How to Belong with a Billionaire (Arden St. Ives #3)

by Alexis Hall

And every time Caspian said, “As you wish,” it was like he was saying it to me. Of course, by tomorrow morning the enchantment would pass and it would be just a line in a book. But tonight. Tonight it was mine. And we were each other’s again.

“I’m not Anne Fucking Boleyn, you know.” “I’m sure Anne Boleyn didn’t think she was Anne Boleyn.” There was a long silence. “Are you trying to tell me,” I said slowly, “that Caspian’s going to cut my head off at some point?”

“I mean, when you were little and I’d tell you don’t run into the plate glass door or wait until the bus has gone by before you cross the road or let Rabbie lift the pan of boiling water from the stove, you listened to me. Admittedly, not all the time, but enough that you didn’t die. And now part of me is wondering…didn’t you see the door, didn’t you believe the bus was coming, did you think the water wasn’t hot? Did I not make you understand?”

And I knew I had that—would always have that—no matter how much it felt like my sky was falling down around me. I wanted it for Caspian too, even it meant he found it with Nathaniel, and not with me. It wasn’t the ending I’d imagined for us. Not the one I’d dreamed of and yearned for and nearly lost myself trying to bring about. But it was what we had. It was still our story. And that would be enough for me.

“Do you really think I would allow that pompous little puritan to keep something I’ve put so much effort into creating?” “You didn’t create him. You abused him.” “I don’t believe that distinction is as meaningful as you think it is.”

“I’m a poor little rich girl with a history of drug abuse and mental illness, and I’ve got one of the best lawyers in London. Not even I know what I’m capable of. And you”—her eyes raked contemptuously over him—“you haven’t got a fucking clue.”

Ellery pushed herself to her feet, her hands tangling in her hair. “No. No no no. This…isn’t how it’s supposed to be. He’s the perfect one. The one who never gets hurt. The one who does everything right and takes whatever he wants and never cares who he leaves behind. I’m the fuck-up.”

“But I’m afraid I need to ask you one last thing.” Her brows creased warily. “What is it?” “Do you have a frock I can borrow?”

“Cocktail or evening?” “Whatever will get me through the door.” “Leave it to me, Cinderella.”

Holding my cloak tightly around me, I plunged into the night, where George—looking very formidably gorgeous in a tuxedo and all the fixings, with a white scarf around her neck—was waiting for me in the Jag. She gave a low whistle as I tumbled into the front seat. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather save me, poppet?” I yanked the seat belt into place. “What do you need saving from?” “I’m sure I could think of something.”

Now let’s go, or there’ll be no oysters left, and then I’ll be obliged to fuck someone just to pass the time.”

“Um.” I took a skittish step closer to her. “Why is everyone staring at us?” She helped me out of my cloak and draped it over her arm, a gesture I very much appreciated, since it was some of us are getting naked soon hot in there. “Because I’m me and you’re delectable.”

“For the last fucking time,” I yelled, “nobody needs any fucking forgiveness. This stuff’s just sex. It doesn’t need to be diagnosed or explained or justified.”

“I’ve tried, Nathaniel, I’ve tried for years to be the man you wish I could be.” “That’s the thing I can’t bear.” Nathaniel lifted a hand, as if he meant to touch Caspian’s hair, but then let it fall again. “When you’re with him, you are.”

“How can you want to be with me? After everything I’ve done. Now you know what I am.” “I’ve always known what you are—you’re kind and funny and sexy and a little bit overprotective.” I gave him a nervy half smile. “But, y’know, I can live with that.”

“I never cry.” Something that, from anyone else, might have been a sniff. “I…I don’t know what to do.” “You let it happen. And you let us comfort you.” Another sound, this one perilously close to surrender. And then, at last, Caspian Hart came clumsily—warily—into my arms. I enfolded him and drew him close, his sobs muffled in my skin and his body so awkward against mine, as if it had never learned to be held.

“This,” muttered Caspian, sometime later, “is mortifying.” “It’s okay.” I petted clumsily at his hair. “It’s just, like, emotion water from your eyes. Give yourself that.” “I hate it.”

“So what does matter?” “That I’m desperately in love with you. And that, against all reason, you appear to…” I stared at him, wide-eyed and absurdly, frantically, heart-soaringly hopeful. “Say it. I need to hear you say it.” “You appear to…” He stumbled, a hand coming up to half conceal his mouth. “Arden, I’m not sure I can.” No way was I letting this go. “I…” “…you…you…love me too?”

But I also don’t want to lie to you. I seem to be quite spectacularly fucked up.” “Well”—I gave him a mischievous look—“at least you’re still spectacular. And you’re not fucked up, you just have some shit going on.”

I blinked against a veritable tidal wave of tears. “Oh God. Arden.” Caspian shot into a sitting position. “What did I say? What’s wrong?” “N-nothing’s wrong. Everything’s…the rightest it’s ever been. Of course I’ll be by your side. For as long as you want me there.” “I should warn you, that could be a long time.” Scrambling upright, I hurled myself into Caspian’s lap, flinging my limbs around him with all the dignity of an overly devoted spider monkey. Apart from a startled “oof,” he took it well.

“I wonder, though, have you forgotten the…I believe you called it a sentimental declaration that I asked for?” Ohhhhhhh. I had to fight incredibly hard against the goofy smile that tried to shape my lips. “I thought you’d forgotten.” “I haven’t.” “You might have to remind me.” He gave me an outraged look. “You just indicated that you remembered.” “Who? Me?” That made him actually growl—though there was laughter in it too. “You are a monstrous little minx.”

didn’t want to let go of Caspian, still not quite believing we were actually here, together, hoping for the same future, but I kind of had to. Partly because my nose was itchy and I needed to scratch it, but also because I wasn’t sure if George had managed to assemble her orgy and escape yet.

“You must be in a bad way, because that’s a reference so dated even I get it.”

He pulled me back into his lap, helping me curl up as small as I could possibly be within the circle of his arms. “I promise you, this is real, and I’m not going anywhere. Even if I have to fight Hugo Weaving for you.” “Do you know kung fu?” “Let’s say I do.”

I wouldn’t have imagined it was possible to miss Caspian’s emotionally challenged billionaire nerdspeak. But I had. I so had.

“Are you laughing at me?” “I’m loving you.”

He made a soft sound, a little pained, almost needy, and hid his face in my hair. “I still don’t know how to respond to that.” “I love you too is traditional.”

“I know I shouldn’t think this way but even the possibility that you could…that you could…” I glowered at him. “Say it.” “You’ve become quite demanding in my absence.” “Actually,” I pointed out sheepishly, “I’ve always been demanding.” He laughed. “So you have, my dearest tyrant.”

“I trust you. Which I hope, in time, will help me trust myself.” “You’ll get there.” I nuzzled him. “I mean, come on. You’re Caspian Hart. You consider no endeavour complete until you have not merely succeeded in it, but mastered it utterly.” “Thank you,” he said, with a rueful look, “for reminding me how completely absurd I am capable of sounding.”

I’ve never really felt that I belonged to me.” “Well, you do.” “Yes. And”—he gave me one of his shyest, sweetest smiles—“a little bit to you.” “Damn straight. Well…maybe not straight. I’ve never done anything straight in my life. But you should know”—I wagged a finger at him—“I intend to take the best possible care of what’s mine.”

“Don’t make excuses for me.” “I’ll make excuses for you if I want to, dammit.

You haven’t been infected by alien brain parasites, have you?” “Not that I’m aware of.” He thought about it for a moment. “Although I suppose that’s what I’d say if I had been infected by alien brain parasites. They would want to protect themselves.” I bit my lip, assessing the situation. “It doesn’t seem as if they’re the threatening kind of alien parasites. I mean, it’s not like they’ve mind-controlled the prime minister or the pope or someone.” “Excuse me, I’m very rich and quite powerful.” “Yeah, but all they’re trying to make you do is hook up with a cute boy.” “It’s true.” He gave a somewhat self-conscious shrug. “They’re much less concerned with wealth and worldly ambition than they used to be. Apparently their priorities have shifted towards, I suppose, being in love and being happy.”

“You want to live with me?” “At some point in the future.” “You want to live with me in this house.” “I want to live with you wherever would make you happiest.” He gazed at me, searchingly. “Did I misjudge? You’re welcome to stay at the penthouse with me. Or we could move back to One Hyde Park. Or I could buy you a mansion, or an island, or a windmill, or a yacht or—” I put my fingers to his lips. “Stop. I’ll admit I’m slightly tempted by the windmill, but this is perfect.” “You can have a windmill as well.

“since the house isn’t big enough for a sex dungeon, we’re going to have make do.” There was a long silence. Then, with a kind of studied blandness, “Do you want one?” “Nope. The whole world can be our sex dungeon.”

“You can cuff me to the kitchen table. And spank me on the sofa. And put me on my knees in the shower. And, oh”—another idea occurred to me—“can we have fairy lights? I love fairy lights.”

Caspian gave this helpless groan. And fell on me like a wild beast, his hands everywhere, stroking and caressing, marking me not with cruelty, though, honestly, I would have been okay with that too, but with love. There was very little finesse to it, especially from a man who knew my body well enough to bend me to his will with ease, just a raw desire to touch me—to feel me writhe and shake and come alive beneath his palms. “I missed you,” he whispered. “I missed you. I missed you.”

Caspian had been with me all along, spilling himself into my hand, as I had into his. It meant we were damp and sticky as we rolled into each other’s arms but I licked up most of it, while Caspian blushed, and I’m not sure we’d have cared anyway. We just wanted to be close. I stuck my nose into Caspian’s neck and inhaled. “I love how we smell together.” “You’re depraved.”

“Did you say there was a roof terrace?” I asked. “Yes, it’s…on the roof.”

All that time, waiting like a fool for an ending. When what I’d really wanted—what we’d both needed—was a beginning.