29
Maggie
Setting my makeup brush on the counter, I stare at myself in the mirror, taking a moment to study the woman I’ve become and reflect on the journey that got me here. I look basically the same as I did two years ago, when I was still stuck in a life that was filled with terror, anxiety, and anger. But I can tell my time away from the chaos that was my life for many years has softened the hard edges, erased some of the tension that used to line my features.
I haven’t seen Reese in a very long time. I don’t know how I’ll feel seeing him again. He terrorized me and caused irreparable harm to so many people and families, including my own. But there is a small part of me that is grateful for what I went through because his actions led me to something that’s turning out to be beautiful and healing. Although I will never be thankful to him for what he did,the current state of my life helps ease the heavy burden of regret and anger toward him and myself.
A soft knock at the door draws me back to the day ahead of me.
“Maggie? You almost ready?” Ian’s deep voice fills my soul as he opens the bathroom door.
He looks exceptionally sexy today. There’s something about an excessively muscular man fitting perfectly into a tailored suit that appeals to me on a visceral level. As if the suit is doing the work to conceal and control the power and strength that lie underneath.
“Do you have to get suits custom-made?” I ask, noting how every seam appears to be made to fit him.
He stares at me in the mirror with a look of amusement and a hint of the desire that’s always present between us.
“Not custom-made, but I do get them tailored. If I don’t, they either look sloppy or are horribly uncomfortable.”
I smile. “Makes perfect sense. You look good.”
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me back to his chest, kissing the side of my neck. Goosebumps spread all the way down my back from where his lips touch my skin.
“You look even better, beautiful.”
I’m dressed in a simple, conservative long-sleeve black dress. It may be basic, but it does accentuate my figure.
Perfect for a murder trial.
My smile falls, and my shoulders deflate.
Ian notices the change and turns me to face him. He cups my cheek, and his warm, rough palm has me tilting into his hand to get more contact. “Maggie, I’m at a loss right now as to how to help you. If I’m being completely honest, my instinct is much more violent than society allows, so I’m trying to tame that side of me, andwhenever you look like that, it gets harder and harder to do that.”
I reach up and pull his lips to mine. Even though I started the kiss, Ian is quick to take over. He kisses me like this is our first and our last.
Breaking the kiss, I look up at him. “I have no idea how you got it cleared so you could not only come here with me but also be by my side even in the courthouse, and I don’t know how I can ever express how much that means to me.” I fight the tsunami of emotion that overtakes me, but Ian misses nothing about me these days.
He gently pats his thumbs under my eyes in case any tears fall. “No crying, baby.” His eyes roam my face, and his lips tip up. “You can show metonighthow much you appreciate it. With that ass.”
Rolling my eyes, I laugh and jump away as he swats said ass. I needed that. I needed something to pull me back from sinking too low. Today will be hard, but remembering the good things I have in my life right now will help keep me from slipping even further. And right now, Ian is that for me.
We walk back into the room, and I pick up my phone. They should be here any minute to pick us up. Blowing out a slow breath, my eyes squeeze shut as a knock sounds at the door.
“You ready, beautiful?”
I pivot and paint on my brightest and fakest smile. “Yeah, let’s get this over with so we can move on with our lives.”
“Fuck yeah.” Ian holds out his hand for me to take.
When he opens the door, Jenson’s glaring face greets us, along with Franklin’s friendlier one.
Franklin steps forward and holds out his hand for Ian to shake. “Ian Murray. Simpson told me about you. It’s good to meet you. Name is Paul Franklin.”
Ian takes his hand. “Good to meet you.”
Last night, after we arrived at the hotel, I told Ian about Franklin and how differently he treats me compared to Jenson. Ian said he was glad at least one of the agents wasn’t a “fucking incompetent idiot.”
The walk to the waiting vehicles is silent besides a few murmured words between Jenson and Franklin. The whole way, I cling to Ian’s arm, telling myself that as long as I’m touching him, everything will be okay. I can borrow some of his strength and get through this.
