“I haven’t, but my partner in the business, Saxon, was Danish special forces.”
“So what do you do for them? Is it dangerous?” she questions snappily. “Are you in danger?”
“Saxon and his men have been in dangerous situations in the past. But I only ever deal with the planning of operations, not the actual missions. I have no military training, so I have nothing of value to add to a hostile situation. Sometimes I act as a pilot, but mainly I research and handle logistics and planning.”
Tension floods from her muscles, and she slumps back into the seat.
“You were worried?” I question, trying to understand her reaction.
“Of course I was worried,” she snaps.
“Saxon would be more than willing to buy my half of the business,” I tell her.
“What? Why would you sell half of a successful business? Or at least I’m assuming it’s successful, as Cody had heard of them and seemed surprised that you were one of the owners.”
“It is successful, yes. But I don’t want you to worry. You are my wife. If you want me to sell and end my involvement with Sypher Security, then I’m happy to do that,” I tell her.
Exhaling softly, she shakes her head. “You’d do it, wouldn’t you? Just because I asked you to. Just because I said I was worried.”
“Of course. You are my wife.”
“I don’t want you to sell your business. Am I going to get to meet Saxon?” she asks.
“He’s overseas on a mission at the moment, but when he returns, I’ll arrange for you to meet him.”
“Okay. Are there any other companies you own that I should know about?”
“I will provide you with information about all of our investments and business assets,” I tell her.
“They’re not ours. They’re yours,” she says.
“Everything we have is ours now. There is no me and you any longer. There’s only us.”
“There’s only us,” she repeats in a whisper. “You’re crazy. You know that, right?”
“As you seem to be concerned with my mental capacity, I’ll also provide you with my most recent mental health assessment,” I tell her, as I pull my car into the driveway of the house that has been mine for over a year.
Killing the engine, I open my door and climb out before striding around to the passenger side to help her. Once she’s standing beside me, I take her hand and lead her across the street to the house Oz and Etta share.
Etta has the door open and is running toward Octavia before we’ve taken two steps into the street.
“Octy,” Etta yells as an irate Oz races behind her.
“Woman, stop running,” he yells, catching up with her in a few steps and scooping her off the ground, swinging her into his arms as he slows to a walk and carries her over to us.
“Let me down,” she says with a laugh.
“You’ll get let down when I say you can get down,” Oz growls, ignoring his laughing, wiggling wife as he meets us in the middle of the road.
The moment he lowers Etta’s feet to the ground, she and Octavia dive for each other, hugging tightly.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Etta says.
“I can’t believe you’re pregnant,” Octavia replies.
“And married.”
“To your asshole stepbrother.”
