Page 12 of Finally Forever
I leave the auto body shop that I bought from a local Frenchman who was about to go out of business. Marcel, our groundskeeper and the housemaid’s husband, told me about it when we were discussing our passions over a bottle of wine one night.
The owner, Pascal, inherited the business from his father. It’s been in the family for generations. I couldn’t let it go to waste when I could step in as a silent co-owner and save the place. Plus, it gives me something to do with my time, and Ineedsomething that’s familiar.
It’s why I let Ainsley do stuff in person with her college classmates. She needs the normalcy of it as much as I need the normalcy of working.
It kills me every time she goes out without me, even with Xavier’s protective presence. If anything happened to her, I’d die. She gave up her life for me—her freedom. She makes me happier than I deserve to be. I am forever in her debt and devoted to her safety and happiness. If college classes and meetings make her happy, so be it. I only hope it’s enough.
This lifestyle is isolating in many ways. Not that she had anyone she was close with back in the US. Her unreliable father and overbearing mother never cared for her the way she deserves, and she deserves so much. More than I can ever give her, but I’m too selfish to give her up—unless it’s for her safety. It would kill me to part from her, but I would.
It’s a short drive back to the villa. I pull through the gates to the long drive and steer the Bugatti EB110 SS toward the garage. The sports car is impractical, but it’s a passion I can’t give up. I wish Ainsley had more passions. I’d buy her whatever she wanted so she could indulge. When I met her, she was scraping by to survive. Money in her family came and went as quickly as it was made. Sometimes they were up financially, but more often, they were far down. As a result, she struggles to go on shopping sprees or treat herself, even though I encourage her regularly.
I can give her whatever she wants except for freedom, and that kills me.
I spot the SUV in the garage. Ainsley is back from her meeting. When I enter the house, Xavier finishes a call and greets me.
The man is so tall and ripped, I feel small next to him, even though I’ve regained my weight and muscle since the accident. “Everything went well?”
He folds his hands together, his legs spread in a casual ex-military manner. “No problems.”
“Did Ainsley enjoy herself?”
“I think so.” He nods. “She took an excursion to a bridal shop before her meeting.”
“Did she?” Excitement draws a smile from me. I like that she’s shopping, and for a wedding dress, of all things.
Perhaps I can arrange a private showing where she can spend the day trying on dresses. But then, I couldn’t go with her, like I usually do when she shops. Would she feel too lonely to do it alone? She deserves to have somebody with her. More than just one person. Not for the first time, guilt consumes me for the lifestyle she’s trapped in.
“Where is she?” I ask him.
The house is too big to look in the many places she could be. The art studio, where she’s been practicing watercolor painting. The home gym. The sauna, although it’s not a favorite of hers. The kitchen. Our bedroom and bathroom. The massive walk-in closet. The terrace. The pool. The list goes on.
“I believe she’s on the terrace,” Xavier says.
“Thanks.” I suspected as much. It’s her favorite place.
I drop my keys in a bowl on a side table and meander through the house until I reach the terrace doors, which are almost always open when the weather is nice.
Long golden strands blow in the breeze as Ainsley stands near the railing staring at the turquoise sea.
I approach her. “Hey, beautiful.”
She turns and throws her arms around my neck, peppering my face and lips with kisses.
“Careful,” I murmur between kisses. “Those lips are dangerous around me. They give me ideas that involve you naked in our bed, and I wanted to talk to you.”
She giggles and pulls back, keeping her hands locked behind my neck. “Talk about what?”
“Wedding dress shopping.”
Her body tenses against me. Why?
“I wasn’t prying. I asked if you had fun, and Xavier mentioned you visited a wedding boutique.” I never want her to think she’s under my constant surveillance, as challenging as that is to pull off. I want her to feel she has a certain amount of privacy still.
She relaxes a little and lowers onto her flat feet. It makes her a foot shorter than me, and she has to stretch her arms to keep her fingers locked behind my neck. Her sage gaze falls to the side, and she nibbles on her lip.
Something is bothering her.
“What is it?” I scoop her up in my arms and sit her on the ledge of a nearby planter, making us eye level, then wedge between her legs. “No secrets, remember?”
