“Yes,” she responds. “She still has to wrap some gifts.”
“And Tina?” I ask.
“Believe it or not,” she begins, “Tina has a date tonight. With Vincent Fletcher.”
“You’re kidding,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“He called her when we were driving home.”
“He’s not wasting any time,” I say, letting out a breath.
“According to Tina, he’s quite charming.”
“I’m sure he is,” I say. “He’s also used to getting what he wants.”
“Speak from experience?” she asks, eyeing me intensely.
I let out a dry breath and lean back. “The first time I met Vincent Fletcher, I was twenty-three. Just a rookie cop in a small-town department, still trying to figure out how to wear the badge without feeling like an imposter. He wasn’t just a businessman—he was an empire in a suit.”
Elle watches me closely, not saying a word.
“The moment he shook my hand, I felt it—that weight. Like he’d already measured me, and whatever I brought to the table wasn’t enough. His grip was firm. Cold and calculating. Like a silent warning.”
“Let me guess,” Elle says, “he didn't like you?”
“Not much,” I say with a smirk. “Meghan and I met him for dinner. This was early on in our relationship. As soon as we sat, she excused herself to go to the ladies room and left me alone with him. The second she was out of earshot, he turned to me and said, ‘You’re a cop, huh? Must be tough, working those long shifts, dealing with the dirt of society, and still pretending like you’ve got a future.’”
Elle’s eyebrows lift. “Wow.”
“Yeah. I held my ground. Told him I was doing just fine. But he smiled like he knew better. Like he always knew better. He said, ‘If you want to build something that lasts, I can offer you a way out.’ Then he dangled a job in one of his firms. Said I was smart. Said he could find a place for me.”
“That wasn’t an offer,” she says. “It was a test.”
I nod. “A test I failed, apparently. I told him I was good where I was. And he gave me this look. Like I’d confirmed everything he already believed about me. Buthe never stopped trying. At the wedding, at the hospital after Hannah was born—same offer, just dressed up to fit the moment. 'You've got a daughter now,' he said. 'That’s a game changer. Come work for me. Your family will have everything they need.’”
“And you still said no.”
“Every time,” I say. “Because what he was offering… it wasn’t stability. It was control. His version of a future, not mine. He never understood that I didn’t want his money or his approval. I just wanted to build something that was mine. On my terms.”
Elle leans into me, her voice soft. “You did.”
I glance down at her. “And now,” I say quietly, “he’s about to walk into a showroom full of it.”
"What do you mean?" she asks.
I take a deep breath. “I just got a commission for a high-rise, a big one. We’re furnishing it from top to bottom.” I pause, watching her face for a moment. “The client’s Vincent.”
Her brows furrow slightly, a flash of concern crossing her face. “You’re going to be working for him?”
“It’s a big opportunity,” I say. “He's the client, but for all intents and purposes, he's commissioned Brewer & Co. to furnish his building, not Jackson & Co. Woodworks. He has no idea I'm involved, and really, he never has to know.”
"What about Tina?" she says. "If she starts seeing him, it could complicate things."
"I'm not hiding it from him," I assure her. "I'm just not going to advertise it. If, at some point, he finds out, then so be it."
Elle sinks back into my arms, trusting and relaxed. A few seconds tick by in silence before she looks up at me. She smiles and gently sweeps her lips across mine. I tilt her chin up and return the kiss—but this time, it’s a slow, lazy, all-consuming kiss. She responds by wrapping her arms around my neck and pulls me in to deepen the kiss.
I trace my thumb down to her neck, where I begin a slow, gentle massage. She draws lazy circles on the back of my neck, sending a thrilling sensation through me. I plant soft kisses along her neck, then nip her ear with my teeth. She giggles softly and meets my gaze.
