Boundaries be damned. I’m keeping her from being married to that asshole. And I’ll sign my name in big bold letters.
She wants us too. She didn’t know we were unafraid. Our mate tries to protect us but forgets we’re the thing that goes bump in the night.My wolf is staying present and focusing on what I’m doing, ever watching rather than hiding away while I work.
The long, tedious part is first. I stalk her cell phone’s activity for the last year and find places she frequents that are right on the edge of D’Medici territory, places I may have accidentally wandered too far into. I get lucky with a market she goes to in the neutral zone.She goes there every week, sometimes multiple times. It’s a long way from Gold Coast, but she must love something about it.
That’s where I start.
I create a whole bank account with the credit union nearby and start backdating entries. Small purchases from both of us. Deposits from my personal account to cover them. And then larger expenses. Any place within a few blocks of that market is fair game to get a fake purchase on our account. Next, I start branching out, working farther north toward up here in Barrington. Then I dip purchases from my card into D’Medici territory, dated before the truce.
Getting into the state’s system to file the marriage certificate is going to be harder. Not impossible, just harder. And... a little risky if I get caught.
No risk, no reward.
43
LETICIA
WATCHED
I don’t even lookaround me. I know the feeling of being watched is Royal through the cameras. I haven’t felt alone or unwatched since I arrived home yesterday. But now it doesn’t feel as spooky. It’s oddly comforting.
The feeling follows me through the penthouse as I fetch my bags from where the guards left them earlier this morning, then back up to my bedroom. I open the suitcases on the stands and start unpacking just to pack all over again.
It’s the silence that’s killing me. I’ve tried turning on the television, but it’s not enough noise, or rather, it’s not the right kind of noise.
I’ve changed in the couple of days I spent at the Cavanaghs. I know what it’s like to sleep next to a man, to be curled up in his arms, and I know what it’s like to have a best friend.
There’s nothing saying we can’t be friends, though, is there?
I grab my phone and agonize over the word choices.
Leticia:
Does this mean we’re not best friends anymore?
Royal:
I would love to be best friends with you.
His response bringsan immediate smile to my face and a sense of relaxation to my soul.
Leticia:
Want to call with me while I repack?
The next responseisn’t immediate. I don’t know why I expected him to answer at all, but given how fast the first response came in, it felt like the next one should follow soon after.Right?
It takes five minutes — me unzipping my suitcase and staring at the pristine folded clothes, the dirty laundry items washed, dried, and repacked — before he responds.
Royal:
I had a late night, so I might fall asleep on you. But we can call.
Leticia:
I promise to hang up if you start snoring.
I’m still gigglingwhen my phone starts to ring.
