A Harem of One [The Moreland Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) (27 page)

“Marq, you don’t know about my history, but I nearly killed a man.” She couldn’t look at him, only ahead of her into the trees, but she felt his heartbeat speed up. Even though she had to rip the scab from the years old wound, the pain wasn’t fresh, and just a mere echo of what it used to be. The moment had arrived for all of her sins to meet the light of day. “I grew up in foster care, and the years I spent there were less than kind. Not to me, or the other children around me. I remember days where I dreamed of having my dad come back to me. He loved me, and everything he did was to take the best possible care of me. But looking back on it, I didn’t appreciate him the way that I should have. I used to be so ashamed. Dad was a simple man, and he didn’t see the need for fripperies and fashionable clothes. I didn’t either, until I got a bit older and girls around me stopped liking me. They laughed at my hair or what I wore, and played mean tricks.” Jamison paused to take a much needed breath. Her heart beat a furious pace, and her palms prickled with nervous sweat.

“I had been begging him to buy me a particular pair of shoes that all of the cool kids wore. But he was a janitor in the mornings at school and worked in an ice plant in the evenings, and money was a tightly held commodity. To make a long story short, he finally gave in to my demands and was coming back from the mall with the prized Keds when he was killed in car accident. After he died, I was bounced from one foster house to another before I finally ended up with a nice couple. The father was a deacon in the church and a mechanic. His wife taught Sunday school and kindergarten. They were so nice at first, and I hoped to stay there until I turned eighteen. I only had about fifteen months until then, so it didn’t seem impossible. One day when I came home I found the father had an unusual afternoon off. He attempted to rape me, and I stabbed him in the back with a knitting needle. He nearly died that day, and I would have been a murderer in deed and not just in thought. The state paid me hush money after a lengthy trial. That’s where the money you invested came from.” Marq never spoke and merely held her against him. But for all of the calm his posture behind her exuded, his heartbeat was that of a hummingbird, and she could imagine the organ beat so profusely it bruised his ribs.

“That’s not your fault, Jamison. Almost every child reaches a stage where they give their parents a hard time. In fact, it’s called puberty. You know that you’re not a murderer. Any person that attacks children should die alone somewhere in a brutal manner. Children are made to be loved and protected, not used or abused. If anything, I feel angry for you, and I wish he were still alive so I could pay him back for what he tried to do to you.”

“So I take that to mean you already knew.”

“I found out a few days ago, but yes, I knew it.” He wouldn’t let her pull away. Marq held her as close as he could to him, even though she made a halfhearted attempt to move.

“But, Marq, knowing all that, why me?”

“What do you mean why you? Why do I love you?” She nodded once.

“Well, why not you? You are intelligent, which is a major turn-on by the way, and the way your mind works makes me hard. You are mysterious without trying to be. You are so sensual and open for me. I love the fact that you are independent and that, despite bad circumstances that would make a grown man fall to his knees, you persevered and thrived. Plus, you are a beautiful woman, and I plan on taking you off of the market so no other man can claim you. And let’s not forget that you are oh-so flexible.”

“Marq, the circumstances that make up my life are not pretty, and I don’t understand the family dynamic. I don’t know if I can be what you deserve.”

“All I want is for you to be who you are already. The only changes you’ve made in the month we were together were superficial and had no bearing on how I saw you as a person beneath the skin. I’m not asking for a cookie cutter family. My last name isn’t Beaver or Brady. We don’t have to be the Huxstables or anyone else. We just have to be who we are and know that we can be perfect for each other. We deserve to be happy together.”

What could she say to that? Not a damn thing. It had been many years since anyone loved her for her and not as a cash cow for a stipend or tax deduction or a thing to be used until sapped of any value and cast aside. If she had the sense god gave a bird, she’d take this incredible man up on his offer and toss her hesitations to the four corners of the world. Why not? She’d watched her friends fall head over heels while she remained apart and alone. With Marq, she’d belong to him and vice versa, and nothing or no one else had to matter.

Jamison did catch her flight, but the destination ended up being different than she planned on, and Marq was right beside her. She vehemently refused to allow him to upgrade her seat, and Marq was forced to not only endure the indignities of commercial flight again, but he was forced to ride in hobo style, as he called it, in coach-class seats. She didn’t make him, but he let her know that in no uncertain terms were they going to be separated any more than they already had. So she ended up with a passel of complaints the whole way. But even with his petulant attitude about their seating, they spent each flight side by side, held hands, and gazed in each other’s eyes at erratically placed moments.

It wasn’t her fault the man in front of them on the first connection decided to have chili pre-flight, and even the terrible smell of his gas wasn’t enough to tarnish the shine of being with Marq. Nor was she responsible for the guy across from them on the second connection. The tow-headed male carried a duffel bag full of ginseng root and talked about his plans for his wife when he got to her nonstop. But even that was okay with her, as she had a multitude of plans for her man when they landed as well.

They flew back to Wilmington and arrived to sunny skies with proudly puffed clouds, even though Jamison had planned to stay in sunny Jamaica. But for some reason Marq had a wild hair up his ass and told her that she was to go nowhere without him. Once they landed, he had her at his mercy. They were back on the road, and when he passed the exit for downtown and his condo, she was perplexed. But he wouldn’t provide her with any clues and kept their destination to himself.

They made their way down the road only to cross a bridge and continued on the same street, which was unimaginatively named Bridge Road. The isle was small and seemed more of a spit than a true island. The sign on the way in proclaimed the area was called Eight-Figure. Most of the houses there seemed to be valued at roughly that amount, Jamison thought with a laugh. They pulled into the driveway of a large house, and Marq opened her car door for her. The house was a blue gray, with a circular drive banded with hedges and numerous windows all spanning the side of the home. Although, manse was closer to accurately describing the immense size of the domicile they looked up at. It was only a fraction of the square footage of the family manor, but there was plenty of room, for a football team.

“Follow me.” Marq held his hand out.

“All right, who are we going to see?”

“Stop being so impatient, Jamison.” He took her hand, and she walked behind him. The house was empty. Only a handful of drapes covered the immense expanse of windows that spanned each wall. There was a ridiculous amount of space. She could fit the eleven hundred employees from her old job on the property and still have space to mill around in. There were three floors that made up the main portion of the house. The entry where she stood currently exposed the full height of the house and the curved staircase that led to the upper floors.

“Who lives here, Marq?”

“I don’t know. Depends.”

“On what?”

“Do you like it?” No way. Could he mean what she thought he did?

“Yes, of course. Who wouldn’t? Even if I haven’t seen all of it yet.” It didn’t matter what the rest looked like. She was sold at the beauty of the entrance alone. As he walked with her, she saw the house was fully refurbished and modern. There was an elevator, but Marq did mention a second one somewhere. There was even a dumbwaiter that stopped in the kitchen and laundry room.

“Come with me and take a look then.” She passed a kitchen that even Gordon Ramsay could find no fault with. The ultramodern space was completely outfitted with stainless steel and granite, plus it boasted two separate freezer drawers, along with the two freestanding kitchen islands. She even guessed she could sleep in the sink, it was so deep and large. Just to furnish the house would be a job in and of itself. When they reached the backyard, there was a large swimming pool and a small patio with a hot tub. The opposite side of the house was nothing but fence to hide the owners from the beach just a scant handful of feet away from the edge of the property. The neighbors to the left and right were closer than she would have personally preferred as the yard was much longer in area than wide. But otherwise, she was in love with the man and the house.

“So, what do you say? Do you want this house?”

“Yeah, I think I would be a colossal jackass to say no.”

“You haven’t seen the bedrooms yet.”

“Wow and it comes with bedrooms, too? I would happily sleep in the sink.”

“That would be a problem considering.”

“What?”

“That I won’t fit in there with you. So I guess what I’m saying is will you take the house? Although it does come with a snooty, overbearing man who enjoys sex a bit too much as part of the package.”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not there is a rock to go with it.”

“Yeah, about that. I did find a really nice one, and I thought of you when I saw it.”

He pulled something from his pocket. When he opened his hand, there was a plastic egg in it. It was one of the ones she used to get from the grocery store when she was a kid and her father was still alive, and later ADD in memorial. Jamison didn’t realize she wept until she tasted the tears on her lips.

“Jamison Melrose, will you marry me?” He handed the pink capsule out to her, and she cracked the halves open and exposed the rock she’d just requested. It was a large chocolate baguette cut diamond, and the band was paved with smaller versions of the larger stone. She nodded, and he pulled her close, held her until her breaths were even.

“So about the house?”

“Yeah, Jamie, baby?”

“This is where you want to live?”

“Yeah, I would rather not live in Fort Fisher. I think my brothers have that on lockdown, plus we can be alone here.”

“Marq, you can be an asshole, you know that right? But you had me sold anyway, so I may as well not play coy.”

“Yeah, but you love it. And I’m glad you like the house because we already own it. Or will own it in a week when the sale finishes closing.”

“You were that sure of yourself?”

“Nope, I was that sure of you.” He smirked, and Jamie elbowed in him in the ribs and she made sure the jab of joint in his chest hurt. Marq merely winced and laughed gamely.

“So you want to christen some of these rooms with me and your new rock?”

Jamison laughed and agreed with him. “Yes, let’s.”

They started in the kitchen, his cock was inside of her and rampant. Then he picked her up, and they tested the strength of the dumbwaiter next.

Jamison’s wedding was elegant perfection. It was simple, meaning small, per her request, and there were only forty guests. The ceremony was beautiful, and she married the man of her dreams in front of the Hollywood sign in a vintage Chanel gown chosen by Marq and jeweled flip-flops she chose for herself. Her best female friends were her bridesmaids, and the woman that was always a bridesmaid was now the bride. Jamison had no idea how he got permits or even any form of permission for something so over the top, but that was part and parcel of her husband, the eccentric man that he was.

Duke and Jergen both attended and stood on the bride’s side of the aisle. As she didn’t have any family left, she felt lucky and blessed to be adopted by so many wonderful people who cared about her well-being and needs. Her friends were her family now. The most memorable part of her wedding was in the vows. Marques promised the usual, fidelity, honor, love, and to cherish her. But he also promised that he now had a harem of one. While she promised to love, honor, and satisfy all of his needs in her vows back. Once they were announced as man and wife, Marques kissed her so thoroughly that there was no doubt that he was just as elated as she was about their status change. That night they made love for the first time as man and wife, but unlike most newlywed couples, there were several cameras rolling for posterity in their rented chateau in the Alps to capture the moments within.

THE END

www.bookstrand.com/jennifer-willows

Who is Jennifer? A thirty-something single? A mother of two of the most bratty, beautiful kids ever? Well, she is all of that and more. Jennifer is still fixing mistakes by day and falling in love with her novel heroes at night. She hates juggling, but she seems to be quite good at it, and as a consequence she has thirty projects going at once. Actually, she is quite bland and not in a mysterious way. Lately, she has found herself fending e-mails and writing as much as she can. Occasionally, she gets a wild hair up her keister and wears her afro out. As always, her fascination with procrastination keeps her from getting her website together, but one of these days… But if you would like to talk to her, feel free to send a shout-out to [email protected] (or send a request to the same e-mail on Facebook), and she is on twitter @wildinthewillow.