“Didn’t you? When you sedated me and brought me here without my consent?”
The words hit like a slap. “That was different. You were hysterical, and I was terrified of losing you.”
“I know. And I’m trying to forgive you for it. But you have to promise me something.” She’s right in front of me now, close enough to touch. “Promise you’ll talk to me before you make decisions that affect both of us. Before you drug me or lock me up or do whatever else you think is protecting me. Promise you’ll treat me like your wife, not your prisoner.”
“I promise.” I cup her face. “I swear to you, Savannah. No more decisions without you. We’re in this together.”
“Okay.” She leans into my touch. “Then we’ll make this work.”
I kiss her. Can’t help it.
She kisses me back. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me down to her, and I lift her onto my desk, papers scattering.
This is what I’ve needed. This connection. This proof that she’s really here, really mine, really choosing this.
Her legs wrap around my waist, and I’m kissing down her neck, her hands in my hair, both of us desperate for this closeness after days of tension and distance.
Then she pulls back, breathing hard. “Wait.”
I freeze. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just…” She’s flushed, beautiful, looking at me with those brown eyes that undo me every time. “I don’t want our first time after this mess to be angry or desperate. When we do this again, I want it to mean something.”
“It always means something.”
“You know what I mean.” She slides off the desk, straightening her clothes. “I want it to be right, to be a real reconnection.”
I understand what she’s saying. And as much as my body is screaming at me to ignore her words and finish what we started, I respect her too much to push.
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll wait.”
“Thank you.” She smiles, and it’s the first real smile I’ve seen from her in days. “So what were you working on when I interrupted?”
“Contracts. Business acquisitions.” I gesture to the papers scattered on my desk. “Nothing that can’t wait.”
“What kind of acquisitions?”
“Hotels. I’m buying a small chain in Chicago.”
Her expression shifts. “Chicago?”
“Three boutique properties. Good locations, solid income, just need some capital and modernization.” I lean against the desk. “I thought maybe you’d want to come with me when I finalize the deal. See your mother’s house if you want. Say goodbye properly.”
“You’d let me do that?”
“Of course. I’m not trying to cut you off from your past, Savannah. Just keep you safe while you build a future. Also, in the meantime, you’re coming with me to Paris.”
The private jet takes off on Tuesday morning at 10:00 AM. Savannah sits across from me in leather seats, looking out the window as New York disappears below us.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Everything. How fast my life has changed. Two months ago, I was catching my boyfriend cheating. Now I’m married, pregnant, and flying to Paris on a private jet.” She looks at me. “It’s surreal.”
“Regret it?”
