by S. Ann Cole
He gingerly touches his reddening cheek, his gaze locked on me. “I had to. I’m not sorry.”
“You’re not sorry?”
“No.” He doesn’t even blink. “If I hadn’t done that, you never would’ve completed your task, the game would’ve never been over, and I wouldn’t be sitting here right now eager to start my real life with you.”
Well, hell.
My anger deflates. I’ve got nothing to say to that. Because, it’s true. As much as I’d told myself that I would’ve left the house once I had my fill of him, the truth is, I don’t think I ever could’ve walked away from Jaxon King if he hadn’t hurt me like that.
I loved him.
Did I know it all along?
Maybe.
“One more thing,” I say.
“What?”
“Nadine.” My tone is somewhat bitter.
“What about her?”
I stab him with my eyeballs. “I don’t want you working with her anymore. I don’t trust her.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” he says simply, pressing me to him. “I submitted a request for a new field partner a while ago. It was approved last week.”
Wow. I’m stunned. “Really?”
“Timber, I choose you. I want a life with you. I’m not gonna allow anything to mess that up. Just trust me with us, all right?”
I search his eyes for anything that would confirm he’s full of shit. But I find nothing but bona fide sincerity. This man is serious about me, this. Us. I don’t know what to think. What to say.
At length, I ask, “Would it be too big a pain to be both here and there?”
At my sudden U-turn to the previous topic, he looks at me as if I’ve lost the plot. “Huh?”
“You asked me where I want to live,” I say. “Philly or here. The commute—would it be a hassle for you to go back and forth?”
“Being chauffeured around in an air-conditioned limo equipped with a TV, a mini-fridge, and an espresso maker? I doubt I’d even notice the time.”
Okay, I’m a little slow today. “I’ll have a chauffeur?”
“Of course. If you work for Dad, you’ll be assigned a car, a driver, a personal assistant, and access to the company jets.”
Whoa. Really?
He finger-combs my bangs. “But it’s whatever works for you, babe. Test it out. I’m good either way.”
“Okay… But, if you move to Philly, what happens to the Unseen?”
“We’ll choose a vice president. That person will be in charge when I’m not there.” He shrugs. “Whatever. I’m all about you now, Timber. I found my life. My future. That’s all I care about.”
What woman could resist such a heartfelt, romantic declaration?
“I like when you call me babe,” I whisper.
The jet picks up speed on the runway.
The car door is still open. Cold air rushes in.
He leans in and whispers, “I need your heat.”
And I need all of him.
Chapter Fifty-Five
A bowling ball is on my belly.
Or is it a head? It could be a head. A head seems more realistic.
Though, it could also be a bowling ball. Because my life is weird like that.
I stir, my eyes blinking open and peering down at my belly.
Not a bowling ball. A head. A very lovely head. A head I’ve not seen in four whole days. A head I’ve missed like crazy. A head I’m happy to see.
After reclaiming me on the tarmac four days ago, less than an hour after bringing me home, Jaxon had left to go on one of his classified missions. I’d just gotten him back. We’d just reconciled—and just like that he was gone.
He’d promised he would be back in two days.
Four days of no contact has been a lot harder than before. Maybe because things are different now? Because I know he’s truly mine?
Because I know he’s in love with me?
I don’t know, but it’s been really hard.
I flick a glance across the room to the Deadpool clock on the wall.
4:45 a.m.
Reaching down, I comb my fingers through his dark, silky hair.
His head moves, cants upward, and his tired eyes peer up at me. “You’re awake.”
“Mmm-hm.”
He shifts, crawls up the bed, and stretches out beside me. With a hand to my waist, he flips me so I’m facing him. His eyes are bloodshot, lazy, yet alive as they trace the lines of my face with open appreciation.
“You told me two days,” I say. “You were gone for four.”
He regards me. “How’d that make you feel?”
I missed this calm, tranquil voice of his.
“I called Markus and cussed him out,” I say. “I told him he better bring you back to me, or I was going to blow up his whole damn glass building.”
Jaxon looks mildly amused. “You did?”
“I stayed up waiting for you on night two. I’d ordered new lace lingerie. You know, because I know how much you love me in lace.”
“I do,” he agrees. “But you didn’t wait up for me tonight.” He sounds disappointed.
“I did, too. Until midnight. Then I got sad, because I realized I’d have to blow up Markus’s glass building today. So, I drank wine. Chianti. That did me in.”
He smiles, and it’s all the colors that have been missing from my life for the past four days. “I missed you, too,” he says.
“Show me,” I whisper.
He shows me. Moves in and kisses me. Softly. A gentle brush of his lips to mine.
I sigh.
He sighs.
We breathe each other in.
“Why are you two days late?” I ask against his mouth.
Closing his eyes, he brushes his lips back and forth over mine. “I wanted to get you the moon.”
“You— What?”
“King Solomon had everything—all the silver and the gold. All the wisdom. All the promises. Still, he couldn’t get the Queen of Sheba to stay with him. Couldn’t get her to give up her kingdom. And I wondered, what if he’d been able to get her the moon? The stars? What if he was able to hold the sun in his palm for her?”
God, he’s sweet sometimes.
“Okay, Sophocles.” I laugh. “Clearly, you need sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”
He shifts off of me. “You still don’t trust me to love you.”
I open my mouth… But I have no idea what to say.
Is he right?
Maybe.
He rolls to the edge of the bed and swings his legs over. He’s still fully dressed, in a black thermal shirt and black cargo pants. “I hate what they did to Raphael.”
I frown in confusion. “Who?”
“The writers,” he says. “They took Mona Lisa away from him, revamped her, and made her into a hideous space lizard with a fish tank over her head.” He gives me a look. “Don’t let Dad revamp you, Timber. Don’t let the world change you. Don’t put a fish bowl over your head. I like you as you are. I like you here with me.”
Oka-ay. I’ve no idea what kind of mission he’s been on, but it’s clearly done a number on him. “I like you, too, Jaxon. And I’m glad I’m here.”
As I watch him rub his eyes it occurs to me I’ve never actually seen him rest. He’s always working. Always gone. Whether for Markus or for Alessa, he’s always on the move.
I make a mental note to ring Markus and Alessa later on and point this out. I need their help. I need them to free up the next few weeks of Jaxon’s schedule and help me plan a getaway.
To Bora Bora.
Just the two of us.
No work, no mission, no games. Just us. Real and true as we are.
I lie there watching as he takes off his shirt, tosses it aside and heads for the bedroom door, debating whether I should follow him, make him a cup of chamomile tea, or something.
Just as I’m about to do that, he comes back, holding a medium-size gift box.
He walks over to my side of the bed.
> I sit up against the headboard as he holds out the gift box.
“This is why you’re two days late?” I ask with a laugh, taking the box.
Lowering to the bed, he nods, all serious.
I’m a little taken aback. I meant it as a joke.
With a mixture of anxiety and excitement, I remove the cover from the box and peer in. A glass and stainless steel capsule sits inside. Inside the capsule sits…
A rock.
Strangely shaped, it is gray and rusty brown, and interspersed with peridot crystals.
Curious, I lift the capsule out of the box. It’s got some weight to it.
I peer closer at it, and—
Excitement surges through my whole body.
No. Way.
“DaG 1058,” I whisper reverently.
“Yep. Dar al Gani,” he confirms. “Your very own slice of the moon.” He quickly adds, “Don’t worry, it’s not stolen. Won in an aggressive bidding war.”
My jaw drops. I can’t take my eyes off it. It’s… It’s…magnificent.
Oh. My. God.
“You went and got me the moon?” I ask in wonder.
“Tell me you trust me to love you.”
Tearing my eyes away from the rock, I look at him.
He’s watching me, waiting.
I place the capsule back inside the box and set it gingerly on the nightstand. Crawling over to him, I lock my arms around his neck and whisper. “I do. I trust you to love me, Jaxon King.”
With a soft sigh, his eyes close and his forehead meets mine. “It’s me and you, Timber.” His lips press to mine, slowly at first, and then wholly. “It’s me and you.”
We don’t talk.
We just…are. We don’t need words to express the sheer amazingness of…us. It’s not until the sun’s first golden rays starts creeping through the windows that I break the peaceful silence. “Can I ask you something?”
“Maybe.”
I roll my eyes. Always his answer. “It’s about your comics.”
“Ah,” he says, a smile in his voice. “I was wondering when you’d bring that up.”
“Well?”
He chuckles. “You want to know if it’s about you. Except it can’t be, because I never knew you when I first published them.”
“Then how do you explain the similarities to my life? To me? The resemblance. The name.”
“I can’t.” He brushes my hair off my face. “When I saw you that night at Castellos Museum, I thought God was screwing with me. I mean, you were the girl from my comics.”
I gave him a skeptical look.
“Swear to God, Timber, I drew those when I was seventeen. Actually, she came to me in a dream, and I put her on paper. So, maybe”—he walks his fingers along my spine—“it’s you who’s been stalking me.”
I feign a huff. “In your dreams.”
“Literally.”
I spill giggles all over him. “Shut up, you idiot. I never stalked you in your dreams.”
“Then how do you explain the comics?”
“You drew them!”
“You dreamed me.”
“You’re delusional.”
“You’re in love with me.” He rolls on top of me.
“I am,” I admit, gazing up into his hypnotizing blue eyes.
“You are,” he whispers, before touching his lips to mine.
Chapter Fifty-Six
I’m in Paris again. At another auction. At the same gallery where it all started. On Project MM2, ordered by my pain-in-the-butt mother-in-law, Alessa King, because Jaxon is off on a different job.
The fake Fabergé egg that Jaxon had left behind two years ago has now been replaced with a new Fabergé egg, the Mosaic egg. This one was Tsar Nicholas II’s Easter gift to his wife in 1914. After the revolution, it was purchased in 1933 by King George V as a birthday gift for his Queen Mary.
I shouldn’t be here in Paris. I should be in Philly, taking care of business there. But, unbeknownst to Markus, I’m a provisional member of the Unseen, working for both my boyfriend’s father and his mother.
Jo was booted off the team a while back, and Kavon got engaged and retired to the Caribbean. I was asked to fill in temporarily until Jaxon finds a replacement, and I reluctantly agreed.
Outside the gallery minding the getaway car is Collin. Inside, mingling and keeping a lookout, is Melanie. Standing outside the same door as two years ago, hacking the security monitor, is me.
The system has been upgraded since my last break-in, but so have I. Thanks to Markus’s labs and my newest gadgets, hacking and breaking in has never been easier. I feel invincible.
In seconds, I’m through the first door. I dodge the rotating camera and am through the second door in another minute.
Jaxon’s not behind door number two this time. It’s just me and the Mosaic egg. It’s gorgeously sophisticated. Extraordinary. Ingenious art.
Carefully opening the glass case, I lift out the egg, marveling at its beauty—the tiny diamonds, topaz, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, pearls, and garnets, artfully fitted into its intricate mesh.
I open the egg to check for the masterful medallion with portraits of Tsar Nicholas II and Tsarina Alexandra’s five children that’s supposed to be inside, and my heart skips a beat.
Crap.
It’s not there.
Is this a fake?
There’s something else inside that doesn’t belong there. A golden yolk. It’s reminiscent of the golden yolk that was inside the very first Fabergé egg—the First Hen.
Or…is this the original golden yolk?
Something’s seriously off here.
Gingerly removing the yolk, I set the Mosaic egg back in the case and delicately twist the yolk to open it. If there’s a gold hen with ruby eyes inside, I’ll know this yolk is from the First Hen…and some dimwit curator with zero knowledge of Fabergé eggs got the inner surprises of the eggs severely mixed up.
Sure enough, a gold hen with ruby eyes sits inside the yolk.
Carefully, I open the hen by its tail feathers, expecting to find a miniature royal diamond crown and a ruby egg pendant.
But…
What I find is a stunning, eye-blinding blue diamond ring with a narrow strip of paper sticking up from the band.
It says…
Marry me.
I stare uncomprehendingly at it, trying to process what the heck is going on. Then, I hear the beep of the door.
And I know.
It’s him.
Jaxon.
He arranged all of this.
He said he was on a mission for Markus, but he wasn’t. He was here, doing this.
For me.
My heart thump, thump, thump–ing in my chest, I slowly turn.
There, wearing all black, kneeling on one knee, is Jaxon.
He smiles nervously and holds out his empty palm.
I inhale a shuddering breath and say through an anxious laugh, “Classified, huh?”
I’ve never seen him so open and vulnerable. All his defenses are down. “So? Will you?” he asks softly.
I look at the ring, at his open palm, at his unguarded eyes. “I, um…”
This is so totally unexpected. I am literally speechless.
“Timber.” His eyes narrow, but it’s an attempt to conceal the panic I can see edging into them.
I clear my throat but only to keep the tears from coming. Tears of happiness. “You fool, of course, I’ll marry you.” On shaky legs, I walk over and place the ring in his open palm, and hold out my trembling left hand.
Grasping the ring, he closes his eyes and exhales a gust of relief. “Christ, I’ve never been this nervous about anything in my life.”
“You thought I’d say no?”
He makes a face and looks up at me. “Who knows with you?”
I stick my hand out and wiggle my fingers. “Shut up and give me my ring.”
Removing the Marry me note from the ring’s band, he takes my hand and presses a kiss to my
finger before sliding the ring onto it. “I love you.”
I gaze down at my finger. At the ring on my finger. I can still feel his kiss there.
Good Lord. I’m engaged.
I’m…engaged.
As my lips begin to tremble, I tell myself no crying. I’m too badarse for that. I. Do. Not. Cry. I’m tough. I’m ingenious. I’m cunning. I’m—
Bloody hell. Engaged.
To Jaxon bloody King. My first lover…and my last love.
“I’m engaged…” I whisper hoarsely.
He bites back a smile. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“This is for real, right?” I couldn’t stand it if this is just a prank. “There’s not gonna be some big twist later on?”
“I’d never play with your heart, babe. Never,” he promises sincerely, planting another kiss to my finger. “I promise to guard it and protect it with everything in me. You’re mine, your heart is mine. Always. No games.”
Badarse, classified, top-secret worker and all, the tears come. Totally ruining my tough-girl image.
“Are you cr—?”
“Shut up,” I interrupt, letting the tears fall freely. These are happy, happy tears, so I don’t care. I tug on his hand. “Get up here and kiss me. They’re watching.”
Did you love this book from Entangled’s Amara imprint? Check out more of our titles here!
Don’t miss S. Ann Cole’s next book! Sign up for our newsletter here!
Acknowledgments
To the only One in my life who truly matters, JEHOVAH. Thank you for being patient with me. I seek your face, I seek your favor daily, but I am a mere human, imperfect and weak-willed. I continuously disappoint you by allowing the flesh to win, but you continue to forgive me and love me unconditionally. I breathe because of you, I smile because of you, I live because of you. Thank you for loving me.
To Stephen J, the man with a heart made of gold. You were my rock all throughout 2016. I was down in the abyss, drowning, suffocating, and suddenly you were there. You are the most selfless, trustworthy, pure and caring person I have ever met. You will always hold a special place in my heart.
To my mom. “Prini One Dawta”. It may be long but not forever. Betta muss cum, mama. Hold on. Just wait.