Not that I don’t believe Cian would do all he could. Or wouldn’t do everything to protect her. It’s his nature. Not that I wouldn’t trust Fitz in my absence. He was an Army Ranger after all. And not, of course, that I couldn’t send her to Ayla’s where Christian has the place locked up against any potential infiltration. Hell, the man has a safe room.
But it needs to be me. So long as I’m able.
On my way to pick up Lorien, I make a pit stop at Nettles and Cohen. Sherman looks at me with curiosity when he opens the manilla envelope to find print outs of almost everything on the accompanying thumb drive that falls to the bottom with a thud. I explain the connection to the suits he’s currently defending us on and Mark Gascon, as well as the connection with his uncle.
His eyebrows reach for his receding hairline when he sees a copy of the marriage certificate and the prenup. “I personally dropped off and watched acceptance of the original on my way here. It’s filed.”
“And the date?”
“Is in May.” My tone brooks no argument.
The man, who’s sharper than people give him credit for, nods. A small smile plays on his lips. “Well then, congratulations are in order. Please do give Mrs. Murphy my best. And when will I get to meet your bride?”
My bride.Why does that hit me in the solar plexus?
“Soon.” I extend a hand, shaking with the only person without my last name I’d trust in this situation.
Well, not the only one, I think as I rub my chest and see myself out.
30
compatibilities
Lorien
“Where do you want to start?” Liam asks, turning left out of the office parking lot.
“What are we talking about?”
“Car shopping. Or would you rather head home?”
The dreaded car shopping is option A. Being trapped in what was my sanctuary with the man who didn’t blink at his tee or my sexiest nighty is option B. So, hell or hades. Yay me.
“I don’t have a starting point.”
He turns left again and heads east. I never understood people who would give directions according to a compass until I moved to Denver. It makes total sense. I’d love to see Liam try to navigate St. Louis. I don’t think a single road goes in a cardinal direction there. On second thought, I don’t need to picture him outside of Colorado. He’ll be real enough here. I don’t need thoughts of him beyond this place when this is all over.
I don’t know how long I spin in my own thoughts, because we’re squarely in Denver when he pulls up at a car dealership.
Viewing the Audi sign, I remind him, “My budget is the non-mortgage note kind, remember?”
“We’re not buying. We’re driving. And Audi makes some of the best all-wheel-drive vehicles out there.”
“What if I don’t like it?” I ask as he exits the vehicle.
The door slamming in my face jars me. But before I can get angry, he’s at my side, opening mine.
“Then don’t buy one.” His answer is casual. “Consider it like dating. You get to take it for a ride before”—he lifts my ring towards the sunlight—“committing.”
“I bet you took a lot of them for a ride.” The comment is dry and for my ears only. Or so I thought.
He turns his massive body to me, standing closer than I’m used to, and tips my chin up. “I wasn’t married.” He holds his ring up between us. “And everyone knew the score. I won’t apologize for them. Do you want to talk about Troy Smith?”
Everything in me goes cold. “How do you know about him?”
His voice drops to a steely whisper. “I know more than you do about that man and about your relationship with him.”
“That’s not possible.” But even I’ve lost the conviction in my own words.
