Page 21 of The Billionaire's Buy-In

Because I don’t need him to think he’s tamed the beast, I have to tell him, “Now, don’t get me wrong, I may want to throw something at you from time to time, but it will always be out of love.” Then I wink at him. “Just so you know, I really like to throw my shoes when I’m mad.” I shrug as if that’s normal.

“You are also incredibly impulsive,” he says with an indulgent grin. “I don’t want to hold you back, firecracker. I love your spark, but I also know that sometimes I have to save you from yourself. You don’t know your own limits.”

I roll my eyes at that comment, and he swats the side of my leg. “No eye-rolling. We need to establish ‘Abbie’s rules.’ Number one being safety first,” a grim warning tone in his voice.

“Also, no sneaking into clubs without me, no dancing on tables, always wear underwear in public, and no more bets.”

“Okay, daddy,” I say obediently, with a mischievous glint in my eyes. Both of us know damn well I’m gonna break every one of his rules.

Challenge accepted.

“Daddy?” he growls, back in his sexy beast mode, obviously he’s now turned on, and successfully distracted from his list of rules. “I think I could get used to hearing that come out of your mouth.”

Oh, I can totally handle Chord Gallo. Play him like a fiddle.

“But while that is hot as hell, I really would much rather be called ‘husband’,” he says, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small box, and opening it to reveal one of the largest diamond rings I’ve ever seen.

With a slight gasp, I cover my mouth with both hands, because I have no words. All I can do is stare, tongue-tied at the beautiful ring. He’s planned for this long before today. Tears swim in my eyes.

“Firecracker, I know I said no more bets for you, but gambling is my business, so I'm willing to make one hell of a bet with you. And I’ll make it because I've done the buy-in. I'm all fucking in."

"I’m already invested heart, body, and soul. Everything I have is riding on being the best damn husband you could ever ask for,” his eyes hold mine, both uncertain and vulnerable.

I don’t like it. I want my tough guy, so I grab his face and kiss him tenderly. Hoping I’m conveying all my emotions in my kiss because I don’t know what to say.

As I break away, I look him directly in the eyes. “Yes, you crazy, controlling ass, I’ll marry you. I’ll also bet that I’ll drive you crazy every day, all day. And you are going to love every minute of it.”

He laughs as he lovingly places the ring on my finger, kissing my hand as he does so. As he gathers me tightly in his arms, his breath is hot against my ear as he whispers, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, firecracker.”

The End

Epilogue

OneYearLater

Abbie

My ass may be frying.

Known fact: redheads shouldn't lay out in the sun for extended periods of time. Especially on the open ocean, where the sun is reflecting off the water. Not a good plan; I’m turning pink, despite all the high octane sunscreen my hubby insists on slathering on me every few minutes. I need to accept the fact that I will never, ever turn the same beautiful coppery brown as my blonde friend.

Grace and I are laying out on the deck cushions of Ash’s new boat enjoying some Vitamin D courtesy of a gorgeous spring day off the Mississippi Gulf Coast. And yeah, in the South, we “lay out.” We don’t “sunbathe” like they do in the South of France or the Hamptons. We just lay out. Some days, you just need to feel the sun on your face after a long, cold winter. Granted, we do lather up with sunscreen and wear wide-brimmed hats because, duh, no one wants to age prematurely or get sun damage. I just may have been out a little too long today. The warmth of the sun’s rays are so relaxing and soothing, I can feel it soak through every aching muscle down to the bone, turning me into lazy mass of goo. As a result, I unintentionally dozed off.

“Firecracker, time to go inside. You are done for the day.” A low voice growls from behind me. Yep, I knew that would happen. Chord, my husband, has just noticed the pink hue to my skin.

“But Grace gets to stay out with everyone. That’s not fair. You know I get FOMO,” I pout adorably, knowing he’s a sucker for a good pout.

“Fear of missing out is a serious condition, guys. Don’t make her suffer,” Grace laughs because she knows I can play Chord like a fiddle. She does the same with Ty, her big hunky husband. He can never tell her “no”.

“Not working this time, ladies.” Chord shakes his head while handing me a towel. “Abbie, let’s go inside and take a nap,” he says firmly as he helps me stand up from where I’ve been lounging all day. I need all the help I can get nowadays because my balance sucks. He rubs a hand lovingly over my enormous stomach.

“You sure there aren’t twins in there?” Ty asks, handing his wife a large fruity drink with an umbrella as he sits next to her. Her drink presumably has alcohol in it. She can actually have a proper drink, which really makes me grumpy. Life isn't fair. “Grace wasn’t near that big at five months.”

Chord growls at this, probably because he knows even the most innocent statement can make me cry buckets right now. I'm such a hormonal wreck, if someone even looks at me funny, my eyes turn into a watery mess. “If you make my wife cry, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Ty!” Grace scolds him. “You don’t tell a woman she’s big! Like ever. Pregnant women know already. Don't remind them!”

He cringes with embarrassment and apologizes, “Damn, I’m sorry, but you girls are pixie size. There’s no hiding your bellies when you’re carrying our babies.” He shrugs matter-of-factly because it’s true. Ty and Chord are big guys who make big babies.

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