STRIPPED 2 (A Ferro Family Novel) (14 page)

Jon hesitates, shaking his head. I think he’s going to give his brother a verbal lashing, but, instead, Jon lifts his arms and wraps them around Sean. He slaps his back twice, and Sean does the same. They say something to each other, something I can’t hear before pulling back.

Then Sean turns toward the door with his helmet tucked under his arm. Just before he crosses the threshold, he pauses, turns, and says, “Don’t let that one get away. She’s good for you. She sees you, Jonny.” He doesn’t wait for a reply. Sean’s gone.

I
chatter
about the club and ask him what else he has planned on the way to the heliport. At least, I think that’s where we’re going until he passes it. I arch a brow at him. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I glance out the window, watching the city streets fly by. It’s late, and there’s no traffic. We dip south of the city and enter New Jersey. Jon winds around a few streets in an industrial area. “Did you bring me out here to whack me and throw my body in one of these storage yards?”

Jon snorts and glances over at me. “Do you normally worry about that when you’re out with me?’

“Not in a while. But at first? Yeah. Why did you think I wouldn’t go out with you?”

“Because you thought I was a sex god and couldn’t control yourself?”

I double over in my seat laughing. “Oh, please! It’s because I thought you’d get us both eaten by gators. I heard how you liked to tempt them by walking along the spillway.” The seatbelt engages and locks. I tug at the strap, but it only presses me closer against the seat until I’m too stuck to move.

Jon stifles a laugh. “So, how’s it going?”

I’m pressing the button to release the strap, but it won’t click. There’s too much pressure on it. “I’m stuck.” I drop my arms and slouch against the restraints. “Breathing’s going to be an issue.”

“Calm down. We’re here.” He pulls into a narrow driveway, passing a sign that says Teterboro Airport.

Jon pulls over for a second and unbuckles me. “I just need to drive past the gate. You good?”

I nod sheepishly. Jon leans in and presses a kiss to my lips. “Good.”

He pulls up to the gate, gives the tail number of the plane for security reasons, and they let us pass through. Curiosity is killing me. This is the airport for the freakishly rich, not the helipad. “Jon, where are we going?”

Jon parks the car next to a huge plane. He glances over at me while he turns off the engine. “Somewhere you want to see.”

I still have no clue. Disney World? I’m going to ride on Small World until I puke! I squee inwardly, but act badass on the outside. “Okay. We’re walking there, right?”

He smiles. “Get out of the car, wiseass.”

I giggle as we walk up to the plane. Standing this close to an airliner is impressive. They look big from the window, but I never realized the tires are taller than me. The rest of it is like a flying building. It’s insane, and we’re going to be the only ones on it.

Jon talks to the captain as I head up the stairs.

Confused, I ask, “You’re not flying?”

Jon shakes his head. “Not tonight. Go pick out a spot for us to sit.”

I smile at him before I reach the top landing and pass through the door. After saying hello to the other co-pilot, I turn through another doorway and stare. It’s a living room complete with white leather couches, chairs, a dining table, and even a chandelier. The back wall is mirrored, making the space look twice as large. I walk back and flop into a chair.

“Holy shit,” I say, running my fingers appreciatively over the leather. It’s supple, like those chairs in the tux store. I know Jon has money in theory, but I never remember in practice. When I met him, he was always in a trailer with me, and, more recently, he’s been sleeping on my floor. His New York City apartment is worth more than I can imagine, but this? This plane is a luxury that puts his wealth in perspective.

Jonathan Ferro is a billionaire.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and jump. “Sorry, Cassie. I said something, but you didn’t hear me.”

I touch his hand and look up at him. His jacket drapes over his arm, and his hair is perfectly messy. Bright blue eyes sparkle with excitement.

“This is, wow!”

A crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You’re always shocked by my wealth.”

I nod in slow motion. “Because it’s more than I can imagine. If I had a little money, I’d buy a Hyundai and pay off my credit cards. If I won the lottery, I’d buy a souped-up Genesis and maybe get some new clothes.”

“Wait. If you won the lottery you’d get a nicer Hyundai? On purpose?”

I nod. “It’s a pretty car.”

He smiles and sits in the chair opposite me. “It is.” He doesn’t tease me even though my dreams are cheap. I’d be the only rich girl clipping coupons and double-checking that my jeans are on sale even if my bank account was stuffed to the gills.

“This life is so far beyond me…” I shake my head. “You’re this great man, you have so much, and yet—it’s not who you are.”

He arches a dark brow. “You sound surprised.”

“I am. I thought if someone had all this stuff there’d be no way he’d slum it with a stripper and sleep on the basement floor. Sure there's carpet, but it’s cheap and old. It feels like sleeping on cement. You could have been here.”

“I didn’t want to be here. I wanted you. I still do.”

I feel small and nervous. I avoid looking at him as I try to make sense of this. I’m not jealous, or mad. I don’t know what I am. I guess it just shows how different we are, and that scares me.

Then he’s there, in front of me. Jon takes my hands and crouches in front of me. “Cassie, I love you. If you want to fly commercial, I don't mind. We can wait in line at JFK airport and take off three or four hours from now. I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”

I feel silly and shake my head. “No, that’s okay. I like this. It’s just a lot to comprehend.”

He reaches for the seatbelt and buckles me in. “There, now you can’t get away.”

We both laugh as the captain announces we’re ready to take off.

O
nce we’re
in the air, Jon unfolds a tablecloth and sets the table. He grabs food from the storage area at the front of the plane and tells me I can wash up in the back if I’d like. I rise and walk to the glass door. When I pull it open, I freeze in stunned shock. There’s another room, as large as this one, with a big bed on one side and a long couch on the other.

I call back to Jon over my shoulder. “There’s a bedroom in here.”

He laughs, stops what he’s doing and looks up at me. “I know, I thought you’d want a place to sleep. This is an international flight.”

I turn on my heel, shocked. “What?”

He walks toward me with a coy smile on that beautiful face, hands behind his back. “I’m taking you to Paris. We’re going to walk hand in hand along the Seine. I’m going to take you to my favorite café for lunch and spoil you until you beg me to stop.”

The corners of my mouth rise and fall repeatedly as I try not to overreact. “I don’t have my passport.”

“I have it.”

“How’d you find it?”

“Beth helped me. I didn't feel comfortable digging through your things looking for it. She had no such qualms once she found out what I was planning.”

“Are you serious? We’re going to Paris? THE Paris? In France?” Jon nods, grinning, and I rush into his arms, squeezing him tight. “I always wanted to go there. I thought I’d never have the chance.”

Jon holds me tight and says into my ear, “I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you I love you. I thought I’d never get the chance to taste your lips, and I thought any kiss I got from you would be stolen.”

He pulls away to look down at me, then leans in to press his mouth to mine. “You have no idea how many times I fantasized about doing that. Now, I’m going to serve you an amazing dinner,” he spins me around toward the bedroom and points over my shoulder, “then we are going in there for dessert. I’m going to spoil you in any way you want, all you have to do is ask.” He wraps his arms around my shoulders and whispers in my ear. “In the morning, we’ll wake up, shower, and take a walk along the Seine.”

I love the feel of his arms around me and the sound of his voice. My hands come up and hold onto his. I’m so happy I can barely speak.

“This is extraordinary,” I whisper.

He kisses my temple lightly. “You’re extraordinary.”

He presses another kiss to the side of my cheek. “Beautiful.”

Then another. “Gorgeous.”

Then he presses a kiss to my neck. “Perfect.”

I
t’s unreal
. We’re in Paris, wandering hand in hand along the river. The air is warm, and the breeze is cool. I thought Cassie might jump out of the plane last night. It spooked her, fully realizing how well off I am. Once the shock of it faded, she flirted with me at dinner and slept soundly in my arms. This morning she joined me in the little shower, pressing her slick wet body against mine until we both fit. It was perfect.

She hasn’t stopped smiling since we landed. We buy espresso and crepes with Nutella and bananas from a sidewalk vendor, watching as he expertly spreads the batter over the round griddle and manipulates it with a large flat spatula. We nibble the warm hazelnut chocolate as we walk, taking in the sights and sounds of Paris. Cassie's eyes are wide, drinking in the color and light. As we pass, she greedily breathes in the smells of the string of cafes just opening for breakfast. She looks so happy I almost don’t want to risk it. She might say no. It’s probably too soon, but I don’t care. I can't wait another day to ask her.

We pass Notre Dame, and I lead her toward the little bridge. As we cross, she glances at the railings covered with padlocks. She stops, looks down, and lifts one. “What’s all this?”

I walk over, lean my hip against the rail and explain. “It’s a love lock. For each lock on this bridge, a couple put their names on the lock and pledged their undying love to each other. They snap it on the bridge and throw the keys over the edge into the water below. It’s a symbol of their everlasting love.”

She adores the story. Her face lights up, and she bends to study the names. When she stands, she looks up at me with those big brown eyes. “That’s incredibly romantic.”

I put my hand in my pocket and fish out the golden lock, keys still attached and lift it so she can see. Her mouth opens into a little O as she studies the lock in my palm. I had it engraved with our names.

“Really?” she asks shyly, her full lips pressing into a thin line. “You want to do it?”

“You’re my forever, Cass. I’ve known that for a long time. I’m sorry it took me so long to—“

She doesn’t let me finish. Her arms are around my neck, and she’s kissing me. When she finally pulls away, she takes the lock, and we pick a spot on the railing. Together we snap it closed and toss the key into the dark water below.

Cassie’s eyes fill with affection. She rises on her toes at the same time as I drop to one knee. She pauses, not getting it at first. The people around us do, though, and they stop to watch.

I pull the ring out of my other pocket and hold it up to her. Her eyes widen, and she covers her mouth with her hands. “Cassie Hale, I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. You shared your heart with me, and now I’m asking if you’ll share your life with me. I love you, baby. I always will. Cassie, will you marry me?”

My stomach twists as she stands there, frozen. The ring gets heavier as panic floods through me. It was too fucking soon. I shouldn’t have asked her, but I had to know. I want it to be more. I want her forever.

My gaze drops and the ring feels heavy to hold without hope. Just before it passes my eyes, she’s there, kneeling in front of me. There are tears on her face, and she’s smiling. “You can’t take that away yet. I didn’t give you my answer.”

“It’s okay, Cass. I was greedy. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I should have—”

She grabs my shoulders and shakes me hard. “Yes, you should have! Yes, I want to marry you!” She tips her head to catch my eyes. “Yes to everything.”

My chest fills with too many emotions all at once. I think I’m going to burst apart. I slip the ring on her finger, and Cassie throws her arms back around my neck. We’re kneeling next to a fence panel of locks on the Pont des Arts Bridge, eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose, and she leans in to kiss me.

It’s not a regular, careful Cassie kiss. It’s hot lips, desire, and hope mingling together and flowing through us both. That wasn’t bullshit before. It wasn’t showmanship. She’s told me so much, opened up the most private parts of her existence to me.

She’s my other half, and I know it.

There’s no one else like Cassie Hale, and there never will be.

I
n mid-2015
, Paris said au revoir to love locks. Their Pont Des Arts Bridge swooned hard under the weight of over one million padlocks—the equivalent of over forty elephants—with parts of the bridge collapsing into the Seine River. Parisian city workers removed the locks to preserve the integrity of the structure and ensure the historic landmark remains safe for visitors. Still, the experience of standing on that bridge, witness to the love of the many couples who left a lock and threw away the keys, was sublime. It's an example of real-life romance I wanted to preserve in these pages and share with you, so that even if you didn't have the chance to visit in person, you can still experience it within this book.

N
ow for a more difficult subject
. Every year countless women are plagued by pelvic pain with no idea what to do about it. Most suffer in silence, unaware it’s a condition they can manage with help from a medical professional.

Sometimes conditions flare up from abuse, other times it’s from a difficult pregnancy or surgery. No one talks about it, so very few people know it’s a thing, a real problem that makes life so much harder than it has to be.

It took me nearly three years to cross paths with a women’s health physical therapist. She saved me. At the time, I was recovering from a very difficult pregnancy, but I’d experienced underlying issues with sex and pain my entire life. It wasn’t until I started writing that I realized my descriptions of sexual sensations confused my editor. She circled the word ‘sharp’ and questioned it in the margin. It was the first time someone suggested that sex isn't supposed to hurt. I’ve since learned that women with this condition often describe sex that way. It’s not pleasant, it’s painful, and the only way to manage a relationship is to learn to love pain. It’s that or nothing—or so I'd always thought.

It’s taken years to undo the damage my seriously fat babies, surgeries, and bad habits caused, but I’m getting there. I wanted to draw attention to this matter because it affects so many women and they suffer alone when they don’t need to.

Women’s health physical therapists often work in conjunction with an OB/GYN. There aren’t many of them in the US, but they do exist and, if you have this condition, it’s worth the time and expense to visit one of them. Ask your doctor. Younger physicians are more likely to be aware of chronic pelvic pain issues and treat your request seriously.

If you'd like to read more about this topic, an excellent resource is
A HEADACHE IN THE PELVIS
, a book by doctors David Wise and Rodney Anderson.

Sex doesn’t have to hurt. There’s hope.