Page 129 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
“I love you,” I whispered as I wrapped my arms around his waist. I rose on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his. I couldn’t stop touching him, feeling him against me. He groaned as he cupped the back of my head, his tight grip betraying his desperation.
“I love you too,” he murmured, his lips hovering over mine. “So much. Living without you was just existing, but with you—it’s fucking thriving.”
A soft sigh escaped my lips at his beautiful words. “So much time wasted.” I sighed.
He kissed the edge of my lip. “Let’s not waste any more. From this moment going forward, we start living.” When I pulled away to find his eyes, he smiled with a smug expression in his gaze. “All I ask is that you don’t take the job at George Washington Hospital.”
I frowned. “Why?”
He grabbed my chin and dropped his forehead to mine. “Because I’m a jealous and possessive prick.” I couldn’t help my lips twitching at that admission. “And I tend to go overboard when it comes to you,” he admitted in a whisper. “Trust me this time, baby.” He pressed a sweet kiss to my cheek, his touch lingering. “I have better things in store for us. My sole purpose in life is to make you and our children happy.”
God help me, but I trusted him to come through with his promise.
Chapter52
Odette
As we strolled into the White House, we heard the announcement and the smattering of applause, as though we were celebrities.
Byron didn’t even flinch while my shoulders tensed, and I let out a tight breath. Instinctively, my hand came to twist the large diamond necklace around my neck. It was my second time wearing it, and it still sparkled like all the stars in the sky.
My husband squeezed my hand.
“They are just people.” His smile was sweet. Comforting. “Most of them are jackasses, so just ignore them. And remember… You’re an Ashford. Practically American royalty.”
A strangled laugh left me. “Humble much?”
This time, he grinned. “I came with a queen. Why would I be humble?”
His tone was smooth and warm, like vintage red wine.
A coordinator waved us through the grand room. We made our way across the enormous stone balcony—slowly, thanks to my heels and dress—and when we came to the top of the stairs, Byron’s hand gripped my waist, stopping us.
Murmurs and whispers traveled through the air, every pair of eyes on us, and my heart raced in my chest. I hated being the center of attention, and at this moment, hundreds of faces were turned in our direction. It wasn’t just the local political world, there were celebrities and socialites from all over the world. Some I recognized—thanks to my sister—others I didn’t, but there was no mistaking them with average working-class individuals.
“Mr. and Mrs. Byron Ashford.”
The voice boomed from the speakers and the applause broke through, filled with cheers and whistles.
I peeked at Byron. “Very subtle.”
He gave me a charming smile. “Nothing about this place is subtle, baby.”
No shit.
My husband’s hand remained around my waist as cameras flashed, but I kept my eyes on him. It was a better option than staring back at all the unfamiliar gazes.
“You ready for this shit show?” he said under his smile, his lips barely moving.
I scoffed softly. “No.”
Byron offered his arm and I took it, while grasping my full skirt with my free hand. I might have thought the dress was too elaborate, but I was glad for it now. All the dresses I’d picked out were beautiful, but subtle. And like Byron mentioned before, there was nothing subtle about this party.
My chin lifted, and we made our descent down the staircase, its stone steps covered with a plush red carpet. You’d think we were celebrities, not just little old me and—I peeked a look at my handsome husband—not-so-little Byron.
We wandered over to the gardens where tables had been set up on the lawn around an intimate dance floor. Festoon lights hung overhead, giving the space a warm glow while diamonds and dresses glittered beneath.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “Tax dollars at work here.”
