Dirty Little Secret

8. Tessa

tessa

. . .

As I slide into the booth across from Kelly, her eyes immediately lock onto the glinting diamond on my left hand. Her mouth drops open, a mix of shock and excitement painting her face. "Is that…?" Kelly starts, but can't seem to finish her sentence.

I nod, barely containing my glee. "Magnus proposed!" I exclaim, waving my hand slightly so the diamond catches the light more intensely.

"When? How? Details, please!" Kelly claps her hands once, eagerly leaning forward on the table.

"It happened three days ago," I begin, my heart fluttering at the memory. "Magnus took me to the little Italian place where we had our first date. Everything was so normal until dessert and prosecco came along. As the waiter poured my glass, Magnus dropped to his knee, held out the ring, and asked me to be his wife. I swear I cried until we got home.”

Kelly gasps. "Three days ago? How could you wait so long to tell me? And Christmas is two months away. How are you going to plan something so quickly?"

“Sorry, please forgive the wait. Things were kind of crazy for a few days. Magnus flew to Chicago, fired and disowned his brother for trying to ruin things between us, then we wanted to tell our families, and you know that wasn’t going to be easy.” I take a sip of water to clear my throat, prepping to tell a long story.

“Holy crap! So much drama!” Kelly moves to the edge of her seat.

“I know! First, we had dinner with his mother. Initially, I thought she was a stuffy old bird, but after a few glasses of wine, she loosened up and started pitching names for grandchildren.”

“Oh well, that’s sweet.”

I nod. “It went better than every scenario I’d played out in my head.”

“And your dad?” Kelly’s eyes grow wide with curiosity.

“My dad was far worse. He screamed at Magnus, scolded me, and then became furious with my mom for congratulating us. He’s still pissed, but Mom said leave him to her, and she’ll have him ready to walk me down the aisle by December.”

“Are you thinking about a big or small wedding?” Of course, Kelly would ask about logistics. She can’t help herself.

"We want it to be elegant but intimate—just close friends and family at The Plaza. In fact, I’m meeting Magnus at the hotel straight after lunch.” I twirl the ring around my finger, still getting used to its weight and brilliance. “Will you be my maid of honor?”

“You better believe I’ll be your maid of honor!” A flicker of something crosses Kelly’s face—a mix of nostalgia and sadness—but it's gone before I can ask.

We’ve been through so much together—it’s a happy coincidence to plan our weddings at the same time.

“You’ll need a dress, a theme, flowers…” Kelly starts ticking things off on her fingers, shifting into planning mode, pulling me along in its current. “Colors! What about colors?” Kelly suddenly exclaims. “What are you thinking about?”

I take a sip of my iced tea, buying a moment to think. “Let’s go with black and red to keep with the Christmas theme. I hate green.”

"Say no more," Kelly interjects with a knowing smile. “We'll handle everything. But first, we need to focus on getting you a dress! No arguments from you. We’re on a crazy timeline.”

As Magnus and I follow the event planner through the ornate corridor, my excitement is nearly palpable. The Oak Room is breathtaking, with its old-world charm and grandiose decor that looks like something straight out of an Edith Wharton novel. Walls lined with dark wood panels, a high arched ceiling painted with scenes of pastoral beauty, and the gentle glow from the crystal chandeliers above set the stage for what I hope will be one of the happiest days of my life.

Magnus squeezes my hand, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "It's perfect, isn't it?" he whispers, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the delicate ambiance.

"It really is," I reply, my voice equally hushed. I can already picture it—the room filled with our loved ones, the air tinged with the scent of pine and winter flowers, an orchestra playing softly in the background as we dance our first dance as husband and wife. I can’t wait.

The event planner leads us through another set of heavy double doors into a smaller, more intimate space. "This could be ideal for your rehearsal dinner," she suggests, gesturing to the cozy setting.

I nod appreciatively, already mentally noting ideas for decorations and seating arrangements. The planner discusses dates and availability while Magnus leads me toward a secluded alcove.

"Hey," Magnus says quietly, pulling me close. "I know it's all overwhelming, but remember—whatever happens, at the end of it all, we're going to be married. And this is just the beginning—every day with you is better than the last." Magnus’s words are like a balm to my fluttering heart. He’s right. No matter how intricate or simple our plans are, at the center of it all is us—our love and commitment to each other. Then, with a mischievous grin that sets butterflies loose in my stomach, he adds, "And don’t forget about testing out the honeymoon suite later.” His eyebrow wiggles comically, making me laugh out loud and echoing softly around us.

"I haven't forgotten,” I assure him with a playful smack on his arm. Curiosity about our temporary abode for after our wedding night begins to build within me. Will it feel as right and as perfect as everything else seems to be? Only time will tell.

Soon enough, the event planner excuses herself to fetch some paperwork for us to review, leaving us alone once more amid the dreamscape of our forthcoming nuptials.

Magnus encircles my waist from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. "Just imagine," he murmurs into my ear, “in two months, this will all have been just a beautiful beginning.”

“I can’t wait,” I whisper back, turning slightly to steal a kiss.

As we ascend to the upper floors of the hotel, each step seems charged with electric excitement. When we reach the honeymoon suite, Magnus opens the door with a flourish. The room is breathtaking, with panoramic views of Central Park and an elegant canopy bed. A bottle of champagne chills beside two fluted glasses, its bubbles mirroring my own rising emotions.

"Magnus," I begin, turning toward him. Before I can continue, he draws me into his arms, his warmth enveloping me against the chill that has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with my racing heart.

“Do you want Magnus to make love to you? Or would you rather have Daddy fuck you raw?”

“That’s an easy choice…” I sigh and nudge the tiny strap off my shoulder. “Fuck me, Daddy.”