‘Why?’
‘Because you made a huge deal last week.’
‘Yes, and we celebrated that last week.’ I laugh. The French company gave me the high-rise listing and I’ve sold ninety per cent of the office and retail space. It is a big deal and even I’m reeling at how much I’ve been able to achieve since Gareth agreed to sell our business to me.
‘And,’ he pushes, ‘you’re the undisputed queen of Sydney real estate, that’s why. The newspaper says so. See?’ He drops a paper to the bed—I didn’t even realise he was holding it but then again, I’m sleep-addled and hot-boyfriend-addled. It’s the real estate section and my photo is on the front.
‘Oh, my God.’
‘I know.’ His pride is almost better than this article. Almost, but not quite.
‘Seriously?’
‘Evidently.’
‘This is unbelievable.’
‘No, Grace. It’s completely believable, and absolutely deserved.’ He leans down and then kisses the top of my head and, out of nowhere, tears clog my throat. Because that’s so like Jagger—one minute he’s driving me crazy with early wake-ups and the thread of desire that is always pulling me to him, and the next he’s filling my soul with sunshine and mermaids and promises that I might have thought were too good to be true if he hadn’t spent every minute of every day showing me that Jagger’s promises are always true.
‘Read it,’ he says, pride thick in his voice. ‘And then get ready. We’re going out.’
‘To where?’
‘Breakfast on the water?’ I look towards the harbour on autopilot. Sydney is sparkling today, just like my mood, and Jagger’s yacht would be the perfect place to be. We love his boat—it’s not like the kind of thing you’d expect a mega billionaire to have. It’s on the small side, though inside it’s been fitted with every mod con. He might hate overt status symbols, but he likes the idea of being able to sail off into the ocean from time to time, knowing he can get back safely.
‘Sounds good.’ I drop my attention to the newspaper, scanning the article, contentment settling around me.
‘You’ve got ten minutes, Sleeping Beauty.’
‘Make it eight.’ Why wait? Now that I’m awake, I want to roll up my sleeves and enjoy every minute of this day.
Jagger turns on his heel and pads out of our bedroom. I read the article quickly and I’m just pushing out of bed when he strolls back in, a goofy smile on his impossibly handsome face.
‘That was only four minutes.’
‘I know.’
‘So?’ I put a hand on my hip, grinning even when I’m trying to be pissed off at him. ‘You owe me four minutes.’
‘Actually, I owe you a lifetime,’ he corrects and leaves again.
I laugh, even when my heart is beating double tempo.
I shower in one minute and pull on a pair of jeans and a cashmere sweater, smiling at the feeling of a paw on my thigh. Brinkley isn’t technically supposed to be in our room. That’s Jagger’s rule. But on the few occasions I’ve been too busy to travel with Jagger and Brinkley’s been here alone with me, I’ve caved completely and let Brinkley sleep at the foot of our bed.
He knows I’m a soft touch.
‘Hiya, boy.’ I abandon my attempt to tame my hair and crouch down, running my hands over his fur. ‘Your daddy’s going to be cranky if he sees you in here.’
Brinkley buries hi
s head in my stomach and I smile.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll explain.’ I ruffle my hands at his neck and feel something hard catch my fingertips. His collar is on—I spin it around, checking for obstructions, and I can only frown when I find a bright red ribbon tied there. I look closer and all of my breath explodes out of my body. Because, tied carefully to Brinkley’s collar, is the biggest, most beautiful ring I have seen in my entire life. Two diamond bands are snaked together, plaiting the full circumference of the ring. It’s sparkly but simple and elegant, all at once.
My fingers are shaking a little and I look up, on autopilot.
Jagger is standing in the door frame, watching us, his eyes shining with emotion. ‘I told you, we’re celebrating.’