I wake to Grayson snuggling me from behind and nuzzling my neck. “It’s time to get up, baby.”
I snuggle my backside against him and hold onto his arm where it’s draped around me. “Do I have to?”
“Believe me, baby, I want to keep you right here, but Delaney—”
I groan and roll over to face him. “I have to get up.” But I don’t. I run my fingers through his wonderfully thick dark hair. “How are you?”
“Baby, you’re home. I’m perfect.”
I know that’s not true. I know why he was holding that gun last night despite a monster of a man named Axe working our security. He is still spinning out of control, but he doesn’t give me time to press the topic or even open it up at all. He rolls out of bed—tall, dark, rippling with muscle, and perfectly naked—and takes me with him to the shower. I forget about my questions and worries for at least a little longer, because how can I not when he’s sinfully demanding in the shower, under a hot stream of water? A little while later, we stand at the double sinks together, engaging in our morning routine, sneaking peeks at each other and sharing smiles. Somehow after Ri attacked us, it’s all the more surreal, so very surreal.
With fifteen minutes to spare before we leave, and as used to be our routine, we end up in the kitchen sipping coffee—me in a navy-blue suit dress and him in a gray suit with a navy-blue tie that I picked for him. We flip on the news in the kitchen, scan for anything important, and find nothing. Satisfied for now, we turn it back off and relish our morning home together. Despite the “relish in each other” part of this morning, I feel the clawing of heavier topics demanding to be heard. I’m worried about Grayson. I can’t get that image of him holding that gun out of my mind. I’m about to press him to talk about how he’s really feeling when his cellphone rings. I sigh and lean against the island while he leans against the counter with the sink behind him and me in front of him. He murmurs, “It’s Blake,” before answering the call.
My nerves are instantly bouncing around and punching me in the chest and belly. I need this to be over. We need this Ri situation to be over, all of us. Somehow I manage to summon my best courtroom calm, and I even sip my coffee.
“Let me put you on speaker,” Grayson says and then, “Mia and Blake. You’re both on the line.”
“Morning, Mia,” Blake greets.
“Is it?” I challenge and set my mug on the counter, quickly correcting myself. “I mean, good morning. And thank you for everything you did last night.”
Grayson responds to my obvious edginess by closing the space between us, his legs shackling my legs, one hand at my waist. His eyes are warm—the message in their depths promising me that whatever is right or wrong, we’ll face it together.
“It is,” Blake assures me. “Really flipping good. And just so you know. Flipping doesn’t do that sentence justice, but my wife is on my ass over the F-word. It’s really f-ing good. I was up all night monitoring the Dungeon, on the dark web and otherwise. They’ve pulled out. They have their money. They’re satisfied. The FBI and CIA have them on their radar and are working to take down their operation. Apparently, they have been for a while now. Here’s where the really f-ing good comes into play. The FBI is offering you and your team immunity if you allow them to use your company to take them down.”
Grayson scowls. “Use my company? I don’t know if I like how that sounds.”
“With limits that you and your legal counsel set-up. I’m getting the deal to you to review with your team and to Reese. He’ll talk to you about a counter with your terms. Be happy. They want you to make this deal. This is going to be on your terms.”
“Why are they suddenly offering a deal?”
“Things change when you pit two agencies against the other. I have an ex-CIA agent on board who knows who to talk to. Once they tried to take over, the FBI changed their tune. You’re free. This is all but over. Celebrate. Eat chocolate, if my guys left you any. Drink champagne. Get married. Adrian and Axe are sleeping off the night. You have Jacob and Smith with you today. Both are quiet, unlike Adrian and Savage. May the force be with you and all of us.” He hangs up.
Grayson slides his phone into his pocket. “Well?” I ask, prodding for his feelings.
“I’m cautiously optimistic.”
I breathe out in relief. “Then so am I.”
He picks up my coffee and sips before offering it to me, turning the cup so that we drink from the same spot. His green eyes simmer with heat, sunshine on a winter’s day, sunshine on every winter day I could ever live. My belly flutters with the intimate act, that somehow is just as intimate as us naked in that shower. I sip the coffee and when I’m done, his hand covers mine over the mug.
“I think you better call the wedding planner, baby, any wedding planner that has the time to help. New Year’s Eve will be here before we know it.”
My lips curve and all that sunshine is pouring into me, warming all those cold spots that chilled me this past year. Optimism officially wins. Today is the day our new life really begins. Because today is the day my man, and sunshine, wins.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Mia
Smith and Jacob are both military types that stick with formalities like “yes, ma’am” and “how are you, sir?” I’d normally try to break through that stiffness and force them to be the real people they are, but today, I don’t. Once we’re in the back of the Escalade, I’m focused on Delaney and my case notes. My goal right now is to bring Reese and Delaney together in a way that sticks and then show them both a path to victory.
Grayson sits next to me, his big powerful leg pressed to mine, and peeks at my notes with my blessing. I want him to believe in this case, in Delaney, in me. His cellphone rings and he snags it from his pocket to show me the caller ID that reads, Eric.
Grayson answers and after a quick few words, he hangs up. “He heard about the offer. He wants to talk about it.”
This stiffens my spine. “And?”
“He wants to know the terms, but he’s cautiously optimistic.”
Cautiously optimistic, I repeat in my head. I keep hearing those words but I cling to them. I want this to be over, really over, but I also know Grayson. He can assess the deal, he’s a talented attorney himself, but that won’t be enough. He’ll want Eric and Davis, his confidants in different ways, to offer in-depth opinions, to pass along to Reese. This agreement is nothing but a verbal tease right now.
I force my focus back to my client notes and Grayson’s gaze catches on the controversial idea I have for Delaney’s defense. He reaches for my notepad. “Can I?”
“Of course,” I say, holding my breath as he scans the notes in more detail before those intelligent green eyes meet mine. “I think you need to be running our criminal law division.” It’s the biggest compliment I could ever get from anyone.
I’m warmed by his praise, my cheeks heating, but I force myself to remain dubious for Delaney’s sake. “I hope Reese is as approving of my strategy as you are.”
“If he doesn’t, she doesn’t need him.”
His confidence in my strategy matters and not just because I’m representing his firm and him, but because I care about what happens to Delaney.