They're in Las Vegas because Jasper's parents decided they want to know their granddaughter, all of a sudden.

Jasper's on edge because he knows they're lying and just want to extort money from them in exchange for their silence about his past.

Eleanor is more than happy to whip out her chequebook and make the problem go away, but he's hesitant because he knows how they operate.

They left Joanna at home with her nanny. They don't plan on staying long.

Still, it's the longest Eleanor's been away from their daughter since she's been born and she misses her and she's nervous.

They walk into the hotel restaurant and try to greet them like they're the best of friends. Like Eleanor is their favourite soon to be daughter in law.

She's disgusted because she can see it's all an act.

They don't ask about Joanna.

Jasper cuts to the chase and tells them they need to leave them the hell alone, or he'll go to the FBI because he's going to have diplomatic immunity when he marries her.

They're back on the jet within two hours.

Eleanor unconsciously crosses her legs as she watches Jasper tie his tie in her vanity mirror. He's wearing a tailored two piece navy blue Burberry suit. And goddamn does he look good in it.

Tonight's their official engagement party.

Eleanor knows few people the guest list, and he knows even less.

She knows it has to be done because they live in a monarchy and that's what they do.

They're not setting a date until Joanna can walk more than five feet without falling, because Eleanor wants her to be the flower girl. It's unusually long for a royal engagement, and Eleanor blames it on her mudblood fiancé when her mother starts pushing for more detailed wedding plans. The truth is, she doesn't care. She's fine with how their life is.

He turns to face her, a small smile on his lips. He's adapted so well to her lifestyle. Jasper goes with her to scheduled events and he answers questions from reporters with practiced ease. He's well informed and talks politics with politicians like they're discussing the weather.

He's well liked because he offers a different perspective because he's not British.

He's an excellent father.

She knows he's determined to be, because his own was shit.

And because Joanna is their daughter, he's protective to boot. If she thought he was annoying with her way back when, it's nothing compared to how he is with Joanna.

It's sexy as hell when it's not her he's worrying about.

"What's on your mind?" He asks, lifting her champagne flute to his lips, and drains the glass.

"Just remembering how annoying you used to be," she says easily as she rises to her feet. She's wearing a long figure-hugging, sleeveless, champagne-coloured gown.

He thinks she looks like an angel, he won't voice it out loud because he knows she'll laugh. "You look beautiful," he offers instead, wrapping an arm around her slim waist from behind and pulls her in close. His fist bunches a handful of silk on her hip. "I can't wait to take this off of you later."

Jasper's breath is hot against her ear, and she likes it. She turns her lips to his rough cheek and smiles. "I think you'll like taking off what's under it more."

He releases her, groaning.

He knew he had seen a La Perla bag in the closet, and can only imagine what scraps of fabric she's got on underneath that damn dress.

Eleanor doesn't disappoint.

Hours later, Jasper drags the zipper down her back and his breath hitches in his throat as a black lace bandeau is revealed to him in the moonlight.

Nothing gets him going more the sight of black lingerie against her pale skin. Nothing.

He keeps going, and the zipper stops in her lower back. He presses his lips to her bare neck, pushing her hair over her opposite shoulder as her dress falls into a silky puddle at her feet.

Jasper pulls back slightly and looks down.

"Oh fuck," he moans, taking in the matching cheek-hugging lace knickers that are molded to her perfect, pert behind like a second skin.

He would have knocked her up ages ago had he known what lasting effects pregnancy would have had on her.

Eleanor's always been perfect in his eyes. Now, because she's still breastfeeding, she's got a fucking nice set of tits that definitely weren't there before.

She hit the gym for a few months after Joanna was born with him, begrudgingly. He made her do squats. He's quite certain he could bounce a quarter off of her ass, but she won't let him try.

Eleanor is all his.

He is all hers.

She spins in his arms and frames his face in her hands, her fingers lightly scratching at his whiskers. There's still faint traces of red lipstick on her mouth, but he doesn't care.

"You like?" She asks innocently.

"I'll like it even better when it's on the carpet," he growls, his hands sliding from her shoulders, down her back, to expertly cup her behind. He purposefully digs his fingers into her ass as he pushes her against him.

Eleanor can feel him harden through his soft cotton trousers, and she wants it. She needs it.

Wordlessly, she loosens his belt, undoes his button, and drags down his zipper. She reaches in and cups him through the soft material of his boxers, and squeezes gently.

The baby's with the nanny tonight.

There will be no interruptions.

He abruptly releases her, and takes a step back as she stumbles into the back of the sofa, and braces herself against it.

"Take off your bra, Eleanor." He commands, loosening his silk tie. Jasper pulls it free from his neck as she reaches behind herself and undoes the clasps holding it together.

It falls to the floor, and she looks up at him coquettishly as her hair falls over her bare shoulders.

He sheds his shirt and undershirt. His eyes don't leave hers. "Turn around, and take off your underwear. Slowly."

Jasper steps out of his trousers as she slowly turns. He watches her, his eyes lingering on her long, beautiful back. His gaze lowers as she bends over, hooks her fingers in the sides of her knickers. He grips the side of the chair next to him; it's taking everything he's got not to take control of the situation and rip them off of her.

He's enjoying the show too much to make a move.

Eleanor slides them down her narrow thighs, and lets them free fall the rest of the way to the floor before she straightens up.

She doesn't turn around as he approaches her.

They're not going to make it to the bed.

He lowers his boxers, and his erection bounces free and he wastes no time pushing up against her behind and pressing his lips to her neck, and makes his way up to her ear.

"Do you want me to take you right here, Len?" He says roughly in her ear as one arm snakes around her waist, holding her in place.

Eleanor's grip on the sofa tightens at his words. She's already soaked just thinking about it. "Yes."

"Good answer."

Wordlessly, he holds onto her waist with one arm, and bends slightly to lift her leg up on the edge of the sofa. He's so thankful that she's got long legs, but that's another tale for another time.

His fingers move at an agonizingly slow pace along her inner thigh, before he reaches her delicate folds and easily slides two fingers inside of her. She's more than ready for him.

She always is.

Jasper grips her leg behind her knee, and eases himself inside of her. He sets her leg down and bends slightly, watching as she grips the sofa in front of her. He wraps his free hand in her hair, pulling her head back so he can kiss her as he abruptly pulls out, and then slams back into her.

Her cry is muffled by his mouth as they share the same hot, ragged breath. Her hand flies up and tangles in his hair as she kisses him as he takes her over and over and over.

He lets her go, and she bends forward, and he goes impossibly deeper inside of her. He swats her behind, leaving a harsh red imprint of his hand on her pale flesh.

"Eugh," she moans, and he can feel her tightening around him. He smirks. Even now, after all of it - she still likes it rough. So does he.

Jasper reaches around her waist and presses his front flush against her back, his breathing haggard against her neck as he reaches between her legs and touches her.

A harsh "fuck Jasper," falls from her lips as his hand moves expertly against her. How in the hell can he be in so many places at once?

"Cum for me, baby," he says harshly in her ear as he pinches her clit. "I wanna feel your pussy cum all over my cock."

She's lost it at his words, and he's slamming into her so hard the sofa moves in front of her, scraping across the wooden floor. She comes hard, moaning loudly. There's no one else in her corridor, and she doesn't care if anyone hears her anyway.

His teeth sink into the delicate flesh of her shoulder as he holds her so tightly she's sure there's going to be marks in the morning. She can feel him pulsing inside of her as he groans into her neck. It's a harsh, primal, and masculine sound that she knows has always been reserved just for her. Because she damn well knows that no one has ever fucked him as good as she does.

Jasper doesn't let go very often, for a number of reasons that he's still working through. But when he does, she thinks it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

He stills against her, and presses his sweaty forehead to the back of her head as several harsh pants hit her neck as he tries to catch his breath.

Eleanor's body slacks as he pulls out of her. Her legs feel like jelly as she slowly turns around.

"Hey," he says softly, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches her slowly approach him. The smug bastard knows he did good.

"Hey yourself," she brushes a few stray hairs out of her face and steps into his embrace, and places her hands on his chest, and frowns slightly. "You're sweaty."

"So are you," he fires back, his fingers feeling along the damp skin in the small of her back. Her eyes flash up to his, but she doesn't reply. "Shower?" He deadpans.

Her eyes linger on his, her expression a mix of a scowl from his previous comment, and shameless adoration.

His eyes sparkle with dark mirth as he stares back at her with raised eyebrows, awaiting her answer. Eleanor presses her lips into a thin line, and then she nods.

Joanna's turning one in a matter of weeks and Eleanor's determined not to let her mother have a single say in any of it.

They've rowed several times, because Helena wants to show off her granddaughter, and Eleanor doesn't. It still resonates with her how many birthdays that she and Liam had that were ruined by her wanting to throw an unnecessary gala.

Joanna loves Peppa Pig, and Eleanor's determined to give her a goddamn Peppa Pig party if it's the last thing she does.

"She's not the bloody future queen, mother!" Eleanor screeches as she storms around the throne room like a hurricane. Helena looks slightly taken aback at her daughter's outburst. "I won't let you ruin this like you ruined it for Liam and I. I won't!"

There's a tour going through the palace, and the throne room is usually vacant for it, but Eleanor and Helena have been fighting all morning and that's where the two have ended up.

A group of tourists and their guide stand slack jawed as they watch the Princess go toe to toe with the Dowager Queen.

Eleanor sees them first, and she's seething. She storms off in the opposite direction, her boots clicking rhythmically off of the marble floor as she goes.

Two days later, Helena admits defeat, and Eleanor gets her way.

Eleanor's hired a party planner to help, but she's determined to do most of the decorating herself. She knows that Joanna will never remember the party, but the sentiment needs to resonate. It has to.

She wants her daughter to know that she tried.

So she sits exhausted, watching her daughter tumble around the garden with other children, acting like true children, as several adults look on as if they're not quite sure what to make of the situation.

Her mother's torn between keeping her mouth shut like Eleanor has told her to do, and telling the children to act like the royalty and upper class citizens that they are.

"You're enjoying this too much," Jasper quips, pushing a plastic cup of punch into her hands. She sniffs it, hoping he's laced it for her.

He hasn't.

Eleanor shrugs and takes a drink, and then sputters. It's pure sugar.

"Willow's pregnant again," she comments quietly. "Liam will have his heir and spare. He doesn't know yet, she's going to tell him tonight."

His hand tenses on her shoulder because he knows what this means for her.

If Eleanor's out, then Joanna's definitely out.

She's free.

"We can move out, you know," Eleanor tilts her head back to look at him. "We have property elsewhere in the city we can live that's just as private as this is, if not more. Or the country."

"Maybe after the wedding," he says lightly, his eyes flicking briefly over to their daughter who's got Simon pinned on the grass. "OI! JOANNA!" he suddenly bellows across the lawn.

In the months that he's been back in England, Jasper's accent has gone all wonky again and he's picked up on far too many British euphemisms. Liam teases him about it mercifully. Eleanor finds it endearing.

Joanna shoots off Simon like someone's lit a fire under her, laughing as Simon's back on his feet, chasing after her.

"Mm, yes," she groans. "Alright, then. Six months. We're doing it."

Jasper pulls out his phone and scrolls through the calendar. "November," he says, "...20th? It's a Saturday, babe."

"Whatever," she waves her hand, indicating she's done with the conversation. He catches it in his, and slowly brings it up to his lips.

"Why are you so cranky today? I thought you'd be in a good mood," he murmurs, sitting down on the bench next to her. Eleanor lays her head on his chest and makes herself comfortable against him. He's still holding onto her hand.

"Well excuse me! I've been up since six, working on this," she snaps, gesturing to the party, "while you decided to have a lie in with the baby."

"Not my fault she wanted to sleep with me," he fires back. "You're too bony to cuddle. I don't blame her."

"Fuck yourself, Jasper," she sighs.

"I love you, too," he says, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and presses his lips to the top of her head.

He's still far from perfect. He's still arrogant and slightly controlling.

She has none of it. Nobody can put Jasper Frost in his place, except for her.

She's still pretentious and mouthy, and he's the only one besides Liam with enough balls dish the clapback right back to her.

But it's their dynamic, and they love each other. They love their daughter, and are both dead-set on making sure she knows it.

There isn't much they don't agree on, but ensuring that their daughter doesn't have the same upbringing that they were both subjected to- on both ends of the spectrum- is something they put up a united front for.

They're finally genuinely happy.

And that's more than enough.