I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series) (42 page)

Youth’s the season made for joys,
Love is then our duty;
She alone who that employs,
Well deserves her beauty.
Let’s be gay,
While we may,
Beauty’s a flower despis’d in decay.

Let us drink and sport to-day,
Ours is not tomorrow.
Love with youth flies swift away,
Age is nought but sorrow.
Dance and sing,
Time’s on the wing,
Life never knows the return of spring.

After reading the poem three times over, I concluded Trevillo, with these Time-themed poems, was trying to convey some sort of message about seizing the day.

Carpe Diem.

However, I was still confused about what he
really
meant. Set on finding what the man was about, I pushed back my chair and started in the direction leading out to the beach front. He said he would be on the beach.

When I stepped through the sliding doors and out on the deck, I saw him, just standing there on the deck with his hands in his pockets, facing the doors instead of the ocean, as though he’d been waiting patiently for me to come out.

He said nothing, and I watched him as he watched me. He was wearing white linen pants, with a white shirt buttoned half-way up to his chest, the sleeves folded up to his elbows. Barefoot, his hair was damp and brushed back from his face, just like mine.

And
, he was the man I was madly in love with.

I spoke first. “We need to talk about the meaning behind your trail of poems, roses, and feathers.”

The corners of his lips tipped up ever so slightly, but he didn’t address my words. “Take off your sandals.”

At first, I scowled at him for ignoring me. But I looked at his handsome face, the contentment not there an hour ago, the fire swirling in his blue irises, and I knew I would forever do anything he asked of me.

My sandals were off in a nanosecond.

Hand held out to me, he commanded, “Come here.”

Hesitation was no longer allowed where this man was concerned, so I moved at the tail of his command to go to him. He took both of my hands and brought them up between us, setting them on his hard chest. Locking me into an intense gaze, he whispered, “Remember, you are chosen,” and promptly turned to walk us out onto the beach before I could even ask him what
that
meant.

Gnawing my lower lip between my teeth as we walked along the shore, I watched my feet press through the sand while contemplating how to broach telling him his temperament was both wearing me out and confusing me.

Trevillo was silent as ever, until I felt his hand starting to grow tighter around my fingers with each step forward. I could feel his agitation seeping through my own pores, so I glanced up at him. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, and when I followed it, my heart stopped beating.

Then my feet stopped walking.

Then my eyes stopped blinking.

Then my brain stopped working.

Trevillo stopped and closed his eyes, and it seemed we stood there immobile for a lifetime. When he opened his eyes and turned them to me, they were drowning in desperation, desire, love, and unbridled need.

“Please,” he whispered, raw and vulnerable.

Lost for words, I could only stutter, “I-I … we just … how can we? … I-I-I … ”

He took my left hand and brought it to his lips, then whispered, “Carpe Diem, Krissan.
Please
.”

The supplication in his eyes showed he didn’t just want this, he
needed
it. Yet I was flabbergasted, unsure of how to respond. It was all so sudden. So quick. How did I respond? Did I want this? Of course I did!

But,
now
?

Sighing, Trevillo lowered down to one knee as he pulled a small black box from his pocket and flicked it open. A stunning sapphire ring flanked by two colorless diamonds sat inside a slit of red velvet, beckoning. I couldn’t help the soft sob that escaped me.

A nervous habit of his, he rubbed his forehead before beginning, “I’m no good at this outpouring of feelings thing. Which is why I resorted to poems. And even that took a shitload of work and research.”

Despite the situation, I giggled.

He continued, “All I know is that I love you, Krissan Kingston. That I choose you. To be mine. Forever. To share my life with me. Forever. A friend of mine recently told me dickheads like me only get one chance at love. I’m a major fucking dickhead who doesn’t deserve even
one
chance. But I got one, nonetheless. I got
you
. And I want to seize the day. Marry me, Krissan Kingston. Be my wife. Be my forever. Be my chosen.”

With tears escaping from my eyes, rolling down my face, I asked, “You couldn’t keep your proposal clean and swear-word-free?”

His smile was hopeful. “Then I wouldn’t be me. This is me, Krissan. Have
me
.”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I sought to be realistic. “You haven’t thought this through, Trev. You’re a mega-billionaire, and I haven’t signed a prenup.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at me in disappointment. “Oh, I’ve thought this through. A lot. And you haven’t signed a prenup because
I don’t want you to sign one
.”

“That’s ludicrous! How can you — ”

“Listen,” he said with a bit too much force. Noticing this, he stopped and rubbed his forehead, took a calming breath, then tried again. “Krissan, you are
not
signing one. You don’t get the meaning behind being chosen, do you? It means you are
it
. I’m never going to leave you. I’ve been all. Seen all. Had all.

“I’m not being cocky here, but nothing in this world is a mystery to me anymore because I’ve owned it, governed it, and gave it all back when I found you. You are what I’ve been unwittingly trying to find. And now that I’ve found you, I’m never giving you up. If you decide to leave me, then you wouldn’t deserve half of what I own, you’d deserve
all
of what I own. You’d deserve my life. You could take it all. Because if you leave me, that would be my
end
.”

Pausing, he watched my tear-stained face and quivering lips for a minute before continuing, “So, Krissan Kingston, will you marry me?”

All of a sudden, I burst into exuberance and gushing tears.
Carpe Diem.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
Yes
!”

Trevillo flashed a relieved smile as he got up to his feet and yanked me into a tight hug, complaining to the top of my head, “I can’t believe you kept me on my knees that long. The shit men have to go through … ”

Giggling like a dumb blond, I smacked his chest. He didn’t put the ring on my finger, but I figured that was because we were going to get married, like,
right now
.

Using his thumbs, he wiped the tears from my face and asked, “Ready?”

With a grin, I nodded, “Ready.”

Fingers laced together, we resumed our walk down the beach, a walk leading towards a flower archway. Beneath it was a priest clutching his Bible to his chest, Lovello and his pregnant fiancée, Axia, standing on the left, and Natalio and his wife, Sadie, standing on the right. Both couples were dressed in all-white, like Trevillo and me.

This was some surprise. I didn’t have the slightest hint they’d flown here, too. Planned this.

Now I understood why Trevillo had been so off and anxious. He was nervous about this. About asking me and how I’d react. Then I thought about how he pulled this off. Whether feigned or real, he had to be confident I would say ‘yes’ for him to plan this out so precisely.

I had to ask, “Were you just going to walk me down the aisle, sans proposal and get married?”

Trevillo chuckled, hard. “If you would let me, yes. I dreaded that down on one knee part. Shit like that gets a man’s nerves wreaking havoc, I’ll tell you that much.”

I laughed. This man. “You are so …
different
.”

“Nah, babe.” He shook his head. “I’m just me.”

As our feet hit the aisle of red carpet which was sprinkled with white rose petals, I couldn’t contain my excitement.

I was getting married!

My family and friends were going to be pissed they were excluded, but with my overly religious parents and bitter ‘brother’, I wouldn’t have preferred this any other way. Trevillo knew that. He
knew
me, and that was one of the main ingredients to a good relationship. His parents or friends weren’t here either, just his two brothers and their partners, as witnesses.

When we finally reached the priest, Lovello stepped out and patted Trevillo on the back. “Congratulations, man. I thought for a minute she was pulling an ‘Axia’ on you.”

His fiancée smacked him and narrowed her eyes.

Lovello looked at her, all innocent. “What? I’ve yet to receive a freakin’ wedding date from you.”

“Our baby isn’t even here yet!”

Trevillo held up a hand to stop their bickering. “Hey, hey! This is my wedding, okay? Could you two just chill with the bullshit for at least ten minutes?”

Natalio grumbled from the other side, “Christ. I’m tired of hearing them argue about this wedding date shit.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sadie mumbled beside him.

Natalio looked to her, confused. “What? What the hell did I do to you?”

On the other side, Lovello sulked, “I’ll stop when she gives me a date.”

I looked back to the right as Natalio, frowning, tilted Sadie’s face up to his, saying, “Baby, speak to me. What was that comment about?”

Sadie slapped his hand away from her face. “Leave me alone.”

The couple on the left regained my attention with their scuffling, and I watched as Axia pushed up against Lovello with her pregnant stomach jutting between them, threw her arms around his neck and engaged him in a rather deep, inappropriate kiss. “We
will
get married, Pretty Boy. We will.”

As Natalio started to say something to Sadie, Trevillo shouted, “
My
fucking wedding!”

Silence.

The priest tried stifling a laugh, while Trevillo scowled.

Sadie stepped forward and handed me the bouquet of red and white roses she held, “You’re exotically beautiful, Krissy,” she complimented. “And you aren’t even wearing make-up.”

“Thank you.”

The priest, a stocky man with squinted eyes, watched us for a while. Then, clearing his throat, he said, “Okay, now that everyone’s quieted, can we proceed with a clean, bicker-free, swear-words-free wedding?”

We all looked at each other, then in unison, we answered, “Ready.”

A
rmed with a bottle of ‘03 Petrus Pomerol and two polished wine glasses, Trevillo strode out of the kitchen and back out to the beach front, where his wife — wow, it felt good to say that — was lying in the sand, staring up at the moonlit sky’s peppering of ubiquitous stars.

As he stepped off the deck, he stopped and, curling his toes in the sand, he watched her for a minute. Simple as the sight was, it made his heart skip one, two, three beats.

She was now his wife.

He was now a married man.

She was now Krissan Nelson.

He was now her
husband
.

Trevillo shook his head at the reality of it. Surreal, but he’d never been happier. He felt as if the weight of a crashed, mangled, flaming train was shoved from his shoulders.

Over the past couple of days, he’d been a nervous shit-wreck. Anxiety had him gripped by the balls and refused to let go. Consumed with what this trip would lead to, its purpose: making Krissan his, legally and eternally. He worried over what to say to her, how he would say it, if she would think he was insane for springing this on her, and worst of all, if she would turn him down. He could deal with anything else but
that
.

He knew she thought his reticence and aloofness was on account of what happened. To some extent, it was. But his impending wedding was the main reason for his behavior.

What happened had affected him, a lot, yes. But he’d been over it since the second she walked onto his jet — glowing, fucking incandescent. And in that moment of silence when they’d gazed at each other, his heart, his love, his goddamn cockhead expanded to widths and lengths he couldn’t begin to fathom. Confused at the sudden onslaught of emotions, he’d frozen up, acting like an overused, worn-out asshole and almost lost her.

Now, after all the bullshit, she was lying here on his, uh, their beach with a million dollar ring on her finger and a new surname.

He knew both their families and friends would be pissed as shit for being excluded from their special moment. But that’s exactly what he wanted it to be:
their
special moment.

He wanted her to himself throughout it all. Not the interrupting friends and families with their inane rules about not seeing the bride before the wedding. Not the big, puffy dresses, the chit-chattering, the fussing, and all that excitement. He wanted everything to be just about them, in their most natural, unadorned state. Plain, real, authentic. Just as they were.

The handful of family members he
did
invite as witnesses almost ruined it with their inability let his and Krissan’s moment be
theirs.
He almost regretted inviting them.

It certainly proved his point. Just imagine what could have happened if he’d invited everyone.

Laughing to himself, Trevillo shook his head and made his way through the sand, resuming the short walk to his wife — fuck, he just loved saying that.
His wife.
Will it ever get old?

Nah, he doubted it.

Stopping at the blanket spread out beside her, he set the items in his hands down on it, rounded to the other side and laid down beside her, leaning back on his elbows.

Eyes trained up to the sky, her features were relaxed and content. This was one of her beautiful moments — she’s always beautiful, of course — but sometimes, like now, she was flat-out radiant.

“What’re you thinking about?”

It was a question he always tried to stop himself from asking each time he looked at her, fearing he might sound like a whipped sissy. But he constantly wondered what went on in her head, what she thought about, where her mind spent most of its time. Was it always on him? Her music? Him? Her job? Him? Her family? Him?