To have and to hold, p.1
To Have and to Hold, page 1
To Have and to Hold
Vegas Vows: a Valentine’s Day Series
CC Monroe
KD Robichaux
Copyright © 2021 by CC Monroe
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by: Cormar Covers
Edited by: Barbara Hoover
Proofread by: Casey Lalkas
Contents
Also by CC Monroe
Also by KD Robichaux
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Also by CC Monroe
Also by KD Robichaux
Also by CC Monroe
Always and Forever Series
Always the One
Always Us
Forever the One
Forever Us
The Loving Series
Loving Ben Cooper
Loving Kate Beckett
Co-Written with KD Robichaux
Steal You
Number Neighbor
To Have and to Hold
Happily Ever Alpha World
Until Kayla
Until Mercy
Until Brew
Coming Soon
Protecting Her Honor
Evil Queen Anthology
Revealed: KB World
Also by KD Robichaux
All Links Available on kdrobichaux.com
The Blogger Diaries Trilogy
(Must be read in order)
Wished for You
Wish He Was You
Wish Come True
The Blogger Diaries Trilogy Boxed Set
The Adventure Channel Series
(Series of Standalones)
No Trespassing
Dishing Up Love
The Club Alias Series
(Series of Standalones)
Confession Duet Boxed Set (Before the Lie & Truth Revealed)
Seven: a Club Alias Novel
Mission: Accomplished (a Club Alias Novella Boxed Set)
Knight: a Club Alias Novel
Doc: a Club Alias Novel
A Lesson in Blackmail: a Club Alias Spinoff
Moravian Rhapsody: a Club Alias Novella
Scary Hot: a Club Alias and Until Series Crossover
Co-written with CC Monroe
Steal You
Number Neighbor
To Have and to Hold
Happily Ever Alpha World
Until We Meet Again (Now Inside Mission: Accomplished Boxed Set)
Scary Hot: a Club Alias and Until Series Crossover
Until Cece
Chapter 1
Scarlett
Eight years ago
“Pretty is the beginning. Perfection is the goal,” I whisper to myself in my visor mirror outside of Pierce Plastic Surgery Center located on the Las Vegas Strip. It’s a hot summer day, the blistering heat sitting at a thirst-inducing 106 degrees. I look my face over one more time, knowing I plan to have a consultation on my nose and my lips today.
The city of sin is what most people call it, but really, it’s the city of sin and beauty, and to make it here or find someone worthy, Mother always said, “You must do whatever it takes.” She tells me that daily with gusto. I’m only twenty-two, and I don’t think I look that bad. I’m no beast to look at, but I guess there are some things I could… fix up, if you will.
I have piercing blue eyes that most people compare to the Mediterranean Sea. My nose seems fitting for my face, but Mother points out the tip and how it curves up a bit too much. My lips are not small, but they’re not large and voluptuous. My blonde hair is mid-length, recently touched up at the roots, like I do every six weeks. I don’t dare go past the scheduled time or my mother will notice, and noticing me not keeping up with her ageless beauty isn’t something a Wells woman would do.
I would like to say I know where this all comes from—this deep-seated need to chase outer perfection, but Mother says it’s a choice, not a burden. Maybe her parents talked down to her? I don’t know; my grandparents passed when I was too young to remember.
Maybe my biological father? Who knows. He walked out the moment my mother said she was pregnant. Or maybe it really is just about timeless beauty and grace. Has this created heavy tension and strain in my relationship with my mother? Yes. But that wouldn’t matter to her. She’s too busy bouncing from husband to husband, the richest of the rich on the Las Vegas Strip.
Climbing out of the car, I’m greeted with instant heat, and not the humid kind; more like a blow dryer straight to your face. Adjusting my Louis Vuitton sunglasses, I grab the same brand purse and look myself over in the reflection of the car window. I went with a white bodycon dress and nude Louboutins.
I notice men looking at me as I make my way around the sleek all-black glass building, and I ignore the catcalls. I don’t want attention from men; it’s not my top priority. I have goals that live outside Mother’s demands that I maintain an appearance of straight perfection. I want to go to school, earn a degree in business, maybe own my own one day. Who knows. I bartend for now, four nights a week at Coyote Ugly, and I stash away those tips to hopefully get through business school without my mother’s help.
Mother would never let me go to school. Wells women don’t lift a finger; men do it for them. But that’s not me. I’m no shallow woman. I would like to distance myself and get a life of my own. Be free from this idea that I’m not allowed to step out of the squeaky-clean bubble Linette Wells created for me—better yet, forced me to climb into.
Entering the lobby, I enjoy the distinguished sound when the heels of my expensive shoes hit the even more expensive flooring. Straight ahead, I see the glass doors with the elegant writing Pierce Plastic Surgery Center. The heels clack on the floor, and with my head held high, I walk in the room as if I own it. That’s also something a Wells woman must do—command the room.
“Welcome! Are you Ms. Wells?” the receptionist summons me, and I give her a sweet smile.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Perfect. We see you filled out the new patient paperwork online, so all I will need is a copy of your license.” Her name is Rose, according to her name tag. Surprisingly, she doesn’t look at all like a receptionist who works here. Beautiful, of course, because all women are, but she’s older. Dare I say her sixties? It doesn’t look to me like she’s had work done, but I will say she’s aged beautifully.
Now that?
That is elegance to me.
Handing her my identification card, I wait patiently as she scans it in. Giving it back to me, she offers me some sparkling water, which I decline with a shake of my head.
“No, thank you. I’ll just have a seat. Thank you so much, Rose.”
She seems shocked at my politeness. “Well, you are very welcome, my dear. Dr. Pierce is with a client and should be finished in a moment. I will bring you back when he’s ready.”
“No rush.” With one more soft smile, I tuck my blonde hair behind my ear and take a seat on the plush white seat in the modern waiting room.
Before long, Rose approaches me. “Ms. Wells, Dr. Pierce is ready for you.”
I follow her toward the hallway lined in white carpet and gray walls. Entering the last room on the left, Rose informs me that since this is a face consult, I can stay in the clothes I’m currently in.
“Thank you again, Rose.” I’ve always done my best to be polite. My mother has never been rude, just not overly kind. People are dispensable and at her command. I hated her behavior, so I over-compensated when we were out in public.
“You’re welcome. Oh, and Ms. Wells, I know this may be inappropriate, but I think you are already stunning and don’t need to change a thing.”
Shocked, I don’t respond—not that I could, because she shuts the door. Isn’t telling a client they don’t need the work bad for business? I’m not sure how her boss would take her comment, but I think Rose kind for saying so.
“Knock-knock, Ms. Wells. I’m Gideon Pierce,” the man at the door announces, and I expect to see someone who is filled with plastic and fillers. I’m stunned and speechless for the second time since setting foot in this room.
I’ve never—and I mean never—seen a man so devastatingly gorgeous. No work. All natural. But he looks like Michelangelo himself sculpted him. His hair is dark, and his hazel eyes almost make my bright blue ones look dull and lifeless by comparison. His body is covered in an expensive pair of tailored slacks, a white, button-up shirt and a black tie, which is topped off by his doctor’s coat. Even covered as he is, I can tell he’s muscular.
Our eyes lock, my tongue ties, and my stomach drops. Sensation between my legs ignites. I’m aroused. How could I not be?
That look. I’m paralyzed in place by his gaze, and I feel claimed. It’s as if his eyes control me. Where they wander, I go, because I refuse to be without his constant eye contact. He’s ecstasy in human form.
“Ms. Wells,” he says again.
His voice pulls me from my wayward thoughts. When I look at him, I detect heat in his eyes.
I’m not unattractive, but I’m far out of this man’s league. And yes, he’s definitely a man, an alpha-looking one at that, who appea rs to be in his mid-thirties.
“There is no way you are sitting in that chair for a consult.” He breaks the standoff with a chuckle.
I find my voice. “Is something funny about that? Do you laugh at all your patients?”
“No. But you shouldn’t even be a client of mine.” His voice is deep and gravelly, and it just fuels that tingle between my legs.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I actually take offense, regardless that my panties are soaked through.
“That means a woman who looks like you shouldn’t change a goddamn thing, baby.”
“Baby? What is this? Aren’t you supposed to be a professional?” The endearment did things to me—not even my mother has ever called me that—but I refuse to give him the satisfaction, so I stay sitting up straight and fight the urge to rub my thighs together to relieve the ache at their apex.
“I don’t want to be professional. Not with you. Fucking look at you.” He gestures with his huge hand I immediately picture wrapped around my throat.
Where the hell did that thought come from?
I shake my head. “Oh my God, you just see a patient you like and approach her like she’s prey?”
“No. Just you.”
I roll my eyes, but the most shocking part of all this?
I’m not moving. No attempt to leave is being made. Why? And how is this man turning what should be deemed highly disrespectful and demeaning into something that’s making me feel powerful?
“I’m here for a consult. Maybe I should take my business elsewhere.” I finally stand and slide the strap of my purse up my arm and over my shoulder.
“I would recommend someone, but I refuse to do that.” He steps in front of me, our bodies mere inches apart, and I suck in a deep breath.
“Gideon.” What possesses me to use this stranger’s first name versus his professional name is beyond me, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t feel… destined or right.
“That sounds fucking beautiful coming from your mouth, Scarlett.”
Never has my name sounded like a prayer all while being highly sexual in tone, but Gideon Pierce… he managed it. He broke the code.
“I can’t work on perfection, but I will say I want to keep it in my hands, and I would be a goddamn fool if I let you leave here without agreeing to grab dinner with me.”
“Dinner?” Seriously? Am I awake? “Pinch me.”
He laughs, his Adam’s apple moving, another eye-level sign of his masculinity. “Pinch you?”
Shit. Did I say that out loud?
“I’m sorry, but this is insane. I can’t believe you just walked in here, complimented me, then asked me on a date.”
“Oh really?” Crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest, he lifts his chin and looks down at me. “So you’ve never been at a bar or somewhere and a man asked you out or offered to buy you a drink after some pathetic pickup line a real man like me would never dare use on a goddess like you?”
Scoffing to cover my delighted laugh, I match his stance, crossing my arms. “That was a pretty cheesy line if I ever heard one, and yes, as a matter of fact, I’m hit on while I bartend all the time, and I deny th—”
“Enough. First rule—we don’t talk about other men trying to date you. I’m a jealous lover, Scarlett. Now, how about that date?”
My eyes widen before I purposely narrow them, trying to appear haughty.
What kind of man did I just meet?
Chapter 2
Gideon
Something shifted in the air about fifteen minutes before I walked into the consultation room. And it wasn’t until I opened the door that I realized it must’ve been this ethereal creature entering my office.
She’s the most beautiful woman to ever walk into my building. The most beautiful woman on the Strip by far. Fuck, she’s even the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, and I’ve gotten plenty of women as close to visually perfect as physically possible through plastic surgery. I’m not just bragging; it’s a matter of science and mathematical formulas, symmetry.
And the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she would be mine. Not just in a sexual way either. No, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that this woman would become Mrs. Gideon Pierce. I glance down at my iPad. She’d be Mrs. Scarlett Pierce—and I’d do everything in my power to make that happen as quickly as possible. No way in fuck would I allow a woman as rare as her to slip through my fingers.
Minutes later, I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my life as she banters with me, squaring her slim shoulders, her perfect face twisting with haughtiness. “Why on God’s green earth do you think I’d want to go out on a date with you?”
I do nothing to hide my knowing smirk. “Because according to the flush starting between your exquisite breasts and working its way up to your cheekbones other women pay thousands for me to create with implants, you’re feeling exactly what I am. Even if you’re trying to hide it with that sassy fucking mouth.” I step closer, and since she’d been standing so close already, my body becomes flush with hers. I wrap my arm around her lower back, because in a surprising and ridiculously titillating show of confidence, she doesn’t take a step back.
Her sexy, bedroom eyes widen. “I—”
“Just say yes, Scarlett. Don’t waste either of our time. Give in to what we both clearly want,” I murmur, setting the iPad on the seat behind her so my arm can join the other wrapped around her.
She swallows thickly, her eyes shifting their focus from my right to my left, looking so deeply into my eyes I can feel her sifting through my very soul. She must find what she’s searching for, because her face softens and she sighs.
“Is YOLO still a thing?” she whispers.
I smile and tighten my grip on her, feeling those perfect breasts press to my abs, my dick growing hard against her flat belly. Images of her round and soft as she carries my baby fill my mind, and it’s so fucking beautiful I have to fight the urge not to spin her around and fuck her as she grips the cushioned seat so I can fill her up with my seed.
“If it’s not, then we’ll bring it back. Because we only do live once, and I don’t think I want to anymore unless you’re in my world,” I confess, and I see and feel her head jerk back a little in astonishment. Guys her age these days probably aren’t so honest, forthcoming with what they feel, instead choosing to play hard to get so the woman will chase after them. I don’t want to waste time fucking around. Scarlett now knows exactly what I want, can see the sincerity in my eyes, and now the ball is in her court.
Yes, I’m fucking aware it’s absolutely insane. I only met her five minutes ago. But there’s this feeling deep in my gut telling me to never let Scarlett go.
After another silent beat, she swallows again and nods shallowly, her voice soft when she finally replies, “Yes. I’ll go on a date with you.”
“Good,” I murmur, leaning down and pressing my nose to the side of her neck, inhaling her scent I never want to go another day without smelling. God, she’s so sweet, almost citrusy. Like orange blossoms. She shivers in my arms, and I finally pull back up to look at her once again.
“When?” she breathes.
“How about now?”
Her brows nearly reach her hairline and her pouty bottom lip drops for a moment before she catches herself. “Like, now-now? Don’t you have patients after my appointment? It’s only 10:00 a.m.”
“I’ll have my mom cancel them. You’re more important. I can reschedule everyone else. But you…” I shake my head. “You’re a once in a lifetime opportunity, Scarlett.”
She blinks rapidly but goes soft in my arms, and I take her weight. “Okay.” And then she tilts her head curiously, adorably. “Your mom?”
“Rose, the receptionist. She’s my mother,” I tell her, and her lips tilt up at the corners.
“She’s lovely,” she says, and I agree.
