If it wasn’t for him holding me up, I might’ve fainted, this entire thing had to have been a dream. Everything I’d ever wanted was happening, and it was surreal, my skin tingled, hairs standing on end. “What’s on the drive?” I asked.
“Names of people, agencies, money, numbers, all things you don’t need to know about,” she said. “But don’t worry, thosepeople you saved today, we’ll help them. I’ve already told you this. And I stick to my word.”
Dangling my hand over hers. “All the people, not just the ones from that van.”
“I’m not running a charity, Artemis,” she said, making a grabby hand, almost ready to jump from the table to grip me. “We will repatriate money recovered from the Blackwell trust, which is on that drive, and I need something else from the two of you.”
“What?” Donovan asked.
“Nathaniel’s family are going to become very broke now he’s dead, and their source is dried up,” she said. “They’re going to be searching for someone to blame. I believe you two might have been spotted on a camera or two, don’t worry, Finley reached it before it went live, but we can’t get all the phones from people. That building went up in flames. Swallowed.”
“I know,” I said. We’d seen the fire engines and through the wing mirrors, the plumes of smoke that started consuming the blue skies. “So, we’re just going to stay here?”
Grabby hands once more. “No, no, I want you two out of Sanctum—for a little while, not forever, but long enough for some of this to blow over.”
“You’re kicking us out?” Donovan asked, laughing. “So, what does that mean?”
“All funds will be transferred to your respective offshore banks, and my fee taken out, but I need the drive, Artemis,” she said. “You hand this to me, and you and Donovan can go experience marital bliss. Call it a honeymoon.”
She didn’t have to say all of that. I was just glad this wasn’t a punishment. The only punishments I liked came from Donovan. I’d been ready to hand the drive over—she didn’t need to up her offer at all, but three million dollars was so fucking much. Including whatever Donovan had.
I dropped the thumb drives and looked at Donovan. “Since I have a lot of money now, we might have to sign a prenup.”
Mercy laughed. “Wait until you see how much he has squirreled away.”
“Oh, so you’re a sugar Daddy?” I asked.
We stared at each other, his nose rubbing against mine. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered before Mercy interrupted again, telling us we were free to leave—and should leave quickly. Something about use of a private jet—which I tuned back in upon mention.
“The what?”
“Oh god,” she said. “Donovan, maybe he needs more training.”
He swooped me up into his arms, cradling me. “Say less,” he said. “We’ll be out of your hair in just a minute.”
People watched as he carried me out of the office. I didn’t mind, I was actually beginning to enjoy the attention. I wondered if I’d have had more eyes on me if the thread to walk me like a dog had happened. Now, instead, he was carrying me like a baby.
“Where are we going?” I asked him as we were alone in the elevator.
“We’re going to get that picket fence dream,” he said. “And I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
I giggled. “Is it, have you shaved?” I asked. “Or is it when was the last time you touched yourself?” I teased with the same questions he’d asked me when I was in training. I felt like training hadn’t stopped, but now, at least we’d overcome a lot of the pain that separation had brought to us. Like magnets, hitting together, causing friction, only to settle in place and never be pulled apart again.
He carried me into his room, practically kicking his door in—it wasn’t locked and opened with complete ease. “No,” he said, gently placing me on the bed. I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to continue being his baby koala, clinging to his body. “If you really want to know, I can ask you it now.”
I knew the question, I knew the answer. My eyes were already watering as I watched him leave the end of the bed. He walked right over to his dresser, his eyes still on me, looking at me as he went into his dresser. I’d searched around in his drawers before, I’d taken his underwear as mine—I liked to feel close to him, and he wanted me in his clothes.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “And no peeking.”
As I screwed my eyes, tears came down. I didn’t know if this was going the way it was supposed to. This wasn’t how I’d planned it, but it was definitely how I wanted it. Especially with the elation that I had millions in my bank now—fuck, we were going to get our picket fence dream.
“Are they closed?” he asked, his voice getting closer.
Gulping hard on the nervous rock in my throat. “Yes, they’re closed.”
He grabbed me by the knee and tugged on me, pulling me across the edge of the bed until my legs were over it. In some of my dreams, I’d been in a restaurant, we’d ordered an expensive bottle of wine, there was definitely some boujie food on the table—maybe even one of those desserts with the candles that sparkle and keep fizzling.
“Artemis,” he whispered, his mouth to my ear. He kissed the side of my cheek. “Artemis Grey,” he said. “Open your eyes.”
