"Dangerous combination." He guides me toward a quieter corner, away from the music and crowd. His hand at the small of my back is warm, grounding. "What about?"
"About how close we came. About what happens next. About whether I'm really cut out for this partnership thing when my instinct is always to act alone."
Fitz has been coordinating with Sawyer, with Adeyemi, with intelligence contacts all week. Making plans, implementing security. And every time, he includes me. Asks my opinion. Treats me like an equal partner.
It should feel natural. Instead, it feels foreign. Years of working alone didn't disappear just because I said "I’ll try to change how I operate."
"No, but you’re getting the hang of it, lass, and you have the rest of our lives to learn."
"The rest of our lives," I repeat. "You really think we'll make it that long?"
Given my track record, it seems optimistic. I've been shot, stabbed, beaten, nearly blown up. And that was before someone organized a multi-million dollar operation specifically to kill me.
"I know we will. Because neither of us knows how to quit." He kisses me softly, careful not to smudge my lipstick. "And because I have a vested interest in keeping you alive so I can continue spanking that gorgeous ass of yours."
I laugh despite myself, the tension breaking. "Such a romantic."
"Always."
Across the room, I spot Chelsea working the crowd with practiced ease. She catches my eye and grins, raising her glass in salute. The club has thrived in my absence—which is both reassuring and slightly humbling. Turns out Baker Street doesn't actually need me here every night.
Turns out I'm not indispensable. The realization should sting. Instead, it's almost a relief.
Malcolm and Lily approach, both glowing with happiness. Lily is wearing Malcolm's collar—a beautiful piece of crafted leather with silver accents. The sight makes my heart squeeze. I remember when she first came to Baker Street, broken and terrified. Now she trains submissives and is happily married to Malcolm.
Lily hugs me. "Thank you. For everything. For Baker Street, for giving me a safe place, for introducing me to Malcolm."
"You did the hard work yourself," I tell her. "I just provided the space."
But watching them walk away, Malcolm's arm around Lily's waist, I feel something settle in my chest. Worth it. All of it. Every risk, every close call—worth it so women like Lily can fall and get the happily ever afters they deserve.
Fitz pulls me against his side, following my gaze. "We could have been more like them if we'd had a normal wedding without people trying to kill us."
"Our wedding was memorable."
"It was traumatic."
"That too." I turn to face him, studying the sharp angles of his face, the grey eyes that see too much. "But I wouldn't change it. Because it taught me something important."
"What's that?"
"That life is short and unpredictable. That danger can come from anywhere. But also that I have someone who will fight through hell to keep me safe. Someone who accepts me exactly as I am—reckless, stubborn, and occasionally stupid."
"Frequently stupid," he corrects, but there's no heat in it. Just affection and exasperation in equal measure.
"Frequently stupid," I concede. "But you love me anyway."
"I do." He kisses me, deep and claiming, uncaring that we're in full view of the club. His hand tangles in my hair, the other gripping my hip. "I love you more than anything, Jordan James-Fitzwallace. Even when you drive me absolutely insane."
Around us, the party continues. But for a moment, it's just us. The kiss, the connection, the certainty that whatever comes next, we'll face it together.
The countdown to midnight begins. Club members and guests are cheering, embracing, celebrating. The energy in the room builds to something almost physical.
"Ten!" the crowd chants. "Nine! Eight!"
"Ready for a new year?" Fitz asks.
"Seven! Six! Five!"
