I took a seat, I marveled over the floor space.

“At this moment, I’d like to ask you and Mr. MacArthur to please place your cellular devices in airplane mode,” Benny said. And then the entire spiel about the emergency exits began.

Fifteen minutes into our flight, Benny served me a glass of my favorite bubbly moscato and said we were free to move around.

Ian unfastened my seat belt and gestured for me to follow him to the sofa, but I hung back, afraid I’d spill this fine wine on the fabric. Every inch of the interior looked expensive, so I imagined we were flying on some acquaintance’s private jet. He knew so many important people.

Two years ago, when Ian introduced me to a wealthy dragon, I’d learned to never underestimate his connections.

“Come on, Leigh. Have a seat with me. I have an early copy of The Hollendale Murders here.”

“That’s not in theaters yet!”

His cocky grin made me want to punch him. And kiss him. I couldn’t decide which. “Special favor.”

“You don’t even like horror.”

Ian started the movie. Without previews to slow us down, the flick opened to a bloodbath of epic proportions. My husband stared. “I may not like horror, but I love you.” A moment passed before he blinked at the screen and muttered, “goddamn, I love you a lot.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek and debated how much I wanted to see the movie versus sparing my husband ninety grisly minutes of death. “You don’t have to watch this—”

“I called in a favor to get you an advanced viewing. We’re watching it.”

Gingerly, I settled in the spot beside him and set my moscato in the beverage holder. Benny wheeled in a cart with several covered dishes. He uncovered the first, revealing an amazing rack of lamb chops. A mouthwatering aroma wafted from the marinated meat.

“How large a portion would you like, Mrs. MacArthur?”

“Leigh, please, Benny. Just call me Leigh.”

“Leigh, then. So how much would you like?”

“I don’t know if we should be eating on this jet… everything is so expensive.”

A big grin spread across Benny’s face. “Is that right?”

Ian laughed too. “You may as well divide that rack down the middle, Benny. I’m starving, and Leigh hasn’t had a bite to eat either.”

“I can’t eat half a rack of lamb, Ian.”

“I’ll finish whatever’s left on your plate.”

Benny sliced down each chop then served them alongside roasted, parmesan-encrusted zucchini slices and garlic asparagus. Every bite melted in my mouth, and the meat was so tender I sighed and leaned against my husband’s shoulder. Before I knew what was happening, I’d eaten all of my share but one chop. I fed that bite by bite to Ian.

I’d really missed moments like this between us. Even with the gory movie playing in front of us and idiotic townspeople pointing the finger at everyone but the supernatural force ripping through their quaint town, our flight was somehow the closest we’d been in months.

Benny arrived again to take away our plates. He topped off my wine. “Will there be anything else?”

Ian glanced at me. “Dessert?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s all for now. Thank you.”

“If you need anything, please feel free to ring the bell. I’ll be in the cockpit with Dad.” Benny moved ahead into the next compartment and shut the door behind him, granting us absolute privacy.

Ha! I knew it.

“I’m going to feel awful if I spill this wine on the sofa.”

“Don’t.”

“Are you sure we should be eating and drinking on a designer couch? This thing must retail around at least ten thousand dollars.” I’d seen similar sofas before while out shopping for our living room set.

“We can do whatever we want here because this is my private jet.”

“Your private jet?”

“Yeah.”

I stared at him. If he had a private jet all of this time, why the hell did he always fly on a commercial plane when he traveled in and out of town?

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe some moments called for privacy and others didn’t. That hadn’t occurred to me. For the past eight years of our relationship I’d been so determined to never touch his riches and dig into his business that I’d somehow overlooked my husband owning a jet like a billionaire romance novel hero.

A million questions buzzed through my mind.

I ignored them all, dropped my head on Ian’s shoulder, and enjoyed my horror movie.

When Ian went all out, he went all out. He didn’t rent a mere hotel room; he rented a suite worthy of foreign dignitaries, kings, and queens. I stepped over the threshold into paradise and gaped at the majesty surrounding me.

“Ian, this place is gorgeous.” And one night must have cost as much as a month of my little nursing home salary.

I’d never stayed at a hotel where someone carried my luggage to the room for me.

While he poured cognac from a decanter on an antique table, I took an adventure through two floors of penthouse overlooking Manhattan.

“Ian, there’s a wine cellar!”

I counted five bedrooms and three baths while wondering how much square footage the place was holding. With each room I entered and the longer I explored, the more bewildered I became. It was so much. Almost too much, an entirely glamorous purchase all to celebrate the day this wonderful man had decided to save me from my own ruin.

In the main room where Ian had settled while I checked out our surroundings, expansive floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a view of Central Park from the twenty-fourth floor, and I fell in love with the view, holding one hand to my heart. Ian stepped up behind me and slid his arm around my waist.

“How do you like it?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this… only read about it.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmured against my ear, still stroking my stomach “Because it’s yours now.”

“Huh?”

“I bought this penthouse for you. Just need you to sign on the dotted lines.”

He had to be joking. Had to be joking. But in the event that he wasn’t kidding with me, I started to hyperventilate a little until he turned me around in his arms.

“I need you to understand something, Leigh.” He took my face between both of his hands and stroked my cheek. “I love you.”

“I know that. I love you too, silly.” And now tears were running down my face. Thank God I hadn’t worn makeup after all, and had spent a better use of the time in flight. “But this is a lot. Ian, it’s a… it’s a penthouse in Manhattan. This has to have cost millions.”

Wait. He had millions to spend?

That realization came crashing into me all at once.

“Nineteen, but who’s counting.”

“Nineteen million!” He winced a little from my shriek and nodded. “You can’t spend this on me. You have to… oh my God, you have to take it back, or sell it, or whatever you should do.”

“Can’t. It’s the first time in my life I’ve made a truly frivolous and irresponsible purchase, and I did it for a reason. Money, Leigh… it’s just a thing. I’ll always have it. That’s never going to change. I busted my ass, I made smart investments, and I risked my life until I had enough money to found a private security firm used by rich people across the world. I don’t talk about this with you because I know how sensitive you are about my wealth.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “You’re really rich.”

“Really rich,” he confirmed. “And I love you so much that I want to share everything I have with you. Not just because your breasts are stupendous”—they were not, he was such a liar—“your ass is amazing”—it was just okay—“and your legs are fantastic.” Okay, I’d give him that one. Years of volleyball playing and then a few years of physical therapy for my injured knee since our marriage had made them runway-level perfect. I could probably leg model if I wanted to, like Tina Turner. “I don’t care if you make twenty-five dollars an hour or twenty-five dollars a month. Be a stay-at-home mom, make your own business—I don’t care. The money I spent today means nothing compared to how I feel for you. I donate this much to charity every year, sometimes more. It’s a pittance.”

Nineteen million dollars on a Manhattan penthouse at the top of a five-star hotel was a pittance. I turned my head enough to kiss his palm. “Ian, it’s just so much.”

“It is. And it’s worth it. I didn’t work over forty-five years of my life to sit on a pile of money I can’t spend, baby. Like I said, I earned every penny I have, and if you help me use it, all the better. If I can step away from some of my obligations, I’m going to need you to meet me in the middle.”

Dammit. He had a point. “Ian, it’s just so hard… half the people in town think I married you for the cash. I’m just a gold digger to them.”

“They’re going to think it whether you spend my money or not.”

I really hated when he was right. “I know, but…”

His thumb skimmed my lower lip. I kissed it out of habit. “You’re trying to think of excuses because you know I’m right.”

“I am.” I glanced at the room again. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Since Christmas last year. Honest. That’s about when I realized I was really beginning to work too much. This place used to belong to Senator Orville, but he needed to downsize.”

“You bought a multimillion dollar penthouse from a senator?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Got it at a steal since he owes me a few favors. He’d listed it for thirty-five, but I reminded him about that time Nadir took a bullet for him.”

I told myself I wouldn’t hyperventilate in front of him on our anniversary in the living room of our nineteen-million-dollar second home.

“You know, a beach house might have been more suitable,” I joked.

“I bought one of those in Hawaii.”

I waited for him to say he was teasing. He didn’t.

“Ian…”

“Hm?”

“Tell me you’re pulling one over on me.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I am. But if you ever want one, say the word.”

Letting go of my natural proclivity to penny-pinch would be difficult, but for him, I made an effort. “Let me get accustomed to the enormous penthouse before we buy beachfront property.”

His golden eyes lit with delight. “If you must. I’m willing to let you take it in baby steps. You can start by carrying a debit card to our joint account.”

“What if I make completely frivolous purchases and buy hundred-dollar leggings?”

“I like the way your ass looks in leggings. Please do.”

“Be serious.”

“I’m dead serious.”

Since he wasn’t joking about me running wild with his bank account, I decided a few overpriced leggings from Australia weren’t a bad way to shop once we were home again. “Okay. Now what, though?”

“Now? Now, we go wherever you want. My only mission today is to spoil you rotten.”

We hiked through Central Park, visited the Lindt store for chocolates—some for me to eat during our visit, some to take home to Sophia and my friends who were crazy about chocolate—and made a stop at Tiffany’s to admire breathtaking works of art I could never afford.

An associate saw me eyeballing a key-shaped pendant too long and moved closer, wearing a plastic smile on her face.

Did I dare to even look at the price?

“Good day, madam. Interested in anything?”

Ian moved up behind me and slid an arm around my waist before glancing down through the class counter. “That’s nice.”

The end of the platinum and rose gold Tiffany key featured an abstract bird silhouette in pink diamonds. Maybe it was a songbird, I couldn’t tell what, but I liked it and wanted it desperately.

“How much is this one?”

When I asked, the woman slid the hidden price tag into view. I gasped.

Far beyond my price range. I couldn’t justify spending a small fortune on a piece of jewelry I wouldn’t wear every day.

But if I did spend that much on a piece of jewelry, I’d definitely wear it every day.

“She’ll buy it,” Ian said.

When I gave him a dubious look, he removed his wallet, took out a matte, black credit card, and slid it to me. My name was on it.

It had my name on it already. Instead of asking how long he’d been carrying it around for the moment I decided to make an extravagant purchase, I took the card and slid it to the lady. “I want it.”

“Excellent choice, madam.”

We visited the other floors of Tiffany & Co’s flagship store, discovering fine china on an upper level. I bought a ducky bank for Sophia and two elephant banks for Nandi’s twins. Eventually, I topped off the visit with a pair of Elsa Peretti sterling silver champagne glasses for myself.

Ian didn’t utter a word about the price. Since Tiffany’s would deliver my purchases to the penthouse, we took a romantic stroll down the streets and caught Wicked at Broadway.

For years, I’d wanted to watch a Broadway show. I spent most of the night with tears in my eyes, just one breath away from sobbing.

I didn’t deserve Ian, and I did, because I’d fought my way back to the top and even without his help, I would have somehow pulled myself together again. And even if we couldn’t have babies, it meant everything to me that he wanted to remain in my life. I hugged him tight once we were outside on the sidewalk.

“What was that for?”

“For making this day special.”

“I’m not even finished. Where to now?”

“I’m starving. One second. Sasha told me to text her if I needed dinner recommendations.”

I tapped out a message to her. A few seconds later, a photo loaded onto my screen of Sasha with wild bedhead, resting a little bundle of joy on her chest. I grinned.

Sasha: Obao if you’re in the mood for Vietnamese. Please bring me chocolate from the Lindt store.

Me: Already did it, chickie.

Sasha: Get the dessert, too. It’s amazing.

Me: Which one?

Sasha: All of them.

Another brisk walk through the Manhattan evening took us to our destination, a narrow building. We traveled beneath dimmed lights into a crowded room filled with small tables. The people beside us were close enough to touch elbows. Despite that, the place had a romantic sort of charm to it, and a friendly atmosphere. After beef phở, I devoured the most delicious chocolate mousse cake covered with pistachio and apricot crumbs. Ian just grinned at me from across the table.

“Would I be right to assume you want an Uber or Lyft back to the hotel?”

“You’d be so right. Otherwise we aren’t getting there without you carrying me.”