I stand firm, my jaw tightening. “Not until I talk to Rosie. I’m in love with your daughter. Hell, I think I was in love with her before I even met her.”Back when I thought she was just Rose the stripper.
I lean forward, my voice steady, unwavering. “And there’s no way in hell I’m letting her leave for the West Coast without telling her that—again. Because I already have. I’ve told her I love her. And while she hasn’t said it back just yet, I know that she loves me too.”
Her father’s face twists, his jaw tightening as if the words physically hurt him. “The… you’re… what?” he sputters, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it. It looks like he’s oscillating between confusion and anger, but I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.
I press on. “Thank you—for setting me up with her. Because honestly? I’m not sure she would’ve given me the time of day if you hadn’t. She’s incredible, sir. Smart, hardworking, kind, and gentle. She’s completely out of my league. But you know that already, which is why you’re so surprised by this. You helped raise an amazing woman. And those parts of her, the ones she doesn’t show to just anyone? I love them all. I want to date her properly. And someday, I want to marry her properly too. Vows and everything.” I tap my knuckles against the surface of the office table. “I hope you'll be there when we say I do.”
Maxwell's face reddens further, and he points an accusing finger at me, his voice rising. “You’re out of your damn mindif you think she feels the same way. She already signed the paperwork!”
Cain, who’s been quietly observing from his spot at the table, finally speaks up, shaking his head. “Sorry, Dad, she didn’t. She took the paperwork with her on her flight, but she never dropped it off.”
The fight drains from her father’s expression as he drops back into the chair. His hands go to his temples to rub, and he places his elbows onto the table before looking over at his son.
“She didn’t sign it yet?”
Cain shakes his head no.
For a moment, I almost feel bad for him. Almost. Because I get it—losing a daughter like Rosie would be hard as hell. But he’s not losing her. If anything, he’s gaining a son-in-law who would die before letting anything or anyone hurt her.
"I'll protect and cherish her until my last breath."
"I… I don't understand," he says shaking his head firmly.
“Somewhere between the fake appearances we fell in love,” I say, softening my tone. “It was easy to do once she opened to me. I only respected her wishes by playing along.”
“You love her,” he repeats it again, less as a question and more as a statement this time.
I nod. “I do. Now I’m going to play this game tonight, and then I’m getting on the first flight to Los Angeles to see her. I’ll tell her everything I just told you and more. And I promise you, sir, with everything I have, that I’ll protect Rosie and love her the way she deserves. Her love is the most precious thing in my life. She’s more important than anyone or anything in this world.”
I stand, sliding the blank paperwork off the table and folding it neatly before tucking it into my pocket. My heart pounds, but not from nerves anymore, from determination.
Because this?
This isit.
I’m ready to leave everything on the ice tonight and then leave everything I am with Rosie. I head for the door, feeling more alive than I have all weekend, a fire burning in my chest that tells me nothing can stop me.
Maxwell's voice stops me in my tracks before I can make it through the doorway.
"Tremblay,” he clears his throat. “If you really mean what you said, and my daughter is in love with you too, you better not fuck this up. And if she tells you to piss off, I expect you to do exactly that. Got it?"
My lips twitch slightly into a smile as I nod my head. "Got it, sir."
Game first. Next get my girl.
Chapter 41: Rosie
The flight out to Los Angeles feels unbearable; so much longer than the dozens of times my father has sent me west for meetings or to secure a new client that we were trying to poach from a competitor.
Maybe it’s because, this time, I don’t want to leave New York. I’m not excited about the case I’m working or the opportunity.
It feels like I’ve left something behind. A piece of my tangled heart was spilled on the streets of New York City like blood. A part of me that helped unearth the authentic Rosie Prescott that I’ve spent years searching for.
I looked for her in dark clubs where I danced for strangers wearing next to nothing.
I searched for her in courtrooms where I performed like a star, defending cases and women that I believed needed justice.
And I hunted her in Connecticut, where I impulsively bought a house, hoping to stumble upon some substance that felt like “home” and instead found family.
