Always Alchemy: The Ever After Book (Alchemy #6)

7. Sexy Secret Service Agents

7

SEXY SECRET SERVICE AGENTS

DEX

I used to hate secrets.

It’s more than that.

I used to fear secrets. I was fucking terrified of them. Of their power, their insidious toxicity, their ability to shatter lives.

Their presence meant darkness; their absence meant light.

Now, though, I have a really good secret, a seriously juicy one that’s building and building and threatening to tear me apart in the best possible way. It helps that I’m guarding it for all the right reasons, and it helps that I’m sharing it with Max (and not just because he’s a devious, diabolical shit who revels in this stuff).

My newest secret involves the incredible woman lying next to me, a brilliant-cut diamond of epic proportions, and a giant leap of faith.

I lie here on my side, taking her in .

The way the softly diffused light of this Italian morning makes her glow.

The new freckles, the ones that have appeared since we turned up at Lake Como.

The softness of her hair, which is currently pale pink. It looks like cotton candy, in the loveliest possible way, and it brings to mind a naked, debauched Marie Antoinette.

The sheet is pooled around her hip, but I can only see one of her tattoos right now—the swirling, intricate D on her waist, appropriately enough. She’s lying on the M .

I’m enjoying having this secret from her. Rather, I’m enjoying the anticipation of that moment , of how it will feel and what she’ll say and how copiously Max will weep. It makes every little thing feel pregnant with promise. In a minute or two, when I can’t bear the throbbing of my morning wood any longer and I wake her, I’ll move inside her, all the while knowing that we’re on the cusp of asking her to marry us.

It even makes lying here with her feel special. Max has slipped out to source endless roses for our proposal. He didn’t trust the hotel to sort it, so he’s got one of the drivers to take him to some early morning flower market. I’m pretty sure the team at this sumptuous hotel can sort anything it puts its mind to, but that’s Max for you.

Anyway, it gives me a rare moment alone in bed with the woman who will hopefully be my wife soon, and I plan on making the absolute most of it.

She’s exhausted, though. Her new dance studio in Hammersmith opened a few weeks ago, and it’s going great guns. While Max tossed and turned all night—probably nervous about our proposal—Darcy slept like the dead on the other side of me. The intensity of getting the studio up and running and then launching with a full schedule of classes has really taken its toll.

Thank God I’ve only got one more month at Loeb. Working one’s notice isn’t really done in this industry. They usually shut down your email account and kick you out of the door as soon as you tell them you’re going. But, given I’m not going to a competitor, and as a gesture of goodwill on my part after a far shorter tenure than I know Thum wanted or expected, I’ve stayed on for three months to smooth the handover to my successor.

From next month, I’ll be taking the helm at Rafe, Zach and Cal’s hedge fund, Cerulean, helping Darce with the operational side of running a small business, and possibly, hopefully, planning a wedding.

I shift on the crisp white sheets, and she stirs. Watching her surface, return to consciousness, will never lose its allure. I’ll never forget that first sighting of her—the want that hit me right in my solar plexus, the intoxication of her scent, the tinkle of her laugh, and the white-hot fury that coursed through my veins when I discovered that some dickhead had planted a great big love bite on her neck.

The universe certainly has a sense of humour.

Loving Darcy is easy. She makes it easy. She’s dazzling and genuine and so bloody lovable. Sensual. Plainly comfortable in her body and her soul and her desires in a way I was not brought up to be. She draws people in so magnetically they can’t help themselves but fall, and thank fuck Max and I have her to temper our intensity and shine her sunshine.

This feels like a magical little interlude, this moment in time when we haven’t asked her, and she hasn’t said yes, and we haven’t yet embarked on the next stage in our relationship. We’re in a swoony kind of limbo where the world is our oyster and the possibilities for the kind of future we three can forge together are endless.

Planning for a proposal inevitably leads a man to dwell on what comes next. After the wedding, I mean. Let me tell you, Max and I have been having all sorts of baby-related thoughts recently. Seeing Darcy teaching little girls and boys to dance, seeing her shine her light on them, seeing quite how eagerly they flock to her and how easily, how naturally, she engages with them, from goofing around to excellent cuddles and endless patience, only leads to one—persistent—train of thought.

She may have just turned twenty-six, but she has an ageing boyfriend—not me, clearly—who’s pretty fucking broody, so she’d better watch out.

(Even if I can’t help but think someone had better explain basic biology to Max, because if he goes for her arse as often as he does, all she’ll be popping out are baby versions of me. Just saying.)

My knuckles make a featherlight trail down over the soft, soft skin of her stomach, and she smiles in her sleep.

My wife, I mouth silently to myself.

DARCY

With two boyfriends, I’m no stranger to the joy of a good massage (especially because they almost always have happy endings). But that sweet Italian lady was seriously strong. I feel so light I could float up into the air like a balloon.

The boys booked me this massage as a treat, and it turns out I needed every single moment of it. Teaching five-year-olds how to dance isn’t exactly strenuous in itself, but running a business full time is, and I’ve been knackered and not a little wound up this spring.

I finish applying my makeup in the spa’s beautifully lit changing room. I haven’t taken too much sun, but there’s a dusting of freckles across my nose and cheeks that Dex seems obsessed with, and my shoulders are golden. The boys told me they have a surprise for me before we dine alfresco on the gorgeous terrace that overlooks Lake Como. What it is, I have no clue, but it motivates me to take my time brushing black mascara over my lashes and dusting shimmery illuminating powder onto my collarbones.

My dress for this evening is long and silver. It goes perfectly with my new pale pink hair and is both supremely classy and outrageously sexy. I give myself one last appraising shimmy in the mirror before heading upstairs to the penthouse. Max claims he booked it because it had the biggest bed in the hotel, but we know he can’t help spoiling us. If he has an opportunity to indulge me and Dex, he always takes it.

I smile to myself as I get my key card out. I wonder if they’re ready for dinner yet, if they’re hanging out together on our private terrace, looking debonair and fuckable, or whether they’re still fucking each other in the shower.

My mind drifts back to sex with Dex this morning—sleepy and intense and so stunningly intimate. The memory of how he pinned my wrists above my head as he moved inside me assaults me. From the moment I opened my eyes, he was looking at me like he couldn’t believe I was real. Honestly, that man is too good to be true.

They both are.

I walk into the penthouse’s lobby and through to the main drawing room, my brain trying to compute what it sees as I do. My boys, both in black tie, both so beautiful it hurts my heart. They’re just standing there, waiting for me, smiling at me, their hands crossed over their crotch areas in a position that makes them look a bit like sexy Secret Service agents.

Behind them, around them, all I can see are white flowers. Masses of them, arranged in vases and spilling out of wine buckets and strewn on tabletops. Their incredible scent fills the air.

I put down the tote bag carrying all my stuff and gape at them. ‘What’s going on, guys?’ I ask in a shaky voice, because this is something big.

Max holds out his hand. ‘Come here, sweetheart.’

I drift over, and Dex’s smile gets wider while Max’s face grows more serious. Max snags my hand and squeezes it, his thumb rubbing my knuckles.

‘We have something to ask you.’

My heart stops. I look between them. I can’t explain the feeling I’m getting, except to say it’s like my heart is melting and oozing heavenly warmth throughout my veins. Thicker than blood—more like treacle.

‘Is that so?’ I ask, my voice shaky to my ears.

They glance at each other, and then Max releases my hand so they can both sink to one knee in front of me.

Oh my God.

Oh my God .

They’re kneeling on the thick pile of the rug, their perfect, wonderful faces upturned and their eyes on me. The love is radiating out of them. It’s tangible.

I put my hands over my mouth and nose like I’m crafting an oxygen mask. I think I need a paper bag.

Dex reaches into the inner breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a little black velvet box, and I burst into messy, preemptive tears .

‘Hey,’ Max says. ‘Here, sweetheart.’ He holds out his hand, and I wipe my cheek before taking it and letting him squeeze it. ‘Dex?’ he prompts.

Dex smiles at me, and it’s the smile of an angel. He opens the box single-handedly without breaking eye contact, and I spy a massive, dazzling mass inside. ‘We love you so much, Darce, and we want to ask you if you’ll marry us. Be our wife?’

I can’t give them the answer I want to give them because I’m too busy crying, and now the mascara I toiled over downstairs is streaking all over my hand, and I couldn’t give a shit, because I’m so happy. I’m so happy. My heart is filling, and fizzing, and that warmth is everywhere, and I didn’t know it was possible to feel so unbelievably, completely, radiantly happy.

‘Oh, angel,’ Dex says, getting to his feet and wrapping his arms around me as Max follows and tugs us both into a big, messy hug. ‘Please don’t cry. We love you so much.’

Max kisses the top of my head, and I tilt my face to look up at him. ‘We want it to be the three of us together, forever,’ he says, his expression still serious, his eyes scanning my face. ‘What do you say? It’ll be one hell of an adventure, but I can’t imagine living without you. Him either.’ He jerks his head at Dex. ‘It would be a fucking nightmare without you two.’

‘Of course I’ll marry you!’ I say. ‘Oh my God, how could I not want to marry you?’ My voice sounds snotty, but they don’t seem to care, because they’re tugging me tighter, and kissing me, and kissing each other, and then they’re both crying, too. We stand there in this giant soppy, weepy hug, and it feels like the best, most miraculous thing in the world.

I can’t believe we get to have this forever.

MAX

The lake is a rich cobalt blue at this time of night, the various villages that border it picked out in the pretty glow of their lights. I’d have us stay here forever if I could, sunbathing and taking scenic boat trips and eating pasta as if our lives depended on it.

I’d keep them here forever, in this bubble where there’s no work and no tabloids and no one who’s not Dex or Darcy.

But if I have to return to the real world at some point, I can only tolerate doing so with them.

We’re sitting at the edge of the hotel’s terrace, away from the other diners and next to the ancient stone balustrade, tucking into excellent seafood and chilled white wine. The evening is balmy, and the air is still, and my heart is so full I can scarcely bear it. Of all the deals I’ve closed throughout my life, this is the one that makes me the proudest—and the most relieved.

She said yes. Dex said yes, too, when I proposed it to him.

‘Do you mind that we planned it behind your back?’ Dex asks Darcy, and she smiles.

‘Not in the slightest. It was really romantic. A double proposal—what girl could say no to that?’

We’ve talked about the future plenty over the past six or seven months. It’s not something we’ve ever shied away from. But I suppose Dex and I are traditionalists at heart, however unorthodox the circumstances of this relationship the three of us have built. It was important to us that we do this the old-fashioned way. And that, to us, meant a trip to Graff on Old Bond Street and a devious plan involving an Italian lake and bucketloads of flowers.

‘The plan was most definitely not for you to say no,’ I say drily, and she and Dex both laugh. She glances down at her ring again and tilts her hand back and forth so the diamond sitting on her long finger catches the candlelight. I look on approvingly. It’s a beauty—a brilliant-cut solitaire on a band of pavé.

‘Not to be that person,’ she goes on, still admiring her ring, ‘but I assume we can’t actually legally get married.’

‘Unfortunately not,’ Dex says, reaching across to take her hand. I set my mouth in a grim line, because the British government’s views on polygamy aren’t where I’d like them to be, to say the least.

‘So what shall we actually do?’ she asks, turning to me. It makes me inordinately happy that that’s her default, that they both believe me to be capable of looking out for them. Of solving all their problems in life.

‘Let’s get this straight, sweetheart,’ I say, setting down my fork and reaching out both my hands. They each take one, so we’re in a circle. A circle connected by flesh and blood and love. ‘A legally-binding marriage is just about financial and legal protection, really. It’s about tax breaks, and equitable asset splits in the event of a divorce, and custody of children, of course, as well as protecting your loved one when one of you dies.

‘We can deal with all that. We’ll take the tax hits, we’ll put some private legal agreements in writing, and we’ll redo our wills.’

‘I don’t have a will,’ Darcy offers, and I roll my eyes.

‘Of course you don’t.’

‘I’m twenty-six and childless. It’s not like I have anything to give away, anyway,’ she says, and Dex smirks .

‘She’s got a point.’

‘You’ll have plenty to give away when I’ve finished with you,’ I say sternly, and she smiles her adoring smile.

‘Don’t give me all your money, baby. You know I’m irresponsible with it.’

‘As long as you’re responsible with my heart, both of you, that’s all I care about,’ I tell them, and it’s true. Nothing else matters. We have money coming out of our ears. The financial and legal stuff is immaterial. ‘What matters is that we’re making a lifelong commitment to each other.’

Darcy frowns. ‘And kids? What happens if we have kids?’

‘ When we have kids,’ Dex corrects her smilingly, and he and I exchange an amused look, because there’s no fucking way we’re not impregnating the hell out of this woman.

‘ When we have kids,’ she agrees with a huge grin.

‘Well, one of us will be the biological father, so we’ll have full rights,’ I point out.

‘So we just have a commitment ceremony?’ she asks.

‘We have a beautiful, heartfelt ceremony wherever in the world we want,’ I tell her, ‘and when we promise ourselves to each other for all eternity, I vow to you it will be more special than any vows ever pledged in any church or town hall.’

‘And then we have a huge party,’ Dex says, looking misty-eyed and squeezing my hand hard, ‘with everyone who loves us.’

‘Your dad’s NFI, obviously,’ I say, and we all laugh.

‘Obviously. But Mum’ll be there.’

‘Yes she will.’ Lauren is a lovely woman, and I’m pretty fucking confident I won her over with my considerable charm the moment Darcy and I met her.

But Darcy’s frowning again. ‘You two should get married, though. Legally, I mean. ’

‘How so?’ I ask her, but I don’t fail to notice how my heart skips at the mere idea of Dex being my husband in the eyes of the law.

‘Hear me out. First, it gives whoever isn’t the legal father of any of our children more rights, but secondly, if you can do it, you should. I could never choose which one of you to marry, and anyway, it’s a bit meh for me to get married. We’ve been able to do that for centuries, you know? But same-sex marriage has only been legal for, like, a decade. It’s a stand you should take—if you can do it, you should.’

My heart is, impossibly, swelling even more at her generosity of spirit. ‘But I want it to be equitable between the three of us,’ I protest. ‘I don’t ever, ever want you to feel less than.’

‘Exactly,’ Dex says. ‘It changes the balance of the relationship.’

But she’s shaking her head. ‘That’s the whole point. It makes it more balanced, not less—it’s a step towards making sure you guys have all the rights you should have. It’s just a piece of paper, like you said. You get covered, and then we all make our vows together in the way that matters.’

When we hesitate, she presses on. ‘Seriously. People fought hard for this. Take your rights. And if you think there’s the slightest chance I’ll ever stand for being a third wheel, you’re deluded.’

I laugh, and Dex grins with a face full of tears. ‘We’d never, ever be that delusional.’

‘I suppose you have a point,’ I muse. ‘About the legal side of it. I hadn’t thought of that.’ I hadn’t allowed myself to think about it, I suppose, because I was looking for an equitable solution for the three of us, but she’s right.

‘You’re welcome,’ Darcy says, blowing me a kiss. ‘At least we’ve got one fine strategic brain among the three of us.’