Page 63 of The Bourbon Bride

“It’s actually quite convenient. I own the building and the club only needs the first two floors. The third with that huge rooftop was just right for a place for me to stay when I'm in town for business.”

He parks the Maybach and I see my pretty AC Cobra still parked and undisturbed a few spots away. It reminds me of the many Saturdays I spent helping Daddy restore his prized classic cars and the feeling of elation I had when he gave me my own for my birthday. It feels like a year ago that I fled Sunday dinner and found myself running away with Hayes, despite it only being eight days that have passed.

He opens my door and helps me out of the car, our bags already in his hand.

“What made you decide to put in the greenhouse? Elysium is incredible, but it’s not exactly run of the mill for a nightclub.”

“Exactly. Having the garden made this place more exclusive and far more special than any other nightclub in Georgia.”

“But why did you pick Savannah? This club seems more fit for the Atlanta crowd than a touristy, slower-paced small city.”

I hit the button for the elevator for him since his hands are full. I have to fish out the special keycard to get rooftop access from Hayes’s pants pocket. I’m tempted to keep my hand in there and fish for something else, but my lady bits are a little sore, so I shouldn’t start something that’ll lead to more sex.

“My brothers and I have smaller corporations under the Olympus International umbrella that lean toward our interests. I like good alcohol, a decadent nightclub people are vying to get into, and expensive cars. Savannah had the history and architecture I wanted for a project like this, and it’s become somewhat of an attraction in its own right. Besides, it’s nice to take a short flight and get the hell away from my brothers and the stifling scrutiny of Atlanta.”

“The Atlanta Haute List sure seems to like you.” I smirk and exit the elevator ahead of Hayes.

“That fucking gossip site is the bane of my existence. They seem to have a special fixation on my family and are always looking for dirt on us. Usually, Zander is the subject of their interest, but you and I have made their radar and are at the top of their current list, unfortunately.”

I unlock the door to his flat and hold it open so he can put the bags down inside.

“Have they written more about us?” My heart races thinking of the things Mama has probably read about us.

He stops me from entering the flat by circling my waist with his arms and hauls me back against his chest before I can step inside.

“Don’t you dare walk through that door. I’m carrying my bride inside.”

I pop my hand on my hip and laugh at his insistence.

“You already did that when we got back to Atlanta.”

“Every threshold to a home I will share with you requires my due diligence to ensure a happy marriage. Don’t question my Southern breeding and the traditions I cherry-pick as my own, dear wife.”

He lifts an eyebrow at me and barely contains the smile that wants to burst forth.

I laugh and hold my arms out for him.

“As long as you admit that you pick and choose what traditions you follow, I’m fine with it.”

He scoops me up and carries me inside, kicking the door closed behind us, and walking across the flat to set me down on the bed, crawling up beside me.

“There’s something about you that makes me feel a little more traditional. I’ve never cared much for the way things were done, always looking for the way that worked in my favor instead. You make me want to be so much better than that.”

“You’re far more romantic than you give yourself credit for, you know that?”

“Absolutely not. All lies,” he jokes, his face screwed up in a comically bad pout.

“One, you’ve gone out of your way to accommodate me when you didn’t have to, including housing, feeding, clothing, cuddling, and bedding me.”

I wiggle my eyebrows at him and he cracks a smile.

“Two, you wrote the most beautiful marriage proposal poem any Southern belle has ever received.”

I flutter my eyelashes and sigh, getting a chuckle this time.

“Three, you insist on following traditions to ensure a happy marriage.” I tick off each point on my fingers as he grudgingly nods his agreement.

“You, my love, are a bona fide, heart on your sleeve, lover of grand gestures, sappy, romantic.”

---