by Leigh, Tara
I’d assumed Juliana’s experience with The Network was entirely positive. But maybe it wasn’t.
When I left Aislinn to add our names to the dartboard, I also talked through my suspicions with Finley. She agreed to “confide” in Juliana that Aislinn has been on the hunt for a mole in my organization and asked her to come back to the apartment to talk privately.
Finley would let Juliana know she wouldn’t be leaving the office for several hours, and come up with a bullshit excuse to get Aislinn back to her apartment.
If I was wrong about Juliana, nothing would happen.
But if I was right, Juliana would want to plead her case to Aislinn.
I pull out my phone the minute the door closes, and log into Finley’s security system. I am out of my car by the time Juliana appears on my screen.
White hot rage floods my veins when I see her lift something—a vase, maybe—and bring it down over Aislinn’s head.
But that rage turns to terror when Lytton makes an appearance. What. The. Fuck?
I’d taken Sebastián Cruz’s word that Lytton had disappeared, scared off when he heard about what I’d done to Michael. As I bound up the stairs, I’m cursing my carelessness at telling Burke and my guys to stand back.
Finley’s front door flies open from the impact of my shoulder and I skid to a stop just as Lytton wraps an arm around Aislinn’s neck, his other hand gripping a knife pointed at her jugular.
Time slows instantly, my vision tunneling to the three people less than twenty feet away from me and the drawn weapon that could have the love of my life bleeding out in front of me with a careless flick of the wrist. Aislinn is quiet, her eyelids fluttering.
My stance changes from offensive to defensive. I haven’t drawn my gun, and my own knife is still tucked at my ankle. Slowly, I extend my arms, palms facing out so Lytton can see that they’re empty. “Let go of my girl and you can walk out of here.”
He shakes his head. “And walk straight into a trap? I don’t think so.”
“Fine. Tell me your endgame. As long as it includes Aislinn alive and unharmed, it’s yours.”
“My endgame was—is—your money, King. Make that happen and we’ve got a deal.”
My eyes shift to Juliana. “What about you? What do you want out of this?”
She glances at Lytton, taking a tiny step away from him. “I just wanted to shut down The Network, to change the way you do things.”
“So you teamed up with this asshole?”
At Juliana’s wince, I have my answer. Lytton played her and she fell for him.
“Fuck off,” Lytton spits. “I was going to take your place. Become the conduit between politicians and crime bosses. It took some pressure, but—”
“By pressure, you mean exposing his money launderer?”
“Yes. And we couldn’t just get rid of you, not without getting access to your crypto-cash first.”
“It wasn’t about the money,” Juliana yells, taking another step to the side.
Lytton flashes her an exasperated look. “It’s always about the goddamn money.”
“Fine. Put down the knife and I’ll give you whatever you want.” Not true, of course. Chad Lytton is as good as dead, but not until Aislinn is safe.
A fact of which he is well aware.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. Aislinn winces as the knife digs into the flesh of her neck, a bright red drop rolling down her creamy skin. “You’re not winning this one.”
Burke and my team will be here any second. But they could easily make things worse. I need to end this now.
“Damon’s a really sore loser,” Aislinn manages to wheeze. “It’s much better to be on his team.” She lifts her knee and stomps her pointed heel into Lytton’s shoe at the same time as she spins to the side.
I’m across the room before he’s even gathered breath to yell, catching his wrist and using my forward momentum to turn the blade on him. “Checkmate, motherfucker.” It plunges through the soft space between Lytton’s collarbone like room-temperature butter.
I let him drop to the ground and sweep Aislinn into my arms, keeping an eye on Juliana who has backed her way into the corner, hands covering her mouth as tears stream from her eyes.
“You make a good teammate, princess. But I’m done playing—the stakes are too high.”
Epilogue
AISLINN
TWO MONTHS LATER
On our flight to the Seychelles, I made Damon promise to try my favorite drink of all time: the piña colada.
We arrived a few hours ago, were escorted to our private villa, and wasted no time ordering drinks and slipping into our private plunge pool. “Try it,” I say, tapping the husk of my pineapple against the husk of Damon’s, then biting my lip to stifle a laugh as the tip of his umbrella pokes him in the eye.
He shoots me a wry look, yanking the offending embellishment from his drink and tossing it aside. “I thought I gave the staff specific instructions: the umbrellas are for my wife, only.”
I set my drink down and maneuver myself to straddle Damon’s lean hips, my naked breasts skimming his muscled torso with each inhale. “Yes. And your wife counteracted that order. Umbrellas for the happy couple.”
He dips his fingers into the fruity concoction, scooping some out and dabbing a generous portion on my nipples. I gasp as they furl into needy peaks, though I don’t pull away. When Damon’s fingers trace the line of my clavicle and the pulsing hollow between, I am staring directly into his dark, burning gaze. “We are, aren’t we?” There’s an air of surprise in his rumbled baritone.
Not at us, exactly. His surprise is directed inward, aimed at that little boy still inside of him. The one who believed himself unworthy of happiness. The one who felt doomed to loss and heartbreak. To a life where joy came from the destruction of his enemies rather than shared triumphs with his allies.
And I am definitely Damon King’s ally. His partner in life and love.
His princess and his queen.
His wife.
“Yes. We most certainly are,” I agree, just before his mouth closes over one of my breasts, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as my head falls back, the wet ringlets of my hair sliding down my back and into the clear blue water surrounding us.
Happiness is definitely in our grasp these days. It is a hard-won, precious thing. A state of being Damon and I have grabbed with relentless determination. And gratitude. As firmly and fiercely as we embrace each other right now.
Our journey has been rocky, to say the least. After that night in Finley’s apartment, I wasn’t at all sure we would be capable of finding a balance.
And I wasn’t sure that love, even when I was holding those Scrabble tiles in my hands, would be enough. What we had was real—but would it be enough to carry us through the highest highs and the lowest lows? Could we find a mutually acceptable plateau, a place to be … happy?
Our honeymoon is a temporary respite from the barely controlled chaos of our lives in New York City, and a much-needed opportunity to rest and recharge.
When we return, in addition to my commitment to The Network, I will have a mayoral campaign to run, although it won’t be my father’s. He recently announced his intent to step down from office after his term, and that despite rumors to the contrary, his future plans do not include Gracie Mansion. I am throwing my support behind a candidate both Damon and I back wholeheartedly. Davina Richardson. She will win—not just because I am damn good at my job. But because she is the woman our city deserves. And I will make sure every eligible voter knows it.
My mother is still holding on. Slipping further and further into her own mind every day, but she seems happy there. Once or twice, when I’ve sat quietly at her side for long enough, she will even share stories of her and Ace. She’s not actually talking to me, more like recounting her memories to herself. But the past, specifically her past with Ace, has become my mother’s own happy place. I don’t begrudge her that, at all.
Finley has becom
e more like a sister every day. We bicker and drive each other batty, but she is my family now and I love her. More than that. I respect her. And thankfully, the feeling is entirely mutual.
Juliana … Well, Damon and I weren’t sure what to do about Juliana. Once I got him to see beyond his rage at Juliana’s betrayal, he realized that her actions were an extension of the damage caused by domestic abuse. She agreed to check into an inpatient recovery center and I’ve visited her several times already and used her experiences to make The Network more supportive of families after we transition them into new lives.
Life is good. And it’s about to get even better.
Damon pulls off my breast, swirls more of his cold drink around his mouth and licks his way up my neck with firm, cold strokes. Goose bumps prickle my flesh, chills racing down my spine. Neither of us are wearing bathing suits, and with a roll of my hips, Damon’s cock is notched at my entrance. His hands wrap around my waist, pushing my body down through the buoyancy of the water.
“Like puzzle pieces,” I say on a sigh, marveling at the perfect way we fit together.
“You gonna come apart on me?” he growls, his still cold tongue pushing between my lips.
I don’t answer. I can’t. Our kiss deepens, shards of my composure breaking loose as we begin moving against each other.
Besides, the answer is obvious. Yes. Yes, I’m going to come apart in Damon’s arms. Just as I’ve done hundreds of times before. Not only will he be there to catch me, but his love will put me back together again. Every. Single. Time.
DAMON
I’m just uncorking a bottle of champagne when Aislinn joins me on the terrace of our private villa. After our afternoon lounging in the pool, Aislinn took a nap while I went for a long run around the island. I also checked in with Finley, Burke, and even Sebastián. True to his word, he has pulled his father’s men in line. Los Muertos is operating in New York again, not quite at full strength, but close. Tensions are simmering with the Albanians though, and the Korean street gangs are encroaching on territory dominated by the Trinitarios. Although I am across the globe, Manhattan is never far from my thoughts.
“I ordered dinner while you were in the shower,” I say, motioning toward the table. Her hair is damp, a white sundress billowing around her lithe frame from the early evening breeze. “I thought we could eat out here.”
A still sleepy smile pulls at Aislinn’s mouth as she comes to my side. My arm instinctively curls around her waist, cinching her against me. She juts her chin toward the explosion of color streaking across the sky. “Did you order the sunset too? It’s spectacular.”
I press a kiss against her forehead. “You’re spectacular.”
And she is. Aislinn’s sharp edges have softened since we first met, the crackling intensity of her fire turned down a notch. She still burns though, much like the inflamed horizon. The brightness of her light remaining, not only undimmed but expanding to include an infinite range of colors. This woman embodies an entire universe of beauty. Spectacular, indeed.
With my free hand, I pour champagne into two flutes. Before I can offer one to Aislinn, she says, “I think maybe I’ll just have another daiquiri with dinner.”
I don’t bother to hide my grimace. “Not sure I’m impressed with the bartender here. I accidentally took a sip of yours earlier today and there couldn’t have been a drop of rum in it.”
The words aren’t out of my mouth before the impact of them slams into my brain. One look at Aislinn’s face is all the confirmation I need. There is joy and pride and … a hesitant uncertainty.
From the way her eyes have gone wide, scrutinizing my expression as intently as I am hers, Aislinn’s nerves come not from the unknown, or the new life she’s carrying—they are for me.
She angles her body toward mine, the heavy pink sun descending into an endless sea just over her bare shoulder, words tumbling from her glossy lips. “I only just found out. I wasn’t sure how to tell you. So much has happened, we’re just learning how to make a life together as a couple and now—”
“And now we will do exactly that, as a family.” A wave of emotion comes over me and I drop to my knees before this woman who swept into my life like a storm. Lightning and thunder, violent winds and drenching rain, but most of all, the brightest of suns. She exposed my roots, rocked my stability. All for the better.
And now, there is more change to come. More of Aislinn. More of us.
I welcome it. All of it. All of her.
All of us.
I drag my face over the still flat slope of Aislinn’s belly, breathing in the scents of honey and sunshine and the pungent sweetness intrinsic to this woman alone. “Are you okay with all this? It’s a lot, I know. I think it happened that first night I came back. I started a new prescription when I came back but there was a gap of those days that I was away. It completely slipped my mind that …”
I have a very low threshold for mistakes. But this one feels like a gift. The greatest gift, second only to Aislinn herself.
I swallow past the tightness of my throat, so overwhelmed with gratitude that I can barely push out two words. “Thank you.”
Thank you for being the light to my dark.
Thank you for being the queen to my king.
Thank you for everything.
The End
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Also by Tara Leigh
The Wages of Sin Duet
Cruel Sanctuary
Corrupt Savior
The Lies Duet
Throne of Lies
Legacy of Lies
Nothing But Trouble
Rock King
Rock Legend
Rock Rebel
Billionaire Bosses
Deal Breaker
Penthouse Player
About the Author
Tara Leigh is a multi-published author of steamy contemporary romance. A former banker on Wall Street, she graduated from Washington University and holds an MBA from Columbia Business School, but she much prefers spending her days with fictional boyfriends than analyzing financial spreadsheets. Tara currently lives in Fairfield County, Connecticut with her husband, children, and fur-baby, Pixie.
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