In order to survive, I left New York to draw their attention elsewhere. My uncle’s threats against my life were nothing new, though now more complicated. It was worth it, though; besides, what’s one more target on my back when there were already plenty?
Her life was more important. I led them on a fruitless chase around the world before I settled into hiding at the place I called home, the only place I could finally breathe—my wilderness hideaway.
There, I forced myself to find contentment with the cameras I’d left hidden around Betty’s house. I’d check in daily and get my dose of Buttercup before going about my lonely existence, just trying to pull through. It allowed me a glimpse into her life, a small crumb to keep me going this long.
Betty spun, eyes skipping past me as I blended seamlessly with the shadows. Her midnight-brown hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. A pair of pearl earrings caught the light, winking back at me. She wore a black baseball cap on her head, hiding what I knew to be striking whiskey-colored eyes.
I also wore a cap, pulling it low on my brow. I leaned casually against a rusty metal pole, arms crossed, and waited. The overhead lights were stark but minimal. Behind me, my surveillance computers hummed quietly in a dark corner, their screens asleep.
Coming back was still a dangerous choice, but I had to see her, even if this was the last time. The mafia—my uncle—would never stop hunting me; I had to accept that. If I wanted to continue to keep her safe, this would have to be my last goodbye.
It was time to let her go.
The abandoned warehouse where we stood had been my on and off home base when I came to New York. There were very few of my safe houses left that the mafia hadn’t learned about. I’d been here a few weeks, and just today chatter handed down to me by my buddy Ethan suggested my uncle knew I was back and was close to discovering this final refuge.
I hoped to have had more time. I’d been careful when I left the warehouse to enter the city, but with technology advancing so quickly, staying hidden in New York was getting tough. Despite my best efforts, it was clear this place was done for me. Regrettably, I’d never come back.
It felt like a stab in the chest.
Betty’s hips swayed as she stopped spinning and stood, pulling my attention back to the present. Her focus landed on the only light I’d left on. It hung above the two art pieces by the artist named PERL that were propped below on simple easels. They were pricey pieces, popular items in the current art market and important enough to draw her out.
She sighed with annoyance, shoulders lax with vexation.“Are you here?” she asked the darkness.
I didn’t reply.
Having watched Betty like a hawk this past year via surveillance, throwing away pathetic suitor after suitor, I’d learned a thing or two about getting her attention. It required finesse, and a combination of rage bait and patience on my part. She enjoyed mysteries along with a bit of cat and mouse. If I made this game too easy for her, she’d grow bored with me and give it up.
I didn’t want that.
Her arms crossed over her ample chest, a perfect hourglass figure silhouetted by the long shadows of the room. The only sounds were the gentle drag of her boots across the cement floor and the shallow ebb and flow of her breathing. That silence was soon cracked wide open, the deafening sounds of the rest of her team now zipping down the line.
The world seemed to glow around her, an orbit that intoxicated its inhabitants and left one hopelessly disarmed. Her atmosphere was a fever dream of lust and desire—a sweaty, breathless memory I would remember for the rest of my life.
I was glad to have it.
I heard laughter overhead, echoing down the derelict stairwell. The stairs were long gone, leaving nothing but an empty shaft going up ten stories to the roof. Before its closure, this structure housed clothing production, which moved abroad in the eighties. It’d been abandoned for decades, only a shadow of its once-functioning structure.
I could see Betty’s brother and friend rappelling in tandem from above, slow and steady now, having taken their time in the descent. They touched down with a thud.
Her brother, Nash, fell to his knee before the slight blonde woman. I recognized her from the auction house and the surveillance cameras set up in Betty’s home. There was a glint of something shiny in his hand before I heard him speak.
“Marry me,”he said, out of breath. The proffered item was a diamond ring.
For fuck’s sake.
I wanted to huff loudly, but didn’t want to give myself away. Luckily, eye rolls were silent.
Who picksthismoment to propose? This wasmymoment.
Betty jumped up and down, cheering and hugging the small woman. I grumbled, annoyed at the echoing screech of female joy. It was time to get this over with.
I pushed off the pole, slowly clapping my hands. The booming sound cut through their excitement, as I had hoped it would. They halted their celebration, Nash reaching for a gun holstered near his chest. He didn’t draw it, though, hand resting on the handle. With a nudge of his arm, he ushered the small blonde behind him—his freshly mintedfiancée.I respected his intuitive response to protect her.
That’s how a manshouldact.
Betty, my buttercup, stepped forward without an ounce of fear, ushering her brother back much in the same way he’d moved to shield his fiancée. I watched as she reached for something in the belt around her waist. It was a taser.
I chuckled.“Buttercup, no need for that.”
