He let her.
Then he held her when her knees buckled, and she collapsed into something that resembled a hug. It was all so surreal. I didn’t know what to make of it. I was guessing none of his employees knew how to handle it either because I saw the curious stares through the glass wall.
“I can’t,” she mumbled into his chest, clutching on to his clothes, letting her makeup stain his pristine baby-blue dress shirt. “I can’t go back to being poor. Baron, please. Baron, I will die.”
“Shhh…” He patted her head in a way that was almost fatherly. “It’s over, Jo. You had a nice ride, but you hijacked the fucking vehicle. Did you really think you would get away with it? What am I saying, of course you did, you stupid little thing. But it’s done. The war is over, and the good guys won.”
“You’re not a good person,” she sniffed.
He grinned.
“My mom was.”
I ended up sleeping at his place that day. I still didn’t talk to him about my resignation. It seemed inappropriate to talk about anything else other than what happened with Jo, and besides, he had a lot of phone calls to make to Eli Cole, Mr. Viteri, and other people who were going to handle the mountains of paperwork involved with Jo relinquishing her claim to Baron Spencer Senior’s estate.
Vicious even made sure his stepmother was going to give back the jewelry and designer dresses she’d retrieved before the house burned down. Every single one of them. I was actually surprised he didn’t alert every pawnshop on the East Coast not to deal with his stepmother. He was busy avenging. Busy being bad. And I let him.
That night, we had sex like we used to before he flew to Todos Santos. Brutal. Hungry. He was detached, but I didn’t care. I knew he’d come back to me eventually. And he did.
The next morning, I woke up to find a breakfast of Greek yogurt and fruit waiting for me. Vicious always ate like a rich person. Which meant he wasn’t big on carbs and he liked his protein lean and his vegetables organic.
“Where are my eggs and bacon?” I pouted at the table like the food personally offended me, but internally I was smiling. He’d arranged a table full of coffee, orange juice, and carefully cut fruit while I was busy snoring.
Vicious threw a cool glance over his shoulder from the kitchen and raised one eyebrow. “Holy shit. You stayed the night. Didn’t I call you a taxi?”
I grinned and held my stomach as I pretended to laugh, then sat down and dug into the yogurt. My mouth was full when I spoke. “So I need to tell you something.”
“Okay, but I need to tell you something first.” He turned around and walked to the table, holding his coffee cup. His jaw ticked once and he swallowed. “I want to strike another deal with Dean. I was thinking of maybe extending my stay for another six months, but I wouldn’t be able to give him another ten percent. I would if I could, and fuck the company and my shares in it. It’s not the money. But Jaime and Trent would never sign on for this shit. Maybe I can convince Dean to sell some of his shares to them—”
I stopped him right there, because he was talking nonsense, and even though I appreciated the gesture, I didn’t want to watch him flushing his career down the toilet just so I could explore mine.
“I resigned,” I said serenely.
He raised his eyes to meet mine. There was hope and confusion in them. “What?”
“I resigned. I’m coming with you. Rosie is staying here with Hal. I asked her to join me, but she wants to give their relationship a try, and besides, she would never live anywhere other than New York. I told her she didn’t even give LA a chance—”
He cut me off. “Emilia, no disrespect, but who gives a flying fuck about your sister? Rewind. You’re moving with me to Los Angeles?”
I got up from my chair on wobbly legs and smiled sheepishly. “Surprise…?”
He grabbed me and flung me in the air like I was a little kid, spinning me in place, his face happier than I’d ever seen it. I took a breath between kisses, knowing it was going to develop into something more, something a lot more, to tell him what my condition was. Because there was a condition. And it had to be fulfilled.
“One thing,” I said.
“Anything,” he promised.
“I want you to let Rosie rent back this apartment. I don’t like her living in a bad neighborhood. I think she and Hal are going to move in together anyway, so they can probably afford the rent.”
“They won’t have to afford the rent. Maybe a few hundred dollars for legal purposes, but not the whole thing. I promise you. And she can stay here, yes. I’ll make sure of it.”
I nodded. “So I’m going to be an LA girl.” There was a beat of silence. We both smiled.
“I love you.” He grinned like the boy I was once so desperate to impress.
“I loved you first,” I teased like the girl who knew deep down he always liked her too.
“Not possible.” He kissed me hard, his tongue sliding into my mouth. Then he leaned back. “I loved you since you told me your friends called you Millie. Even then, when I caught you eavesdropping, I knew I wasn’t gonna call you that, because you weren’t going to be my fucking friend. You were destined to be my wife.”
Two Months Later
“THIS IS STUPID,” I SAID, hands in my pockets, still leaning against the wall outside the birthing room. I hated Chicago. I also hated New York. Come to think of it, I pretty much hated everywhere that wasn’t Los Angeles or my fiancée’s pussy. Lucky for me, I lived in both places.
“It can take up to two days.” Jaime blew out a breath and rubbed his eyes, pacing back and forth. “Melody was in labor for eighteen hours before she had Daria.”
“Dang.” Emilia snapped her head from the sketchpad on her knees and swiped her eyes along Melody’s tiny body.
My former Lit teacher, turned my best friend’s wife, was sitting next to us, reading on her Kindle. Her eyes shot up from the screen. A smirk formed on her lips. “Oh, yeah. And I was induced. Fun times.”
“I’m never having kids.” Emilia shook her head, her mouth falling open in shock. She wore baby-blue jeans, a green tank top, and her pink hair had flowers in it.
I lifted an eyebrow and jutted out my lower lip. “Thanks for the news. Next time, break it on national television.”
I didn’t care, though. The last thing I wanted was to share my soon-to-be wife with someone else. And kids could be demanding. We had ten years of acting like two idiots to catch up on. Maybe in three, four, six years. In the immediate future, though? No fucking chance.
She sent me a sly smile. “We’ve discussed it. You hate kids.”
“Hate is a strong word. I don’t care for them.” I shrugged. “And fuck, I can’t believe Trent is going to be a dad.”
Just as I said it, a doctor in green scrubs—or were they blue?—passed us by in the hallway and shot me a dirty look. Guess I should be more careful about dropping the f-bomb every two seconds in this place.
“It’s ridiculous,” Jaime agreed.
We heard footfalls, and Dean appeared down the hallway, running in our direction, clutching the hand of a young woman I didn’t know. I couldn’t decide who was a bigger manwhore, him or Trent. Although, now that Trent was going to be a dad, I guessed a lot of things were going to change for him.