Page 138 of Painted Truths

“Alex. Brother. You are going to kick ass and take fucking names, yeah? And if you need me, I’m only a couple of hours away. So look—how about I talk to Liv and see if we can make our U.S. trips fortnightly for the next few months while you get settled? Might that help?”

I can almost feel the tension leave his body at my words, and he concurs wholeheartedly with my plan before saying goodbye.

“That’s great, Martha. I look forward to going through those proposals with you.”

I can hear chatter coming from my head of Human Resources on the other end of the line before Liv giggles melodically. “No! Of course, I haven’t forgotten dinner with you, Ted, and Father Thomas on Friday. Neither of us has.”

Popping a brow in my direction, I know that she knows I had absolutely put all thought of dinner with Martha, her husband Ted, and the legendary Father T out of my head within moments of hearing said plans.

“Mm-hm, wouldn’t miss it! We’ll see you then. Bye!”

Ending the call, Liv plops down on the opposite end of the couch before gently placing her fluffy stockinged feet on my lap. My Peaches loves her comfort items, like these ugly-ass pink socks and an ugly-as-fuck yellow ratty old t-shirt that she likes to sleep in whenever I haven’t successfully managed to orgasm her to sleep.

It’s got a hole under one of her tits, showing just a hint of curvature. And all the stitching is gone from the hem. I even think it was white in a previous life, but still, she insists on keeping it.

And what Liv wants, she gets. From me anyway. I’d give her anything she asked for, but in true Olivia Parker style, she doesn’t ask for much, and she expects even less.

Having known almost from the start of her employment of Liv’s ability to manage an office and her infectious enthusiasm for a job well done, I’d asked her a little over a fortnight ago if she’d like to run a new division of DeMarco Holdings for me. Something my mother had always spoken about but never gotten around to. Martha had confirmed my vague memories when I had gone to her for advice.

She’d jumped at the chance, delighting me with her passion.

And so, the non-profit Katherine’s House was born. Liv had, of course, insisted on calling it after my mother, and honestly, I didn’t put up a fight. It’s the perfect way to remember the woman who gave me life while handing it over to the woman who gives me life.

Martha is also balls deep in the planning aspect, as is Ted, a retired attorney, and only too willing to pitch in at any and all opportunities.

Of course, Liv’s first port of call had been to the man who I’d heard so much about.

Father Thomas Vasquez of St Fintan’s parish was absolutely nothing like I’d imagined him to be—just an inch or two shorter than my own considerable height, bald with a neatly kept light brown moustache and bright hazel eyes twinkling with such irreverence I couldn’t help liking him on sight.

His first words to Liv and me, alongside his slow, mischievous wink, had cinched the deal.

“A pretty face gets old; a nice body will change, but a good woman will always be a good woman.”

They had spoken tirelessly about a great many things, not only the development of a worthwhile non-profit, in those first weeks, but most importantly I believe it was due in no small part to Father T’s help and encouragement that Peach was able to accept that her parents deaths were in no way her fault.

That was something I don’t think I could have convinced her of singlehandedly—Alex either and, for that reason, if no other, we’ll always be grateful to the man she views as more of a father figure than her biological one.

There had been many contenders for this first non-profit. And, although I haven’t yet told her she can start as many as she damn well pleases, there was only one that held my Peaches’ heart. When she’d suggested a homeless intermediary service where inhabitants of St. Fintan’s and surrounding shelters in London could go to get back on their feet, I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud. And once registered on the service, the team at Katherine’s House would work on re-homing and rehabilitating their lives.

Her face shone with light, love, and a vivacity that I wanted to see from her each and every day as she ran with the project of her heart.

Plucking the flower from my grasp, she holds it under her nose, breathing in the delicate scent before raising her smiling eyes to mine.

“Martha said she’s found a building not too far from St. Fintan’s. Father T put her in touch with the developers. Isn’t he the best? Because then, we’d be within the same area the lodgers are used to being around. We’ll view it next week, but I think I’d almost take it now, sight unseen, just from the specs and proximity alone.”

“I think it’s a great idea if that’s what you want, Peach.”

Pulling the socks from her feet and tossing them to the floor, I massage the arch of her foot as she straightens her leg, a groan of pleasure escaping from between her teeth and sending a spark of desire straight to my already hard dick.

It’s been like a rock since the second I walked off the lift and drank in her delicious essence.

I rub harder before skimming one hand up along the back of her calf, drawing lazy circles as I slowly climb higher. Her skin pebbles with goosebumps I’ve put there with my touch as I continue my ascent, our eyes locked, gazes unyielding.

Skimming my fingertips across the soft placket of her underwear, I tut as a devilishly filthy smile graces my features.

“Soaked through, Peach. Whatever shall I do with you, my naughty girl.”

Raising her delicate chin in an act of defiance, making me work for her in a way that I adore, she pulls no punches. She nibbles on that plump lower lip and gives me the biggest come-fuck-me eyes I’ve ever seen before tossing the rose onto the low coffee table beside us.