The Striker: Chapter 55

Two months later

“Since it’s our six-month anniversary, I could technically make you tell me where we’re going,” Scarlett said. “I’ll say it’s my anniversary gift. You can’t deny me that, can you?”

“Nice try, darling, but if you waste your gift asking me about the surprise, you won’t get the surprise itself,” I said, amused. “And trust me. You’ll want the surprise.”

“This is torture,” she grumbled, but I heard the curiosity in her voice, even if I couldn’t see it in her eyes.

I’d secured a silk blindfold over them before we left my house and remained steadfast against her attempts to make me crack. I hadn’t spent months planning tonight’s date to ruin it at the last minute.

Our footsteps echoed against the marble floors as I guided her through the entryway and up the lift. Our destination was on the third floor, and I wasn’t going to risk taking her up three flights of stairs when she was blindfolded.

“Ooh, a lift.” Scarlett perked up at the sound of the doors sliding closed. “So we’re probably not going to a restaurant unless it’s one of the ones in the Shard or something. Are we in a hotel? Museum? Harrods?”

I stifled a laugh. “None of the above. Stop trying to guess, darling. You won’t get it.”

“Well, now I take that as a challenge.”

Of course she would. Her competitiveness was one of the things I loved about her.

But, as predicted, Scarlett couldn’t guess correctly before we arrived. I wouldn’t have either if I were in her shoes. It wasn’t a place most people could access, and if Sebastian hadn’t helped, I couldn’t have pulled this off.

“You can stop guessing.” I grinned and placed a hand on the small of her back, bringing her to a halt in front of a set of arched double doors. “We’re here.”

A thread of nerves wove through my anticipation as I removed her blindfold and slipped it into my pocket. Tonight was a big night—it’d been six months since our date in Tokyo, when we’d agreed to make our relationship official—and I’d taken a risk by adding a little…flair to the traditional anniversary dinner.

But the greater the risk, the greater the reward, and Scarlett deserved something more special than just a fancy dinner.

Scarlett blinked, her eyes presumably adjusting to the light after nearly an hour of being blindfolded. She glanced around the marble hall with its museum-quality paintings and priceless antique vases. Despite its opulence, it gave no hint as to the purpose or location of the building.

“Where are we?” she asked, her face a mosaic of confusion and intrigue.

My nerves sparked brighter as I reached for the gilded handles and opened the double doors. I stepped aside so she could enter, and my grin returned at her audible intake of breath.

“Scarlett,” I said. “Welcome to the Valhalla Club library.”

The Valhalla Club was an ultra-exclusive society for the world’s wealthiest and most powerful. It had chapters in every major city, and its London branch occupied one of the most splendid mansions in all of England. Every room looked like it belonged in Buckingham Palace, but the library?

The library was the most magnificent of them all.

I walked in after Scarlett and let the doors close with a quiet whoosh behind us. It was my second visit—the first had been when Sebastian brought me for a walk-through of the space so I could plan tonight’s date—but the interior never failed to awe me.

Soaring three stories to a massive, elaborately painted ceiling, the library was a wonderland of golden frescoes and leather-bound books. Crystal chandeliers cast the room in amber-hued light, and the main floor featured seven alcoves that separated the library’s impressive collection by category. A sweeping staircase spiraled up to the second and third floors, its steps cushioned with the same rich emerald carpet as the rest of the room.

Beside me, Scarlett took it all in with visible awe. “This is the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen,” she breathed. “How did you…”

“Sebastian is a member, and he was happy to do me a favor—especially after Blackcastle’s recent wins.” The Laurent heir belonged to the New York branch, but as a descendant of one of Valhalla’s founding families, he held more sway than many of its other members. “But the library isn’t the surprise. It’s who’s here.”

I took her hand and pulled her toward one of the seven alcoves.

Her brow furrowed in obvious confusion as to why I would invite a third party to our anniversary night. “Who’s…” Her sentence trailed off again when we reached the alcove and she saw who was inside.

“No.” Scarlett stopped dead in her tracks. “Asher. You didn’t.”

Relief and amusement washed away the remnants of my nerves at her stunned expression. “You’ve always wanted to meet her. I figured tonight would be a good time, especially since she just released a new book.”

Inside the alcove, a striking woman with purple-black hair paused her conversation with her partner and rose from her seat behind a small table. A pile of books was stacked neatly on its polished surface. “Hi!” Her smile dazzled. “You must be Scarlett. I’m Isabella. Are you a hugger? I’m a hugger.”

Scarlett made a strangled noise when Isabella Valencia, her favorite author, came around the table to greet her with a big hug.

“Asher tells me it’s your six-month anniversary.” Isabella pulled back, her eyes sparkling. “Congratulations. It’s a big milestone.”

“I—well, I mean, yes.” Scarlett finally found her voice. “Hi. I’m a big fan. I loved your latest book.”

“Oh, I’m glad! Thank you so much.” Isabella’s smile widened with genuine warmth. “Before we get to the signing, I want you to meet Kai, my fiancé.”

She winked at her partner, who stood next to the table with a wry smile.

He and Scarlett exchanged greetings before Scarlett’s gaze coasted to the stack of books on the table. “Wait. Signing?”

I took over explaining. “Isabella hasn’t done a UK tour yet, but I figured a personal meet and greet would be more fun than standing in line for hours anyway.” I gestured at the books. “I had special editions made of all her titles so she could sign them for you in person.”

I’d found a printer who could bind personal copies in hardcover with all the bells and whistles—foiling, fancy formatting, and a bunch of other features that went over my head but that the printer insisted Scarlett would love.

Judging by the glossy sheen that brightened Scarlett’s eyes, he’d been right. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“When Asher emailed me about doing this, it was a no-brainer,” Isabella said, rescuing Scarlett from her speechlessness. “I didn’t care that I had to fly here from New York. His idea was the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Behind her, Kai frowned, looking insulted.

“Come.” Isabella hooked her arm through Scarlett’s and led her to the table. “Let’s get these books signed for you so you can enjoy the rest of your anniversary night with Asher. Which story is your favorite so far?”

While the women chatted, I went and stood next to Kai. We’d never interacted before, but I recognized him from various news stories as Kai Young, the CEO of a major media conglomerate. They owned dozens of news outlets in the UK, including Match and Sports UK.

“It’s great of you to accompany Isabella here,” I said in an attempt to make conversation. “My team would’ve taken good care of her, but I think it’s lovely that you took the time to come with her.”

Not a lot of billionaire chief executives would take time away from work to join their fiancée for a personal book signing. Most of them wouldn’t do that for a full book tour.

I’d offered to pay for Isabella’s entire trip to London, but she insisted that wasn’t necessary since Kai owned a house in the city anyway.

“Yes, well, she’s my fiancée.” His tone was polite, but he placed an oddly aggressive emphasis on the last word. “I’m always happy to support her.”

My other attempts to start a nice chat also failed, so I eventually fell into silence and contented myself with watching Scarlett.

My mouth tipped up at her excitement as she talked to Isabella. She’d lost her earlier shyness and was gushing about a plot twist in one of the author’s earlier works, her face bright with animation.

When the signing finished and Isabella hugged her again, I thought Scarlett would dissolve into a cloud of sparkles and smiles.

It made my fucking heart sing. We hadn’t officially exchanged gifts yet (though the special edition books were my anniversary presents to her), but she didn’t even need to give me anything. Seeing her that happy had already made my night.

“I know this is going to sound tacky, but before we leave, do you mind if I get a photo and a few autographs?” Isabella asked me, her tone apologetic. “My friends and I are big fans, and they’d kill me if I came back without your signature.”

Kai’s frown deepened.

“Of course. It’s the least I could do,” I said easily.

“Great! Kai, can you take the pictures?” She shoved her phone at her fiancé. “I’d love one with Scarlett too.”

I signed a few pages in her notebook for her, and we took turns grouping up for the photos—me with Isabella, then Scarlett with Isabella, followed by one of the three of us together. Isabella also insisted on taking photos of me and Scarlett to “document our night.”

Kai did the honors. I heard he was quite nice and gentlemanly compared to other CEOs, but he didn’t look very nice and gentlemanly to me. He looked like he wanted to roast me alive, especially during my photo with Isabella—the one she’d asked for.

Jesus. What had I ever done to him?

Fortunately, I made it through the photo session intact, and Isabella and Kai left after wishing us happy anniversary again. The library doors closed, and Scarlett and I were alone once more.

“I can’t believe you set up a private signing with Isabella Valencia.” Scarlett still looked dazed from the encounter. “How long did it take you to plan this?”

“About two and a half months. I didn’t have to work too hard to convince her. Like she said, she was happy to do it.”

“Lucky she’s your fan,” Scarlett teased. “Though I don’t think I can say the same for Kai. He kept glaring at you for some reason.”

“Maybe he’s not a Blackcastle supporter.” I shrugged. “Though apparently, I don’t poll well amongst engaged or married men between the ages of twenty-five and fifty. I’m not sure why.”

“Their loss.” She twined her arms around my neck. “I think you’re pretty great.”

“Pretty great?”

“Exceptionally great,” she amended. “Better?”

“Much.” I gave her a soft kiss. “Happy anniversary, darling.”

“Happy anniversary.” She sighed dreamily against my mouth. “I could stay here forever. This library is the stuff of dreams.”

“Our dinner reservations aren’t for another hour.” I’d booked us a private room at Valhalla’s onsite restaurant. “But I can think of a few ways to pass that time…” My mouth moved to the delicate shell of her ear. “Without leaving the library.”

Scarlett’s breath quickened. “Here?” she squeaked, clearly picking up on the suggestiveness of my tone. “What if someone comes in?”

“They won’t. The library is reserved for us tonight.” I gave her earlobe a gentle nip before my voice hardened. “Now turn around, bend over, and spread your legs.”

The air flickered, throwing our lighthearted teasing into the dark, murky waters of lust.

Scarlett’s face flushed, but she obeyed without protest. A visible shiver ran through her body as she bent over the table and parted her legs. Her arm brushed the stack of freshly signed books, which I relocated to a nearby couch before grabbing one of the throw pillows.

I tucked the pillow beneath her hips and leaned forward, covering her body with mine. “Do you trust me?”

She nodded, but her shallow breaths morphed into a hitch of surprise when I retrieved the blindfold from my pocket and slowly slipped it over her eyes again.

A low whine escaped her throat when I stood and stepped back.

“Shhh,” I murmured. “I’ll take care of you soon.” I pushed her dress up around her hips, my nostrils flaring in appreciation at her visible arousal.

I skimmed my fingers over the lust-dampened silk—just lightly enough to make her squirm and whine again. She pushed her hips back at me in an obvious bid for more friction, but I held firm and let myself explore leisurely for another minute despite the growing tightness in my trousers.

We had time, and I wanted to savor this moment. It wasn’t just about the sex—it was about the fact that she trusted me enough to let go. To hand over the reins of control and let me take us where I wanted because she knew I would never hurt her. Her trust was more intoxicating than any sexual act.

That being said…when I initiate something, I always see it through.

“Please,” Scarlett panted. “No more teasing.”

“I thought you liked my teasing.” I traced my fingers over the lace edge of her underwear and chuckled at her adorable little growl of frustration.

“Asher Donovan, if you don’t—oh fuck.” Her words cut off with a gasp and a swear when I yanked her underwear down with a sharp tug and pushed a finger inside her.

She was already so wet it was like sliding through silk, and when I worked a second finger into her, she barely resisted. Instead, her hips bucked, and a loud moan fell out when I reached around with my other hand and pressed my thumb against her clit.

The sight, sound, smell of her sent a shock of heat through my system as I built up a rhythm. The air swirled with the heady sweetness of her arousal, and my cock throbbed with painful need.

My heavy breaths mixed with her moans and the filthy, slippery sound of my fingers thrusting in and out of her. I kept my thumb on her clit while I finger fucked her from behind, faster and deeper, drawing her moans out into cries that lit up every nerve ending of my body.

The blindfold and temporary loss of one of her senses must’ve heightened the pleasure for her because her muscles went rigid only a few minutes in. Her pants deepened, and I could tell she was on the brink of orgasming when I pulled my hand away from her.

Scarlett’s hoarse sound of protest died at the sound of my zipper sliding down and the crinkle of foil. By the time I rolled the condom over my eager, aching cock, she’d tensed again, her body practically quivering with anticipation.

I nudged her entrance with the tip of my cock. “Hold on to the desk,” I ordered.

She did as I asked, her fingers curling around the edge just in time for me to bury myself inside her with one hard thrust. She moaned again as I bent over her and braced my hands against the desk on either side of her.

“How hard do you want me to fuck you, Scarlett?” My soft question belied the insistent, insatiable heat gathered at the base of my spine. I wanted to pound into her and hear her scream, to see her claw at the desk and come apart around my cock, but I wanted to hear her say it first.

My lips grazed her cheek, and I felt a shiver ripple through her body.

She didn’t answer, but she let out a whimper when my hand came up to grasp her chin. “How hard?” I repeated.

“Hard,” she whispered, her cheeks heating beneath my mouth.

“I can’t hear you, darling.” I pushed myself a little deeper inside her—no more than a centimeter, but it was enough to make her hips buck again.

“Hard.” Her knuckles whitened. “I want you to fuck me hard. Please.” The last word came out as a sob.

I groaned. God, I could never say no to, nor get enough of, her.

I released her chin, braced my hand against the desk again—and fucked her exactly the way she wanted. Hard and rough, my balls slapping against her skin with every thrust, her screams and moans driving me faster, deeper until she came with a half-cry, half-sob.

Her cunt rippled, squeezing and releasing my cock in a way that pulled a blinding orgasm out of me mere seconds later. My vision whitened, and the world devolved into pure static beneath an exquisite, almost agonizing wave of pleasure.

Scarlett and I lay there, panting, until our breaths returned to normal and I could move my limbs again.

I removed her blindfold, helped her up, and cleaned us both with the handkerchief I brought with me. I tossed the used condom and soiled cloth into the box the special edition books had been delivered in and made a mental note to place the entire box in the trash before we left.

When I finished, I caught a glimpse of Scarlett’s deep blush before she buried her face in my chest. “I can’t go to dinner like this,” she said, her voice muffled. “I look…”

“Like you’ve been fucked thoroughly?” I chuckled when she lifted her head to glare at me, the color of her cheeks deepening from pale rose to beet red.

“Asher.”

“You still look beautiful. You’re just a little more…ruffled.” I smoothed a strand of hair back from her forehead. “If it makes you feel better, I booked us a private room. No one will be looking at us.”

“Except the servers.”

“I’m sure they’ve seen worse, and we can clean up before dinner. The spa here has showers and toiletries we can use.”

Her jaw dropped. “Seriously? Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because you were too adorable when you thought I was going to make you walk into the restaurant smelling like sex.”

“You’re diabolical.” But her words lacked heat, and her eyes shone with so much love it arrowed straight into my chest. “I’ll let it slide this time since you gave me a private signing with Isabella Valencia and an orgasm. This might be the best anniversary ever.”

“Best anniversary ever so far,” I corrected.

Scarlett laughed. “You are one of a kind, Asher Donovan.” She stood on tiptoes and gave me a soft kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I kissed her back, my heart giving a heavy thump of agreement. “More than anything else in this world.”

I didn’t always appreciate the way other people said my full name—like I was a brand and a commodity instead of a person.

But when Scarlett said it, she said it like she saw every piece of me—the good and the bad—and she loved me because of, not despite, the different facets of my character.

I’d been surrounded by money and fame for most of my adult life. But this, right here, with Scarlett happy and content in my arms?

This was all I truly needed.