I am Charlotte Delaney, pillar of the fucking community, and I stand with this man wrapping his free arm around my waist and holding on like I’m the only solid thing left.
The flashes keep coming—so do the shouted questions—but I don’t care. I kiss him until I’m damned good and ready to stop.
Then, I pull back just an inch, resting my forehead against his as I whisper, “Welcome home. That was perfect.”
He exhales. “Thanks.”
“Now, let’s get you a coffee.”
“And a shower,” he whispers with a soft laugh. “I came straight from the gym. I probably smell like a ripe animal.”
“But you’remyripe animal,” I tease as I take his hand, holding tight as I lead him inside.
The moment we’re behind closed doors, the energy shifts as we both relax into real reunion mode.
Nix leans back against the heavy wood of the door, dropping his bag with a rush of breath. “Shit. What a fucking morning.”
“I know,” I say, brow furrowing with concern as I cup his tired face. “We heard about the suspension. The news broke while you were in the air. I’m so sorry.”
He winces, but before he can reply, Beatrice shouts from behind us, “Bay, you’re back!”
She comes running into the foyer from the kitchen. She changed into black jeans and a vintage band T-shirt earlier, but her hair is in a messy knot and her face is pale and make-up free.
As she slams into him for a hug, I’m struck again by how young she looks. How small and vulnerable, the kind of target only a complete shithead would use as a punching bag.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, her face pressed to Baylor’s chest. “I can’t believe you got suspended. This is all so insane and awful, but I’m going to fix it, I promise. I won’t be the one who ruins your life. I fucking refuse to let that happen.”
Nix pulls back, capturing her shoulders gently as he leans down, bringing his face closer to hers. “Stop it. You didn’t ruin anything. This isn’t on you, Bea. This is all Kai. He’s the only one I blame for anything.”
“But if I’d never?—”
“Nope. No litigating the past. Not on my watch. We need to keep our focus fixed on the future.” Looping an arm around Bea’s shoulders, he starts toward the kitchen. “But first, recon. You guys obviously know about the suspension, but the good news is that management is looking into that recording. Keely, at least, doesn’t think it’s real. She’s going to fight for me, no doubt in my mind.”
We gather around the island, where I’ve already set out a pitcher of tea, glasses, fruit salad, and sandwiches, wanting to make it easy for Bea to keep her strength up in between strategy sessions.
“But I want to hire my own investigator, too,” Nix continues. “I found a couple firms that specialize in verifying if something is authentic or AI generated while I was on the plane. I figured I’d reach out to them and?—”
“Already done,” I cut in. “I sent the links to VeriSynth Analytics this morning. I paid the rush fee and they moved it to the top of their list.”
Nix looks at me like I just pulled a rabbit out of a hat…while wearing sexy lingerie.
“Damn, woman,” he mutters. “How do you keep just getting hotter?”
I grin and shrug. “I think you just have a thing for competence. And teamwork.”
“And you,” he says, his gaze tracking down my frame and back up again, making me tingle despite the shitshow of a day we’re all having. “How did I not notice this outfit before, either? Fuck… You look like a million bucks. Which reminds me, I’m paying you back for that rush fee. Obviously.”
“It wasn’t that much actually.” I wrinkle my nose as I add, “But there is some bad news. Apparently, the deepfake quality on this thing is crazy good. They got back to me a little while ago saying they’ll need to run a spectral analysis. That takes extra time, so we’ll be waiting three to five business days for that preliminary report.”
“Three to five days?” Beatrice groans. “That means we might not have proof that it’s a lie until next week. The news cycle will?—”
“Sorry, I wasn’t done with the bad part yet,” I cut in, hating that I have to pile more suck onto the already overflowing Pile of Suck, but… “If the initial results are inconclusive, they’ll transfer the case to a senior analyst in London. Which could take another seven to ten days.”
“Well, shit,” Beatrice whispers.
The silence that falls afterward is heavy.
Three days of hiding out while false, potentially life-ruining stories spread like a bad case of cooties is one thing.
