Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (38 page)

I storm into my office, and there he is, my big, overbearing, bulldozer standing there, looking all mighty and powerful, gazing out onto Times Square. I love him dearly, but this time he’s overstepped his boundaries.

He’s aware I’ve walked into the room and turns, immediately sensing my ire.

“You’ve crossed the line, Michael Grayson.” I glare at him, feeling enraged.

He holds his hands up carefully. “Now . . . Ariana,” he says cautiously. “I know you’re upset, sweetheart, but this is for your own good. You shouldn’t be traveling long distances. This isn’t safe for you.” He saunters toward me, looking all hot and sexy. I go weak in the knees when he gazes at me with those blazing eyes full of love, and he’s aware of this.

“Michael, what am I going to do with you?” I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I want so badly to scream at him, but I can’t, because when he stares at me with those seductive eyes, I melt into a pool of water. This is the Greek god I fell in love with when our souls connected.

He places his fingers over my baby bump, and I dissolve into his skin. He knows what it does to me. He plays the game well. I stare at his hand caressing me, and I think back to when we had our first appointment with Dr. Morgan.

We filled out all the necessary paperwork. She drew blood, took a urine sample and, obviously, the results were positive. The nurse escorted us into one of the examining rooms. I lay on the cold table, and Dr. Morgan inserted a transducer. The sonogram screen came to life and so did the sound. Michael and I were in awe. The beeping sounds were loud and uneven. Dr. Morgan whistled and had Michael’s hair standing at attention. “What is it?” we both asked.

Dr. Morgan went over each little flashing light and sprung the news, hitting us as if a category five hurricane crushed the walls around us. We’re having triplets. Michael paled and toppled over, and thank God Dr. Morgan had caught him before he landed on the floor.

We had a nurse come in and revive him with smelling salts. He regained consciousness and asked if Dr. Morgan could run that by him again. It took a while for Michael to absorb all of this. So, this is where my problem began. This is why my overly protective man is out of control.

After finding out we are about to become parents to triplets, Dr. Morgan explained that I could go earlier than my due date, which is late July. Once Michael got wind of this, he decided it would be wise to keep the wedding small, with only the family and a few close friends. He doesn’t want to overwhelm me.

“Ariana,” he whispers, and I’m back in the present.

I stare at him, still upset.

“Michael, you have got to stop this. I understand you’re getting paranoid after receiving the news about the triples. You have to learn to relax. I need you well rested for when these babies are born.” I exhale and pace around the room. I blow out a breath and comb through my hair. Now he has me doing this. Ahhh, this man can be exhausting.

“Ariana, I can’t help it. I’m scared to death.” He brushes his fingers through his hair as he paces around my office.

I’m aware and in tune to his anxieties—his mom died at childbirth, his sister, Lara, was killed, and his fiancée died from complications of a car accident, and he came close to losing me because of Danny’s psychotic twin brother. I would be paranoid too if I lost three of the most important people in my life.

I gaze out onto the twinkling, bright lights in the sky. It’s five thirty at night, already dark, and I’m getting hungry.

“Michael, you’re exhausting and irrational. I seriously think
you
need a therapist.”

He stops pacing and glares in my direction. “I think that’s a matter of opinion.”

“Who’s? Yours?” I walk over to him and take hold of his lapels. I stare into his eyes, and I begin to cool down, showing him how much I love him. “I didn’t want to consult with a therapist, but I am now. I hate to admit this, but seeing her has been helping me a great deal. I’m begging you to talk to someone about your demons. What are you going to do when the triplets arrive? Will you be sleeping with them?”

His eyes widen like a frightened animal. He shakes his head. “I thought we would have their bassinets in our bedroom.” His grins and awaits my answer with a cautious expression over his face.

My jaw drops. “You can’t be serious, Michael. Please tell me you were playing with me.”

“I guess that would be a no.” He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

Oh, my God, help me, he wasn’t joking. My poor Michael, he seems so lost and scared. He threads his fingers through his hair, causing the strands to stick up. The poor man hasn’t slept well since the news. He wakes up to every move I make in my sleep. The dark circles under his eyes give it away.

“Michael, honey, you need help. Please,” I beg.

He plants himself down in my chair and leans back, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe you’re right.”

Holy crap, he agrees with me. My heart checks off another accomplishment on the Michael board.

“I guess after losing my . . . I’m . . . petrified something might happen to you and, or the babies.” He gets up and leans against my desk, looking all tensed and stressed out, with his jaw clenching.

I pace back and forth, and an idea pops into my head. “Michael, I just had a brainstorm. I think after the wedding.” Which is in two months, God I can’t get over how fast it’s approaching. Thank God for Michael’s father. That man has been diligently planning our wedding down to the last detail with Maria. I don’t know what I would have done without them. They are a Godsend.

“We should get away from everything, to decompress and wash away the horrible memories of the past. I’m well aware that we agreed to go after the babies were born, and your dad, Maria, and your brothers all volunteered to baby-sit. However, I have a feeling you and I are not going to want to leave the babies. Furthermore, I don’t know how they’ll react when they find out we are not having one baby but three. They might change their minds about baby-sitting.” I laugh.

His head swings back, and he bursts out with that sweet laugh of his. It is so good to hear the old Michael laughing. The past few weeks have been . . . stressful on him, well . . . since he met me. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, I’m game. Where would you like to go?”

“Hmm. How does Europe sound?” I ask and cross my fingers this flies well with him.

“Don’t you think that’s too long of a flight? I told your boss I didn’t want you to fly more than two hours. What do you think he is going to say?”

“I’ll handle Sean, and this isn’t like the twelve to twenty-four hour flights I’ve been on. I think I can manage six or seven hours. Come on, Michael, please.” I bat my lashes.

He rolls his eyes. “Where in Europe?” He questions, running his hands over my shoulders, his forehead to mine.

I gasp in surprise. He agrees to Europe. My heart and soul are dancing away, jumping up and down with exhilaration.

A big grin appears over my face. Yes, yes, yes! I’m so excited. “How does Monaco and Italy sound to you?” I ask with anticipation.

He hovers over me, his arms wrap around me, and he separates my fingers, which are crossed, the little stinker.

“If the doctor gives the okay, then we’ll go, but if she has even the slightest doubt, you’ll have to pick another destination, closer, agreed? One where we could drive.” With a lift of his brow, he smirks and flashes me his sexy grin.

I let out a long sigh. “Okay, deal.”

“I can’t wait to see the expressions on everyone’s faces when we give them the news of the triplets,” Michael says, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Shall we make an announcement after we marry?” I ask.

He flashes me a wicked grin. “Yes, at the reception. Now let’s get you home and off your feet. Joe’s been waiting downstairs for us. We also have to discuss buying a house. We will need at least eight bedrooms.”

I still. “Are you planning on having more children . . . after the triplets?” I choke out.

“Oh God no, Ariana,” he says with a fearful expression. “We are blessed with three, a perfect-sized family, don’t you think?”

“Oh, thank God, you scared me when . . .” My thoughts trail off.

He eases me into a warm embrace. “I was thinking a master bedroom for us, two offices for you and me, three bedrooms for the kids, and two additional ones for when my dad comes and visits with Maria, my brothers, or Blake and Joanne. Oh, and I guess I’ll need to add two more bedrooms downstairs, one for a housekeeper and the other one for the nanny.” He smiles.

“Where will we find a home like this?” I ask

“We’ll buy a piece of property, or I can draw up floor plans, of course with your input, to add to the house in Sands Point. That’s if you want to.”

“Oh, Michael, I love your home in Sands Point. Let’s do it,” I say, kissing him all over his face like a lovesick puppy.

“
Our
home, Mrs. Grayson. Now let’s get out of here. You need to eat.” He kisses me, places his hand over my belly, and bends down, kissing my tummy three times, one kiss for each baby, and my heart liquefies.

Chapter 36

Always & Forever

Heat begins to radiate through my chest with exhilaration as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, twirling in circles, feeling the soft material of my wedding dress caress my skin.

Joanne and Blake both chose my dress. It is a replica of Cleopatra’s gown, made with white chiffon and delicate silk draped in layers on the back and a beaded neckline with a crystal-beaded belt above the waistline. Blake instantly screamed the words yes when Joanne pulled it out of the bridal consultant’s hands at Kleinfeld’s. I can tell from the angry expression on the woman’s face that she wanted to escort them out of the store.

I lay my palms gently over our three little blessings, embracing them with love and gratefulness. I’m almost sixteen weeks pregnant. Thank God for the abundance of material covering them up. I express my gratitude, thanking God and the universe for working their magic.

I peer through the drapes in Michael’s bedroom. The ranch stands in a whirl of activity. It’s Valentine’s Day, six forty-five in the evening. My stomach is filled with nervous butterflies. I’m waiting excitedly with anticipation. In fifteen minutes, I’ll be walking down the aisle.

Tiny little lights and vivid, colorful floral arrangements and lush greenery cover every inch of the gazebo. Exquisite white lilies and red rose bouquets adorn each chair, along with softly candlelit lanterns leading down a path of rose petals to the altar, where Michael and I will stand before our guests reciting our wedding vows.

Scattered within the garden are soft spotlights, illuminated lamps, and luminescence candles nestled in enclosed glass. The barn is decorated in a Valentine’s theme with red and clear lights, red bows and white tulle. Caterers are shuffling in and out of the tent, preparing for the reception. The music from the orchestra echoes through the garden. Everything appears magnificent from up here, like a fairy tale.

Lights ornament the long, tree-lined road leading to the mansion. The valet staff works diligently to park the overflowing stream of vehicles progressing in. The estate stands embellished with a munificence of Valentine’s décor.

The chairs are nearly occupied with guests. Michael and I specifically requested a small reception of one hundred and fifty. Although his dad, Jacob, tried to keep the list short, unfortunately, many family members and business associates got word about our wedding on my show.

Michael almost had an aneurism after hearing the news broadcasted on the air to millions of viewers, and I came close to having a heart attack. I have a nagging suspicion Sean wanted to get back at Michael for his little list of demands. My boss has always been a fair man, and he knew enough on his own not to send me off across the country due to my condition. According to his wife Jennifer, being dictated to doesn’t seem to sit well with him.

The guest list started out small and now it escalated to five hundred and sixty people. Unfortunately, this created a bit of tension between Michael and his dad. Michael’s over-protectiveness over my health and the babies had him on edge from the moment we found out about the triplets. He thought being encircled by so many guests would overwhelm me.

His father understood wholeheartedly. Regrettably, thanks to my boss going public, it was out of his hands. Jacob swore to Michael he would watch over me as a hawk watches over their young. If he even detected the least bit of fatigue on my face, he would haul me off to rest. I had to laugh. Not only do they resemble one another, but they also share the same personality.

I placated Michael and convinced him I am in my second trimester and bursting with energy. The doctor confirmed my diagnosis, and Michael finally surrendered, but pledged a promise. If I so much as appeared pale, drained, or tired, he would say his goodnights to our guests and carry me off.

I jump out of my skin when Blake calls out my name. I turn away from the window to see Blake and Jacob standing near the doorway, both dressed handsomely in their black tuxedos and burgundy ties, matching the girls’ dresses.

“Ariana, you’re . . . radiant.” Jacob chokes out, all teary-eyed. He walks over and gives me a gentle hug this time. “I’d give you my bear hug, but I don’t want to mess you up.”

“Thank you,” I say, swallowing hard and fighting the urge not to cry.

“Ariana, you look like a goddess, love,” Blake adds and kisses me on the cheek.

“Are you ready to become Mrs. Michael Grayson?” Jacob asks with elation.

I nod, and both men extend their arms. Originally I had planned for Blake to give me away, but I thought it would be just as special to have Jacob walk down the aisle with us. I needed to do something special, especially after all the hard work he and Maria put into planning this wondrous day. He was bursting with joyful tears.

We walk out of Michael’s bedroom, arm and arm, down the marble staircase. Flashes of cameras blind me momentarily as the photographers begin snapping pictures. Michael hired extra security to keep the paparazzi from crashing the wedding. We do, however, have our television crew setup to tape our wedding. Apparently our fans wanted a glimpse of one of their favorite TV personalities getting married to one of America’s wealthiest bachelors. This came as a shock to me when our studio received an abundance of mail and e-mails from our viewers requesting a sneak peek. Well, Sean and I couldn’t turn them down. Michael didn’t approve of the idea at first, but after inviting him to the studio to read a few of the letters, he agreed enthusiastically.

The girls are screaming and wowing me, which makes me blush from all the attention. We reach the grand foyer, and Joanne, my maid of honor, comes barreling toward me, dressed in her long fitted navy blue gown, which she chose for herself and the girls to coordinate with mine. Mandy, Jackie, and Cheyenne wear matching gowns in a burgundy color.

“You are glamorous.” She chokes on her words. She kisses me gently on the cheek. “Your headpiece is amazing, and the veil . . . it’s breathtaking, girlfriend.” She swallows as her eyes glaze with tears.

“Thanks, Joanne.” I take a deep breath, getting all choked up and not wanting to cry. Joanne stayed over one night when I pulled out my mother’s headpiece from one of the boxes I had stored away in my closet. The delicate open headband is dramatically detailed with rhinestones and Swarovski crystal flowers, giving you the impression of cascading vines. The veil is embroidered with beaded scallops on the borders, which rests behind my French twist.

The orchestra and pianist begin to play “Trumpet Voluntary” by Clarke. Mandy and Willie progress arm and arm, followed by Jackie and Josh, Gabriel, Michael’s nephew and his Aunt Cheyenne follow. Joanne walked down by herself and will be paired up with Michael’s best man, Trent. Yes, I had something to do with that. Michael planned to ask Josh, but after everything he’s done for me, I convinced him to ask Trent.

The music piece blends to the wedding march. I shiver, and the men flanking me—Blake on my left and Jacob on my right—each give me a gentle squeeze with their strength and love. The guests begin to stand, and all eyes are focused on me. Everything evaporates the moment I lay eyes on Michael, looking exquisite in his Armani black tuxedo, white shirt, and silver tie. His eyes gleam with pure love, passion, and affection, the love I’ve dreamed of for so long.

I’m trying to walk faster, but my two escorts are slowing me down. I can’t wait any longer. I stop halfway down the aisle and kiss them both on the cheeks. I say thank you and run to Michael, holding my dress in one hand and my bouquet of lilies in the other. I hear gasping and comments coming from our guests.

“You go, girl, run for your man.”

“Catch her, Michael.”

Michael entraps me in his arms as I jump on him, embracing him with all my love and anticipation.

“Whoa, easy, sweetheart.” He laughs, spinning me once around and places me down. “Ariana, you’re beautiful, like a breath of fresh air.” He flashes me his drop-dead, sexy smile.

Everything else becomes one big blur. We go through our vows, and before I know it, I hear the words. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

I bite my lower lip, waiting anxiously for our mouths to join. His sweet, soft lips press against mine, sending tingling sensations throughout my body. I go from reality to a dream state, floating on air. I’m Mrs. Ariana Grayson.

Our guests stand up, and loud claps, whistles, and cheers erupt from the crowd. Michael takes hold of my hand, and we walk down the path covered in rose petals, leading us, our bridal party, and our guests into the tent.

The band begins to play. This is our first dance as husband and wife. Goose bumps form over my entire body when I turn to see who is singing our song, “Thank You for Loving Me.” My knees go weak. I’m pressed flush against Michael, and he chuckles. I gasp and have to blink several times for this to sink in. Jon Bon Jovi himself is singing.

“Michael,” I squeak out. “How did . . . how did . . . ” I’m rendered speechless, in a state of shock. “How did you get Jon Bon Jovi to sing at our wedding?”

“I did the architectural drawings for his home as my final project for college, pro bono. When I called him and asked if he would do the honors of singing our song, he said yes, only if we accepted his presence as a gift. Are you surprised?”

“Oh, Michael, yes, thank you, thank you, thank you,” I squeal out, kissing him over and over.

Once he finished singing our song, I rush over to Jon Bon Jovi. I wrap my arms around him, kissing and hugging him so many times Michael has to pry me off him.

“Oops, sorry, I lost myself,” I say, and Jon laughs at my enthusiasm.

“You most certainly did, Ariana,” Michael voices with a hint of jealousy.

I glance at Michael. “I’m sorry . . . you know you’re my true love.” I bat my lashes at him, and he is back to smiling again.

I go back to conversing with Jon Bon Jovi. I still can’t get over he’s here, at my wedding, singing our song. “You were wonderful, thank you so much,” I say almost wanting to jump up and down with joy.

“You’re quite welcome. It was a nice surprise to hear from Michael. When he told him about his upcoming marriage to his true love, and asked if I would sing your wedding song, I couldn’t say no, especially since the song was one of mine.” His eyes could melt the Antarctic continent.

“Thank you, I appreciate you coming on such short notice and rescheduling for our wedding. I hope you can stay for the duration of the reception and enjoy yourself.” Michael gestures to the party.

“I will thank you. I wish you both a long, happy, and healthy future together,” Jon offers to both of us and gives me one last kiss and hug, with a handshake for Michael.

I finally land on earth after being suspended on the clouds from my wedding ceremony and Jon Bon Jovi singing at our wedding.

A gentleman in his early forties approaches us. “Michael,” he calls out with an English accent.

Michael turns, and a big grin appears over his face. “Mark, I’m happy you made it.” Michael says, smiling.

Oh my God, this is his partner. I never had the pleasure of meeting him. The man is on the constant run overseeing the sites of their hotels. I’ve always pictured him to be much older. He’s handsome. Built like Michael and his brothers with short blond hair and brown eyes.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I’ve never seen such sparks in your eyes,” Mark comments and looks at me.

“Mark, this is my wife, Ariana,” Michael says, introducing us. “Ariana, my partner, Mark Anderson,” he says proudly, and Michael’s eyes beam brightly at Mark. You can see they’re more than just friends. They’re like brothers.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mark. I’ve heard such wonderful things about you and how you mentored Michael. You’re remarkable,” I say, shaking his hand.

He embraces me gently, kisses me on both cheeks, and pulls me away. “You’re more beautiful in person than on television. I don’t know what possessed you to fall for this big goon,” he comments, chuckling.

“Watch it,” Michael orders, placing his arm around my waist.

“He knows I’m kidding. You couldn’t have ended up with better gentleman. I can see how much he loves and adores you. He’ll cherish you always,” Mark says.

I glance at Michael, and my heart begins to bubble over. I face Mark and say, “I feel the same way about him. Thank you for coming. It was such a pleasure meeting you.”

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Mark embraces me one last time with a kiss. He turns and gives Michael one of those big men hugs and pats him on the shoulder.

“Well, Mrs. Grayson, are you ready?” The time has arrived to go public with our news. Michael and I go over to our master of ceremonies and request we have a few minutes to make an announcement to our guests.

“If I can have everyone’s attention, please,” Michael announces. Voices lower to whispers and all eyes are on us. I spot Blake, Francis, Jonathan, his girlfriend Jasmine, Sean and his wife Jennifer sitting at the same table to the left. Their eyes fill with happiness. I can’t wait to see the shocked expressions on their faces.

“Ariana and I want to thank you for joining us on this special evening.” Loud applause erupts in the tent.