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“Oh God, no, Damion.” Her reserve falls away, and she steps into me, no hesitation in her hand as it rests on my chest. “You’re perfect. Everything tonight has been exactly what I needed. Thank you for being you, for always being there for me.”
“I wasn’t there for you for far too long. And I regret that.”
“Stop saying that. It’s the past. This is now. And we’ve talked about this. We had to grow up. If we had done that together, maybe we wouldn’t be here now. You’re my home, and you can’t possibly know what that means to me.”
“And yet, you’re not naked with me in our bed. Why, baby? What happened?”
“Nothing big or bad, I promise.” She reaches down and folds her hand around my cock, which is presently disobediently hard again. “And I don’t think you want to talk.”
“I do want to talk, which is why we’re going back to the bed, because if I stand here with your hand on my cock another moment, that’s not what’s going to happen.” I scoop her up, and her towel falls away, bubbles of delicate laughter floating from her perfect lips.
I settle her back on the bed and under the sheets with me on top of them, ensuring I don’t get distracted, which would be far too easy after she was just cradling my damn erection. “Talk to me.”
The smile fades from her lips, and she cuts her gaze. I decide the sheet barrier was a good idea, and I press my hand to her face and slide her gaze to mine. “Alana,” I say softly, the pinch of her expression telling a story I need her to turn into words.
“How do I plan the wedding of my dreams when I have no family to even invite?” The direness of her words only serves to highlight her genuine distress. “My dad is gone,” she continues. “My mother might as well be.” Her voice cracks. “Lord knows today drove that point home. And I’ve spent a lifetime living for them, working around the clock. I have no friends.”
The pain in her, the deep hurt, is like a bat beating at my emotions, each blow asking me why I didn’t fix all of this sooner. Why I left her in the first place. “You have me. And you are loved by everyone who meets you. The Walker team loves you, and not because I’m paying them. Your production staff loves you.”
“I don’t even know if I have a show anymore.”
“Baby, I got a text about the insanely high ratings of the special you did. You have a show. TV executives love scandal.”
“But your father’s powerful. Aren’t they worried about him?”
“Those execs are powerful, too. I promise you, you’re going to get a call, and a good one. Those people want ratings because ratings mean advertisers.”
“Until your father sues me and them.”
“Which you could talk about on the show, and he’d garner more unwanted attention. Your ratings are going to go up because people hope you mention the case again. And they know about me now. That piques interest.”
“That you don’t need.”
“Baby, I just need you. Now, let’s talk about the wedding.”
“Here?” she asks tentatively. “And why am I trapped under a sheet with you on top? Do you think I’m going to run to the bathroom and lock myself inside? The door was never locked, by the way.”
I laugh and slip under the covers with her, the two of us rolling to face each other, both of us with our heads on the pillows, but I’m not allowing her to escape the topic. “We own a property in the Hamptons and in London. I think the Hamptons would be a beautiful place to get married. I can take you there next weekend.”
“I’ve never been to any of those places, and you own properties in those places. Not me or we.”
“My money is your money, baby. You need to get used to that.”
“I don’t want your money, Damion. And I’ll sign something. The last thing I’m going to be is anything like either of my parents.”
I capture her hand and kiss it. “Alana—”
“I’m serious, Damion. No.”
“You can’t live the rest of your life with me that way. I have worked hard and made a lot of money. What good is it if I can’t share it with you? And you have plenty of money of your own, too. You’re not giving it all to your mother anymore. I will not let that happen. I’ll fight you on that topic.”
“You don’t have to fight me on it. I’m done being taken advantage of, and she inherited from my father anyway.”
“Not yet. She’s going to need money.” I sigh and roll to my back. “And we can’t not take care of her, but she’s getting a budget. A limit.” I turn to look at her. “And don’t say no. It’s necessary. She’ll fuck with your head over and over if we don’t do it.”
She rolls to her back as well and sighs heavily, the sound a puff of emotions that skitter about the room, and punch at the air. I lean over her. “It’s the best move, baby. We take care of her with a defined limit.”
“Maybe your father should take care of her.”
