If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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He stopped just inches from her, reaching out to gently brush a damp strand of hair behind her ear. His knuckles grazed her warm cheek, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second. "You survived the tycoons I see," Mary-Beth whispered playfully, her hands coming up to rest flat against the crisp white cotton of his dress shirt.
"Barely," Caleb murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that vibrated in his chest. "I left them fighting over hunting schedules. I couldn't spend another second away from you."
Mary-Beth looked up at him, her dark eyes shining with absolute, unfiltered adoration.
Caleb slowly slid his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. The sheer reality that they were finally alone, finally husband and wife, settled over them like a warm, heavy blanket.
"Before the world wakes up tomorrow," Caleb asked softly, his thumb gently stroking the curve of her waist, "I need to know where I am taking you. Where would you like to go for our honeymoon, Mary-Beth? I can charter a boat to the Caribbean, we can take a private ship to Paris, or we can buy a private island off the coast of Guarma. Whatever you want, it is yours."
Mary-Beth smiled, a genuinely heartfelt, incredibly tender expression that completely melted the hardened armor of the mafia Don. She reached up, her soft hands cupping his face, her thumbs lightly tracing the sharp line of his jaw.
"I don't need Paris, Caleb," Mary-Beth answered, her voice quiet but ringing with absolute, undeniable truth. "I don't need an island, and I don't need a grand adventure across the ocean. I spent my whole life running from one place to another, never feeling safe, never feeling like I belonged anywhere."
She stepped closer, the silk of her nightgown brushing against his trousers.
"I am exactly where I want to be," she whispered, her eyes locked onto his. "Just being able to spend time with you, waking up next to you, knowing that we are finally safe... that is the greatest gift in the world. This mountain, this room, with you. That is my honeymoon."
Caleb's heart swelled with a love so profound it physically ached in his chest. He looked down at the brilliant, beautiful, deeply grounded woman in his arms, entirely overwhelmed by her grace.
"Thank you," Caleb smiled warmly, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for choosing me, Mary-Beth."
"Always," she breathed.
The playful, conversational energy slowly faded, replaced by a heavy, magnetic pull. Caleb lowered his head, his lips meeting hers in a slow, impossibly tender kiss. It was no longer the triumphant, public display of the altar, this was a private and deep claiming.
Mary-Beth let out a soft, breathless sigh, her hands sliding up into his dark hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, the gentle tenderness giving way to a raw, rising passion.
Caleb's hands moved over her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine through the thin silk of her nightgown. The heat between them flared, fueled by months of anticipation, deep emotional connection, and the absolute certainty that they belonged to each other.
Caleb broke the kiss just long enough to trail his lips down the soft, sensitive skin of her jaw, pressing warm, lingering kisses along her neck. Mary-Beth's breath hitched, her fingers gripping his shoulders as a quiet, beautiful gasp escaped her lips.
With effortless strength, Caleb scooped her up into his arms. Mary-Beth wrapped her arms securely around his neck, her heart hammering against his chest as he carried her the few short steps to the massive, fur covered bed. He laid her down gently amidst the heavy down quilts, following her down onto the mattress.
The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing dancing shadows across the ceiling as Caleb slowly, deliberately shed the rest of his clothing. When he returned to her, the cool mountain air was instantly banished by the intense, radiating heat of their bodies. He hovered over her, supporting his weight on his forearms, looking down into her eyes with a fierce loving devotion.
"I love you," Caleb whispered, his voice rough with desire.
"I love you too," Mary-Beth replied, reaching up to pull him down to her.
The silk nightgown was discarded, falling away into the shadows. As skin finally met skin, the profound emotional closeness they shared ignited into a breathtaking, sensual intimacy. Every touch, every breathless whisper, and every passionate kiss was a testament to the life they had fought so hard to build.
In the quiet, absolute safety of their mountain sanctuary, they surrendered completely to one another, losing themselves in a deep, beautiful, and utterly consuming embrace that lasted long into the night, shutting the rest of the world entirely out.
The next morning, the bright, crisp winter sunlight crested the jagged peaks of the Grizzlies, flooding the Presidential suite with a brilliant, warm light.
Caleb and Mary-Beth woke up slowly, tangled together in the heavy down quilts. There was no rush, no impending danger, and no schedules to strictly adhere to. They spent the first hour of the morning simply lying in bed, talking quietly, stealing soft kisses, and reveling in the quiet, undeniable peace of their first morning as husband and wife.
Eventually, they rose and dressed in elegant, yet comfortable morning wear, Mary-Beth in a soft, tailored woolen dress of deep burgundy, and Caleb in a crisp white shirt, dark trousers, and a simple vest, leaving the heavy suit jacket behind.
They made their way downstairs, descending the grand staircase into the lively, bustling atmosphere of the hotel. The grand dining room was completely alive with energy.
The Tycoons and politicians were already awake, eagerly attacking the massive breakfast buffet that Strauss's chefs had laid out, stations overflowing with fresh mountain berries, cured bacon, thick cut ham, scrambled eggs, and steaming pots of rich, dark coffee.
Caleb and Mary-Beth were escorted to a private, sunlit table near the massive glass windows overlooking the valley. As they ate, enjoying the flawless food and the quiet hum of the wealthy patrons around them, the peace was gently, respectfully interrupted.
Approaching their table, looking incredibly sharp in his morning suit, was Mayor Lemieux of Saint Denis. But he wasn't alone. Flanking the Mayor were three heavily dressed, incredibly serious looking men whom Caleb instantly recognized, a prominent shipping magnate whose freighters controlled the eastern seaboard, a textile baron from the industrial district, and a senior executive from a major national bank.
The Mayor stopped a respectful distance from the table, removing his hat and bowing his head deeply.
"Don Thorne. Mrs. Thorne," Mayor Lemieux greeted them, his voice laced with the utmost polite deference. "I beg your for your forgiveness for interrupting your first morning. I know it is a gross violation of etiquette to discuss business at a wedding breakfast."
"Think nothing of it, Mayor," Caleb replied smoothly, setting his coffee cup down and wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. He didn't stand, maintaining his position of power. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"
The Mayor gestured to the three wealthy men standing nervously beside him.
"These gentlemen are some of the most influential captains of industry in Saint Denis," the Mayor explained, his eyes darting quickly to the massive spread of the hotel and back to Caleb. "And after witnessing the sheer scale of this estate, the revolutionary culinary operations you have deployed, and the absolute mastery of your new firearm technologies last night... they humbly requested an introduction."
The shipping magnate stepped forward, swallowing hard as he looked at the billionaire Don who had conquered the state in less than a year.
"Don Thorne," the magnate began, his voice carrying a mix of awe and desperate ambition. "We have seen the future you are building. The rumors in the city do not even begin to capture your logistical genius. We would be very honored if you would consider a meeting with us later this week. We have massive infrastructures, shipping lanes, and factories... but we believe they could be exponentially more profitable if they were to work together under the umbrella of the Thorne Holding Company."
Mary-Beth looked at Caleb, a proud, knowing smile touching her lips. The men weren't coming to fight him. They weren't coming to extort him. They were coming to built their cooperations with him, desperate to be a part of the unstoppable juggernaut he had created.
Caleb leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes assessing the men with cold, calculating, and brilliant corporate precision. The wedding hadn't just secured his personal happiness, it had acted as a massive, blinding beacon of power, drawing the remaining titans of industry directly to his doorstep.
"I appreciate your candor, gentlemen," Caleb smiled warmly, the terrifying intellect of the CEO flashing in his eyes. He reached out and gently took Mary-Beth's hand, signaling that his empire and his marriage were completely, inseparably intertwined. "Enjoy the buffet. Go hunt with the new rifles. When you return to Saint Denis on Monday... my lawyers will be in touch. We have a great deal of business to discuss."
The men bowed deeply, profusely thanking him before retreating to the dining room. Caleb looked out the window at the snow capped mountains.
His grip tightened affectionately on Mary-Beth's hand as he watched the three titans of industry retreat toward the buffet lines. The unspoken surrender of their empires to the Thorne Holding Company was a monumental victory, a silent acquisition that would generate millions, but for the next few days, Caleb refused to let corporate strategy consume him. He had built this sanctuary for a reason.
"Now," Caleb murmured, turning his full attention back to his bride, a soft, indulgent smile crossing his face. "Unless the Governor himself walks through those doors, I believe my schedule is entirely clear. What would Mrs. Thorne like to do with our first afternoon?"
Mary-Beth smiled, a genuinely relaxed, radiant expression. For the first time in her life, there was no pressing danger, no camp chores, and no fear of the law. "I think," she began, resting her chin on her hand, "I would like to explore this beautiful hotel of ours. Properly, this time. And then, perhaps, sit by the fire and do absolutely nothing."
"A perfect plan," Caleb agreed.
For the next two days, Caleb and Mary-Beth completely insulated themselves from the chaotic, bustling energy of the guests. They spent their private time together enjoying the hotel's staggering array of amenities and services, finally able to relax and breathe after the monumental stress of the wedding and everything that had come before it.
They visited the heated indoor bathing pools, the warm, mineral rich water soothing muscles that had spent months tense with anticipation. They took quiet walks along the secure, heavily guarded trails immediately surrounding the hotel, breathing in the sharp, pine-scented mountain air.
They spent their evenings in the Presidential suite, wrapped in heavy furs by the fire, reading books, sharing quiet conversation, and enjoying the deep, uninterrupted intimacy of their new marriage.
While the newlyweds found their sanctuary, the hunting adventure side of the hotel remained extremely, almost violently busy.
The wealthy tycoons and politicians who had attended the wedding were absolutely obsessed with the new Thorne-Marlin 'Apex' Scout rifles. Many of these rich and influential men, accustomed to getting whatever they wanted, were desperate to try the exclusive weapon and later brag at their private clubs in Saint Denis about having used a rifle that wasn't even on the market yet.
The sheer exclusivity of the experience drove the demand through the roof. They treated the whole excursion as something deeply prestigious, a status symbol that money couldn't simply buy outright.
Charles served as the primary overseer of these hunting trips. Caleb had explicitly placed him in charge, knowing that Charles possessed a reverence for the land that these industrialists severely lacked.
Charles organized the guests into four distinct groups, personally accompanying one of the groups under his strict supervision deep into the rugged wilderness of West Elizabeth.
The tycoons who were lucky enough to get Charles as their guide were overwhelmingly satisfied. Charles didn't just point out targets; he showed them the raw, unforgiving nature of the mountains. He tracked massive bull elk through the snow, identifying subtle shifts in the wind and signs of predatory movement with a quiet, undeniable expertise.
He handled the excursion with such confidence and skill that even the most arrogant railroad barons found themselves following his quiet commands without question. And when they finally lined up their shots, the Apex rifles performed flawlessly, dropping game with clean, precise efficiency.
The hunting trips proved to be an absolute goldmine. Because Caleb was charging astronomical rental fees for the rifles and premium rates for the guided excursions, the hunting lodge generated a staggering amount of revenue over the course of just three days.
Herr Strauss, sitting behind his mahogany desk in the manager's office, meticulously calculated the incoming profits. The numbers were so high that the Austrian accountant immediately made a strategic and pragmatic corporate decision.
Strauss drafted a series of heavy canvas envelopes and personally descended into the kitchens and staff quarters. He used a significant portion of that weekend's hunting income to give massive bonus wages to every single one of the hotel employees, from the Parisian chefs to the stable boys.
"For your exceptional service during the Don's wedding," Strauss announced, handing a thick envelope of cash to a stunned maid.
The effect was instantaneous. The sudden, generous influx of cash raised morale to an absolute fever pitch. It strengthened their loyalty to the Thorne Holding Company, practically ensuring that these highly trained workers would never get poached by rival hotels or wealthy families back in the city. The hotel was no longer just a building, it was beginning to function as a highly successful, incredibly well run corporate operation that rewarded its people.
Amidst the roaring success of the hotel and the quiet bliss of the newlyweds, other relationships within the inner circle were beginning to quietly, profoundly blossom.
On the second afternoon following the wedding, Tilly Jackson and Pierre were taking a slow, leisurely walk together through the hotel. Pierre, having temporarily abandoned his frantic legal briefs, was entirely focused on the beautiful, intelligent young woman walking beside him.
They eventually stopped on the sprawling second floor balcony, leaning against the polished stone balustrade. The view was breathtaking, they could look out over the snow dusted rooftops of Strawberry and the sprawling, untamed nature of the valley beyond.
The setting was quiet, incredibly beautiful, and completely isolated from the noise of the tycoons downstairs.
Pierre adjusted his wire rimmed spectacles, his heart suddenly hammering against his ribs with a force that rivaled any courtroom battle he had ever faced. He took a deep, steadying breath, his hands trembling slightly as he reached into the pocket of his tailored suit.
Tilly was looking out at the mountains, a soft smile on her face. "It's so peaceful up here," she murmured, the cold air turning her breath to mist. "I never thought I'd see a place like this. Not outside of a picture book."
"Tilly," Pierre said softly, his voice catching slightly in his throat.
She turned, her smile widening. "Yes, Pierre?"
Suddenly, Pierre took a step back and went down on one knee onto the cold stone of the balcony.
Tilly gasped, her hands instantly flying to her mouth, her dark eyes widening in absolute, paralyzing shock as Pierre pulled a small velvet box of his own from his pocket and opened it, revealing a beautiful, elegant diamond ring.
"Tilly," Pierre began, his voice trembling with deep, absolute sincerity. He looked up at her, shedding every ounce of his polished corporate armor. "I know... I know that we have only known each other for several months. In the grand scheme of things, it is a very short amount of time. But every single moment I have spent with you has been the greatest privilege of my life. I feel, with every fiber of my being, that it is time for us to take the next serious step in our relationship."
Tilly let out a choked, beautiful sob, tears already welling up in her eyes.
"Watching the joy between Don Thorne and Madam Mary-Beth during the ceremony," Pierre continued, his voice steadying as he poured his heart out, "and then... seeing you catch that bouquet. It felt like the universe was shouting at me. It made me realize that this is what I truly want to do. I want to build a life with you, Tilly. I want to protect you, and love you, and give you the world you deserve."
Pierre held the ring up, his eyes shining with unshed tears of his own. "Tilly Jackson, will you do me the absolute honor of becoming my wife?"
Tilly couldn't speak for a moment. She was deeply, profoundly moved. She had spent years running from violence, surviving by the skin of her teeth, terrified of the shadows. And now, a brilliant, kind, and incredibly successful man was kneeling before her, offering her a future filled with safety and love.
She was crying openly now, tears of pure, overwhelming joy streaming down her cheeks.
"Yes," Tilly finally managed to choke out, nodding her head vigorously. "Yes, Pierre! Yes, I will marry you!"
Pierre let out a breathless laugh of pure relief. He stood up, gently slipping the diamond ring onto her trembling finger, before pulling her into a tight, incredibly romantic embrace, kissing her deeply under the cold mountain sky.
The proposal felt entirely natural, deeply earned, and incredibly meaningful, a beautiful continuation of the love that had been cemented during the wedding.
Elsewhere in the sprawling estate, love was manifesting in quieter, more wistful ways.
Arthur was spending the afternoon with Mary Linton. Caleb had personally ensured that Mary received an invitation and a safe, private escort to the mountains. The two of them were sitting together in a secluded corner of the hotel's massive, glass enclosed conservatory, surrounded by blooming winter orchids. They were enjoying a quiet, deeply intimate date after attending the grand spectacle of the wedding.
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 2,772 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 283,392 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -