Page 92 of After the Chase

"Really. Your books sell themselves, Chase." She pauses. "Though I have to ask, why are you so opposed to public appearances? Most authors would kill for this kind of exposure."

"I'm just private," I tell her. "I prefer to let my work speak for itself."

"Well, your work speaks very loudly. Congratulations, Chase. You're officially a six-figure author."

After we hang up, I find Noah in the study, reviewing files on his laptop.

"They agreed," I tell him. "Written interviews only and no public appearances."

He closes the laptop, turning to face me before he pulls me against him, his hands sliding into my hair. "This is better. You can build your career without exposing us."

"I can’t believe they agreed."

“That’s because they know you are the best, baby,” he says, and I all but swoon at his words. How did I get so lucky?

Two Weeks Later

I'm sitting at my desk, working through my book, when I realize something. I'm happy. Genuinely, deeply happy. I have a successful career built on journalling Noah's life. I have financial security, even though Noah can afford to buy his own country, but the money is mine. I have creative fulfillment along with complete privacy.

And I have Noah, who possesses and adores me completely.

My phone buzzes with an email from my publisher. It’s the contract for the three-book deal and I spend time reading through it before I sign it electronically and send it back. Then I return to my manuscript, writing about Noah's attack of the guy who was mugging the random lady weeks ago. I never found out if he survived or not, but in my book he doesn’t, and I detail every second of that encounter.

This is my life now. Writing fiction that's actually reality. Building a career on truth disguised as imagination. Exposing our darkness to the world while everyone thinks I'm being creative.

Noah enters the study, crossing to stand behind my chair. His hands rest on my shoulders squeezing tightly.

"How's it going?" he asks.

"Good. It’s actually a lot of fun knowing that the details are the truth but everyone will think I have a warped mind.”

"Look how far you’ve come, baby."

"It’s like a fairytale, isn’t it?” I say, laughing.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

NOAH

One Week Later

I'm restless. It's 3:21am, and I'm standing at the window, watching the lights in the distance. Chase is asleep in our bed, his breathing deep and even. The house is silent except for the distant hum of traffic. I’m so fucking bored and itchy.

Los Angeles has been good for us, we’ve been able to indulge in each other and do our thing without feeling constricted or claustrophobic. But certain things in my body are bubbling to the surface.

Up until now I've been content, happy to watch Chase work and thrive, but contentment isn't fulfillment. And I'm not fulfilled and need that outlet again to make it go away.

Marcus called me yesterday as if he sensed my need.

I answered the call. "Yes."

"Noah. It's been a while." His voice is rough, familiar. "How's Los Angeles treating you?"

"Fine."

"That's good. Listen, I'm calling because we have some major issues going on here, we think we have a plant. A cop or something in our group as we have started to be investigated. Officials hanging around us like a bad fucking smell."

"What does that have to do with me?"