“Now it’s my turn to tell you something, Emma.”
She smiles.“I don’t want to know about what it is your company does.”
That makes me laugh.“I couldn’t tell you even if you did.”
“I also don’t want to know all the things you did as a SEAL.Some, sure, but not all.Especially not the Somalia thing.”
“Again, no worries there.”
“But Finn, everything else—what you’re thinking or feeling or what you want or don’t want out of our life together—I’m here for it.Please share that with me.”
“I will.”
She places a tender kiss on my cheek.“I’m listening.”
I take a breath.“Phyllis slapped me upside the head the other day, telling me that you are my second chance.But I think she was wrong.”
A tiny crinkle appears between Emma’s eyes.
“You’re so much more than my second chance.You’re my other half.You’re the definition of what a soulmate should be.You’ve brought me back to life, Emma.Fucking hell, I’m tired of talking.”
In one swift movement, I sweep her up in my arms and carry her inside, upstairs, and to our bed.I pull her down on top of me and then crash my lips onto hers.She responds immediately, hot and silky in my hands, and that’s when I know that she’s still my Emma, and we’re going to be just fine.
And I’m going to absolutely destroy J.R.Perkins.
CHAPTER 80
Finn
Plotting vengeance is fun.Sure, it can make some men angry and anxious, but for me, it’s energizing.Relaxing even.I enjoy the creative challenge of coming up with the best way, the most perfect way, for vengeance to go down.
My brothers feel the same.
But only when it’s warranted.
Like now.
We end up spending an enjoyable two hours locked in the secure conference room, but we’re not there on StellaR Tech business.We’re discussing J.R.Perkins.
They ask.I don’t tell them.I only say that the man is worthy of the absolute worst we can come up with, short of violence because none of us want to go to prison, though Special K thinks he can have his cake and avoid prison too.I tell them that my only requirement is that Perkins canneverfoster children again.Anything above that is gravy.
I get home from all this energizing vengeance talk to find the woman I love dealing with her troubles by scrubbing the kitchen baseboards.
“What are you doing, Emma?”She’s on her knees spraying and scrubbing in a huge pair of rubberized household cleaning gloves.
She doesn’t look up at me when she answers.“The baseboards have what looks like steak grease on them, and dirty baseboards make me nervous.”
“You’re fired.”
She stops scrubbing and freezes in place, then tips her face my way.“What did you say?”
“You’re fired.You’re not my housekeeper.”
She stands, a wet sponge in one of her gloved hands.“Did you just say what I think you said?”The sponge drips onto the kitchen floor.
“You heard me correctly.”
“You said I’m fired and that I’m no longer your housekeeper.”
