“I think I’m the fortunate one to have captured Autumn’s heart,” he replies, looking deeply into my eyes.

  I think Mom flat-out swoons at his poetic words, French accent, and grumbly voice. I’m pretty sure I hear her whisper to Jacqueline, “I think we’re going to be grandmas soon if he keeps saying things like that.”

  “Mom!” I exclaim, flushing brightly in an instant.

  “Oh, I’m only teasing,” she says. She turns to Jacqueline and Nora. “Has she told you how she struck out from our little town, with nothing but piss and vinegar in her blood and a dream in her heart? I was so worried, but this one . . . you can’t tell her a thing!”

  Mom goes on to tell Nora and Jacqueline how she’d worried about my being in the big city, had waited for me to come home with my tail between my legs, and how proud she was when I graduated from FIT. “I bragged to everyone in town. They nearly banned me from the Wegman’s. And I thought she’d come back then, but nope. She wanted to see things, do things, and learn more. She’s so much braver than I could’ve ever dreamed of being.”

  Mom looks at me with pride shining in her eyes.

  All these years, I thought she didn’t believe in me. And yeah, she worried I wouldn’t make it, but not because of my skills but because the fashion industry is nearly impossible to break into and even harder to find success with. Only the rare designer becomes a household name, but I’m still hoping against hope that I am one of those lucky few.

  Her joy in seeing the show tonight and words of support spotlight her previous words and actions in a different way. It doesn’t cure my feelings of insecurity and doubt, but it does put Mom in a different column, moving her from naysayer to cheerleader, something I wasn’t sure would ever happen.

  As people start to leave, the Fab Five come back together.

  “I’m proud of us,” I say, looking at four women who, through fabric and freakouts, have become some of my best friends.

  “Me too,” Molly agrees. “Now what?”

  “I’m going back to France. I have a contract with House Corbin to complete,” Beatrice says, looking to Jacqueline for approval.

  I don’t begrudge her winning the competition. I truly don’t. And I think she’ll learn a lot at Jacqueline’s side, and hopefully, add some fresh blood to House Corbin’s designs. It’s a good fit for them both.

  Katarina grins. “I’ve been invited to Milan, set up with a studio of my own by a patron who wishes to remain anonymous.”

  Molly, with zero filter as always, asks, “How many feet pics did you have to send to get that sort of deal?”

  Katarina laughs, but I kind of want to hear the answer too.

  “I assure you. No feet pictures, or pictures of other body parts. He appreciates my work, nothing more.”

  I hope she’s right because that sounds dangerous as hell.

  “Well, if you need to get out of dodge quickly, hit me up. I’m traveling Europe so I can be at your side within a day if we need to escape the prison warden,” Molly tells Katarina.

  Yori interjects, “I’m working with private clients in Japan, though I’m seeing more requests from all over Asia now with the recognition from the competition. It will be up to me to continually earn the attention once the flame of media attention dies down.”

  “Well, I’m going back to the studio to work,” I tell them, though they already know.

  “Suuuure. ‘Work’ . . . is that what we’re calling it again?” Molly teases.

  “What? I do work,” I argue. But when all four designers, Jacqueline, Nora, and my mom raise their brows at me in unison, I concede. “Fine, all work and no play makes Autumn a dull girl. So there will be some play too.”

  Simon chuckles. “I think what Autumn means to say is that we’re looking for ways we can give back to the community here in New York the way I did in Paris. Underprivileged youth, shelters for the unhoused, orphans who need a future. We’ll support them, volunteer our time, and maybe even begin a scholarship for students who want to attend FIT but can’t afford to do so. I want others to be able to chase their dreams the way my Princesse has done.”

  I can’t believe that this is what my life has become.

  Simon. Fashion. Dreams coming true in ways I never would’ve imagined. And the sex!

  Sex!

  Sex!

  Yummy, delicious, dirty, filthy, sweet, kinky, curl your toes until you feel it in your nose sex!

  “Come on. Let’s go home,” I tell Simon blissfully.

  He takes my hand, and we wave goodbye to our friends, promising to meet them all for breakfast in the morning before people begin heading their separate ways.

  As we leave, I hear Mom whisper, “Can’t wait for the grandbabies. Did you see that boy’s jawline?”

  Yes, Mom. I most certainly did.

  EPILOGUE

  AUTUMN

  When we left Paris, the Sun Orphanage was an aging grand dame on the edge of dilapidation.

  What a difference a few months can make. Work is still progressing, but what started as a one-night event has turned into a godsend of opportunities for the residents, the staff, and especially the building itself.

  The brickwork has all been cleaned, the trim repainted, and best of all, brand-new play areas have been built for the kids. And that’s just on the outside. The inside is even better, with fresh bedding for every child, new computers for schoolwork, and updated work spaces for the staff.

  Considering how important this place is to Simon and me, of course we wanted to have our wedding here. The only question was when. The business of getting Autumn Fisher Designs going meant Simon and I have had very little time for wedding planning. Long-distance discussions with a wedding planner in Paris made it manageable, thankfully.

  And today is going to be perfect. I have faith that it will be because all I really need are Simon and the officiant. Everything else is a bonus.

  “How do I look?” I ask Mom, glancing down at my dress.

  “Gorgeous,” she says, on the verge of tears again. “Are you sure you’re not going to be cold, though?” Hopefully, she holds up the lacy shawl she found online for me.

  Once upon a time, I would’ve heard that as a way to say she doesn’t like my dress or as a critique of the timing of the wedding, or even a question about whether I should be getting married in the first place. Now, I take it for what it is. “I’m not cold, Mom. But I love the shawl. I can wear it for a few of the outdoor pictures if you want?”

  “Oh, that would be pretty with the snow. Good idea. I’ll let the photographer know.” Mom places a quick kiss on my cheek and disappears with the shawl in hand.

  “Is she gone?” Molly whispers, peeking in from the bathroom.

  When I nod, Molly comes in, followed by the rest of the Fab Five. We’ve gotten closer over the last few months, even with being spread all over the globe.

  “I thought she’d never leave. No offense, babe, but your mom is a bit of a Momzilla,” Molly informs me.

  I laugh. “She’s not that bad.”

  Molly tilts her head, glaring at me. “She asked Brittanie, the director of the orphanage, if she could pop into the chapel to see if the stained-glass windows would be a good backdrop for the ceremony.”

  “Are they?” I ask, not seeing the issue.

  “It was Sunday morning!” Molly shouts and then shrinks, looking at the door like Mom might come back in, find her, and put her to work.

  “Oh.”

  Molly waves her hand. “Okay, that aside, I have something for you.” She holds up a small bag with tissue paper sticking out the top.

  “Should I be worried? It doesn’t buzz, does it?” I ask as I hold it out at arm’s length.

  Molly’s laugh does nothing to reassure me. “Open it and find out.”

  I dig into the tissue and find a beautiful, delicate circle of blue lace. “Oh, it’s gorgeous. Thank you, Molly.” I sit down, slipping my heel off to pull the garter up my thigh.

  “Ooh, la-la,” Beatrice coos. She’s quieter than she used to be, at least around me. But I think the whole competition thing changed her, making her see her own weaknesses. She’s working hard at House Corbin, though, making the most of the opportunity she’s been given and learning from Jacqueline. I’m truly happy for her.

  The thick band of blue lace is stark on my pale thigh, and as I slip my heel back on and drop my skirt once more, I feel a bit like I have a sexy secret.

  “I want that to stay on through round one, you hear me?” Molly demands.

  I feel my cheeks flush, the heat rising even though I’m not exactly embarrassed. I mean, everyone knows what wedding night activities are.

  “On that note, here,” Yori says, taking the heat off me. Literally.

  I open the small box she hands me to find a pair of combs, the kind you use to style your hair, not manage it. “Oh, Yori, they’re . . . wow.”

  She smiles softly. “They are your something borrowed. I wore them for my wedding too. They were my grandmother’s. They will bring you and Simon many years of wedded bliss.”

  Beatrice holds up a charm on a small pin. “I didn’t have a chance to wrap it, but I found this at Saint-Ouen to be your something old. I hope you like it.”

  “I love it. Thank you.”

  Katarina grins, pointing at my Janacova original wedding gown. “I’d say I got you something, but you’re already wearing it.”

  I twist a bit, letting the dress swish with the movement.

  “I guess that’s everything. Old, new, borrowed, and blue.” It’s something we’ve all agreed to do for one another when the time comes. “Am I ready?”

  I let them look me up and down, trusting their educated eyes.

  “Perfect,” they all agree.

  “Okay, let’s do this.”

  I walk down the stairs with my friends, all of whom are standing up with me as bridesmaids.

  We line up outside the Corbin Gymnasium wing, the only place large enough for the hundreds of guests we’ve invited. After all, a Corbin is getting married in Paris.

  The doors open, and the women walk down the aisle before me. Last but not least, Tobias walks down with Xerxes on a leash. He’s not exactly a flower girl, but we wanted to include him—Xerxes, I mean, not Tobias. Although we would definitely want to include him too.

  Since Simon and I have been growing Autumn Fisher Designs, we’ve needed support, and Tobias was happy to move to New York City to work with us. I’m certain that had more to do with his blossoming relationship with Clay than my fashion genius or his friendship with Simon. But double dates with the two of them typically leave Simon and me laughing, so I’m happy with whatever got Tobias to New York.

  Mom holds out her elbow, and I thread my arm through hers. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I love you so much, dear. And I am so happy that you are happy.” She’s whispering out the side of her mouth, and I’m listening, but my eyes are trained on Simon.

  He’s at the end of the long aisle, his eyes locked on me.

  I walk toward him, toward my everything.

  Simon

  The reception is full of laughter, dancing, and magic. It must be magic because nothing else could bring that big of a smile to my bride’s face.

  Autumn is on the dance floor with her bridesmaids. They’re swaying and moving, lifting their hands in the air as they sing along with the music.

  “She’s beautiful,” Tristan grunts from beside me. “Congratulations.”

  I look over at him, taking a slow sip of my scotch. “Watch it,” I tease. We’ve made peace, with each other and our pasts, not letting them affect our futures. In fact, Tristan is doing much better now, working an apprenticeship in home construction with plans to become a project manager one day.

  He grins back. “What can you tell me about her?”

  I follow his line of sight and chuckle when I see Claire from the coffee shop that Autumn prefers. Autumn insisted that we fly Claire to France for the wedding. “Good luck. Just don’t fuck it up, or that one will eat you alive.”

  “That sounds exciting,” he replies, one brow lifting as he takes Claire’s measure in her blood red dress and black Dr. Martens boots.

  “The folly of youth,” I intone, holding my glass up. “I wish you much luck in your trials.”

  Tristan clinks his glass against mine and then walks away, heading straight for Claire. And his likely demise.

  The other guys I worked with and befriended at the orphanage are here too, home from university or out of school for winter break. We stay in touch, messaging each other, video chatting, and even playing video games together long-distance. They’re all doing well, with Samuel planning to go into television, Raphael wanting to become a sports coach and teacher, Theodore studying business, and Claude wanting to become a social worker so he can return to the orphanage to help other children like him.

  Even beyond the boys’ growing up, truly, everything has come together brilliantly. Autumn and I are wed, Xerxes has finally decided that Autumn is an acceptable addition to his food-givers rotation, Tobias is in New York with me, and he is happy with Clay. Jacqueline is leading House Corbin into new territories with Beatrice’s influence, whom my aunt has truly taken under her wing. The other designers are doing well with their own work. Nora and her husband had their little one, an adorable cherub named Kayleigh who makes me want a miniature version of Autumn so desperately that I’ve already asked when she’ll be ready to stop her birth control so we can have one of our own. And I know that would make Autumn’s mother blissfully happy.

  In fact, I think it’s about time we get started on that.

  I wave at the wedding planner and ask, “Can we get out of here soon?”

  “Oh, Mr. Corbin . . . uhm, we have about thirty more minutes until the send-off,” she answers.

  “Make it fifteen, please.” Autumn must feel my eyes on her because she smiles at me from the dance floor. And like the flirty minx she can be, she gives me her back, drops down to put her hands on her knees, and does a little twerking dance with her round ass. “Actually, make it five.”

  The wedding planner must work miracles because ten minutes later, Autumn and I are in the back of a limousine, heading for the hotel where we’re staying tonight before leaving for our honeymoon tomorrow.

  I take her hand and lay a soft kiss on her knuckles. Looking up into her eyes, I confess, “I want you now. Here. But I refuse for the first time I have you as my wife to be in the back of a rented car. When we get to the hotel, though, I want you naked on the bed.”

  Autumn’s eyes are alight. “And what if I want you naked on the bed so I can ride you into our forever, Mr. Corbin?”

  “Then we’ll do that first.”

  “Oh! Not fully naked, though. Rings on, necklaces on, and . . .” She smiles at me like she has a secret. One I’ll definitely enjoy. “I might have a surprise for you under my dress.”

  I move to crawl under her dress right here in the car, and she laughs, pushing me away. “Wait, wait. You’ll see soon enough.”

  I catch her smile with a kiss, wanting to taste her happiness. “I love you, my wife. My bride.”

  “I love you too, husband.”

  I go rock-hard in an instant and she knows it. “Ooh, I think you like that, don’t ya?”

  I growl, kissing along her neck and praying the drive to the hotel is quick. Against the tender skin of her neck, I whisper, “I think you do too, wife.”

  A shiver works through her body, and when I kiss over the pulse in her neck, I can feel it racing against my lips.

  We continue kissing and whispering sweet promises to one another, all the way to the hotel room.

  “Let me take this off,” Autumn tells me, pointing at her dress.

  I grin wolfishly. “Need help?”

  She shoves me toward the bed. “No, you’ll end up ripping it off, and it’s too special for that. You get naked and lie down while I get naked.”

  She disappears into the bathroom, and I’ve half a mind to follow her, but in the end, I do as she orders, liking this game we play as much as when she gives me control. And she’s right, once I start undoing her dress, I will likely lose control and tear it from her, and I don’t want to start my wedding night with an upset bride.

  Happy wife, happy life. That’s the advice I’ve been given most frequently. Seems easy enough because my only goal is to make Autumn happy.

  I strip and lie on the bed. It’s fancy as hell, a golden four-poster canopy bed in the middle of a large, white, luxurious honeymoon suite. It’s part of Jacqueline’s wedding gift of ‘a honeymoon to remember’ for Autumn and me. But then the bathroom door opens and I don’t care if I’m in the most elegant room or the most primitive. All that matters is . . . Autumn.

  She’s nude as she said, wearing only her ring and necklace, but there’s a thick band of lace high on her thigh. I want to trace it with my tongue and then rip it off with my teeth.

  Autumn crosses the room toward me, and I grow even more erect, standing up proudly before her. She licks her lips as she crawls onto the bed, coming up to straddle me. She sits on me, pressing my cock to my abdomen instead of impaling herself on me. I can feel the heat of her juices coating the length of my shaft.

  Gripping her hips, I move her up and down, teasing us both.

  She leans forward, her hair falling around us in a curtain of red silk and her necklace dangling between us. Her kiss is slow, an unhurried exploration of my mouth as though we haven’t kissed hundreds of times before, and I return the teasing build, slowing the movement of her hips.

  We’re passionate, panting and breathing in one another’s air as we kiss. It’s my favorite thing to do with Autumn, though hearing her cries of pleasure as she comes on me is a close second. Actually, that might be first. My cock jumps at the memory of how wild Autumn can be when she fully releases, and I need it. Now.

  “Princesse, please.” It’s a beg, I’ll admit, but it’s growled with deep hunger.