ACE: Las Vegas Bad Boys (24 page)

“Fuck me, Ace. Oh, fuck,” I say, gripping his shoulders as he thrusts into me, his cock going in me so deep, so fast. It sends a rippling through my walls that soon mounts into a rushing wave. A current I can’t suppress. Each time he enters me, deeper and harder, the crash sends me moaning into his chest.

“It’s so good, Emmy,” he says, as we both come. My body shakes; his hard cock pulses. Both of us are completely washed in pleasure.

“You fuck all the girls like that?” I ask, a smile crossing every inch of my mouth. I feel so fucking good, so alive. Taken care of in a way I never thought possible.

“I only fuck the women I intend on marrying that way.”

“So lots, then?” I pull up my leotard, covering my breasts.

“If
lots
is one, yes.” He pulls up his pants, buckles his belt. It was a quickie, but it’s one I’ll never forget.

“Is that a proposal, Ace Royalle?”

“What if it was?” he asks.

“I’d say you have some work to do on it.”

“Noted.” Ace smiles. “I’ll work on it then, and you work on your answer.”

“Got it, Boss.” I smack his butt before pressing the button that raises the screen.

I sashay away from my lover, grinning like a fucking fool.

O
n the car
ride to the hospital all I can think is that I need to propose to this woman in a way that makes her know I mean everything I’ve said. That I am hers.

She holds my hand, beaming. She has that effortless Emmy Rose smile on her face, the smile that is full of promise and understanding. The smile that says there is a lot of fucking shit to deal with, but she’s not letting it drag her down.

She’s still standing.

Emmy Rose is a fucking rock. Solid and sure in a way I don’t think she even knows. In a way I will spend my life showing her.

Before we get to the elevators, I see Mark.

“Hey, man, everything okay?” I ask.

“Great, actually,” Mark says. “Janet’s been moved to the recovery floor now. It looks like she’ll be home with me in a few days. Her surgery went much better than expected.”

“Oh, shit, that’s fucking great,” I say, pulling Mark into a hug. Because, yeah, I may be a bad boy, but I have a fucking heart.

And Mark has done nothing but look out for me. He was right about the property, but I didn’t fucking listen. In the future, I’ll hear him out.

We say good-bye before taking the elevators to Janie’s wing. The silence that envelops us grows heavier with each floor we pass.

“You okay?” I ask, squeezing her hand.

“Janie and I just left on really bad terms ... and even if she is the one that put Grotto behind bars, she’s also the one who told me to fuck off. She’s still the one who never wanted me here.”

There isn’t much I can fucking say to that, so I don’t. Sometimes women need the strong, silent guy. So right now, I’ll be that for her.

We walk out of the elevators and immediately we know something is wrong. Emmy’s hand tightens in mine. Nurses come toward us; I see a doctor being paged. I see the room Emmy entered before, to check in on Janie, is closed.

“We’ve tried to call,” the nurse says, as the whole hospital becomes a blur.

“My phone’s been gone since I was taken in the van,” Emmy mutters, trying to understand.

Doctor Matthews meets us, pats Emmy’s arm. His words are a stream of syllables that begins and ends with death.

“Sepsis ... infection ... organ failure ... downhill fast ... tried to call ... it was a matter of minutes ... addiction ... loss of strength....”

Emmy hears the words, and I hold her up as she nearly loses control. Words that make her dizzy, make me spin as I try to keep up with what is happening. With what has been said.

Janie is dead.

Tears stream down Emmy’s face; hollow cries escape her mouth. My woman, who was beaming like a lovesick fool a moment ago, is now holding her heart in her hands as it threatens to crash to the floor.

I grab it, hold it tight. I won’t ever let it motherfucking go. I won’t ever let Emmy fall alone.

I scoop her up in my arms as she clings to me like her life depends on it. And maybe right now it does.

* * *

T
he shit with my family
—the memories of my past—courses through my veins. It’s been a few days since Janie’s funeral, and still, every time I think of it, think of Emmy no longer having a family, it makes me fucking excuse myself so I don’t bawl like a fucking fool in front of everyone.

And everyone has been so good to Emmy, to us. My boys keep bringing food and sitting around my living room talking bullshit, as Emmy sits with her legs tucked underneath her, a blanket over her lap, not really present, but not gone either. She’s a thinker, my Emmy Rose, and I know she isn’t gonna process by talking shit out for days. She needs to come to her own conclusions about what Janie’s death means.

Claire and Tess are here too, bringing her Starbucks and just sitting with us guys, trying to be normal. Or, at least, our new normal.

After a week, real life sets in. Jack has a show back east, McQueen has a trip to see his parents in the mid-west, and Landon has met with Stacy a bunch of times to figure out if the property Grotto lit up is salvageable and if we can still purchase it.

Looks like it’s a go. Apparently Landon’s parents are requesting he come home in a few weeks for a family pow-wow, and so he’s trying to wrap up the deal before he goes.

Claire and Tess are back at work, and that leaves Emmy and me.

I still have some business to take care of though.

I leave the penthouse, promising Emmy I’ll bring back dinner, but knowing I’ll be bringing back more than that.

I meet Landon at one of his father’s stores,
THE KING’S DIAMOND
, which has surpassed Tiffany’s blue box with its status. Any woman in the world would want to get married with a King’s Diamond on her finger. And sure, Emmy may be down to earth, but she’s still a motherfucking girl. She’ll get her panties wet when she sees what I’ve picked out for her.

“You sure that’s the one?” Landon asks, as I hold the black box in my hand.

“No question.” I just paid an ungodly sum for that rock. But I know it will be worth it. Emmy is worth anything. Everything.

Landon looks at me as I pocket the box. When I nod, he adds, “I can’t believe it. A bad boy like you getting down on one knee should be a sight to behold.”

“Yeah, well, you never know when you’re gonna get blindsided by love.”

“You’re a pussy, Ace. I’ll never fall like you did. Tonight I’m gonna find a piece of ass and enjoy it. Because tomorrow I’ll find myself a new one. That way, things never get old.”

“Your loss, asshole.” I get in my car and head for home. Knowing that sooner or later, when he least expects it, Landon is gonna find himself a woman that changes everything.

I sure as hell did.

* * *

I
’m getting out of the shower when Ace comes home.
Home
. When did this penthouse become my home? Somewhere in the space of a week, this became the only place I wanted to be.

“I’m getting dinner ready,” he calls to me. “No rush.”

“Okay, babe.” I pull his robe around me, because, really, his robe is one hundred times sexier than anything I own—and then there is the small detail that I actually don’t own a robe.

I actually don’t own a lot of things, I’m realizing. At some point I’m gonna need to return to Washington for my things, but for now I’ll be content wearing Ace’s terrycloth.

I run a comb through my hair and sigh contentedly. The tears have finally dried, and my memories of sitting with Janie in the hospital for two months don’t feel so raw. Because I was hanging onto a sister for two months that I never really had.

Am I sad that she died? Obviously. She was my flesh and blood. But she also let go of me a long time ago. I’ll never know if she confessed her part in Grotto’s crime because she wanted to make things right with me or not—but I don’t need that answer. If I knew the truth, nothing would change. She would still be gone.

And I would still be here.

“Smells ... familiar,” I say as I walk in the kitchen. The stainless steel and granite space still amazes me. I’m so used to dingy white Frigidaires and laminate, and everything Ace owns is a luxury I never dreamed of having for myself.

Claire says I need to stop gawking, and Tess says I am the luckiest girl in the world. I’m trying to listen to my girls. But as I walk into the kitchen and see that Ace is making us peanut butter and Nutella again, I smile. It may be a state of the art apartment, but deep down, Ace and I are very much alike. This stuff—the house, the cars, the money—is extra.

I just need Ace and a jar of Jiffy.

Well, and that whipped cream wasn’t half bad.

“Made you dinner,” he says.

“Thanks baby.”

I sit down on a barstool and take a gooey bite, moaning as I do.

“Like it?” he asks.

“Love it.”

“What else do you love?” he teases, coming behind me and wrapping his arms around me.

“You, Ace. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says, spinning me around on the stool. When the stool stops, Ace is on one knee. My hands fly to my face.

“I may say I’m a bad boy, but you’ve made me a man. I know we’re both alone in this world—we have no family, no ties—but, baby, I want to be your family. I want to put down roots with you. I want to make our own motherfucking family tree. Emmy Rose, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” I say, gasping, as tears fall freely down my face. “Oh, Ace, a million times, yes.”

He pulls out a black box, opens it, and reveals a giant rock that is just too much. Too gorgeous and too perfect.

“I had the solitaire set in rose gold. Because you, Emmy, are my rose.”

I fling my arms around him and plant kisses on his mouth, his cheeks, his neck. Knowing I am going to keep planting them on his body for the rest of our life.

Our life.

Because that is what it will be.

Ours.

* * *