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“I knew it,” I roll my eyes at my sister. “Mad, I seriously am running out of room to put her shoes.”

“In this house?” she’s doubtful. “You should make her a walk-in closet out of a room you don’t use. That’s every girl’s dream.”

I chuckle. “Maybe it’s your dream.”

“It’s every girl’s dream,” she assures me. “You should do it. You’d be a super-hero to her.”

“I’m a super-hero to her already,” I tell her. “Until she turns thirteen or so.”

We visit for a while, and Maddy finally stares at me. “What’s wrong with you? You should be on Cloud Nine since you can get up and around now.”

I pause, and consider, and finally tell her my concerns about Natasha.

“I don’t have any grounds for it,” I finish up finally. “I just feel uncomfortable with her around my husband. I feel like… I don’t know.”

Maddy nods seriously. “I’ve honestly had a bad feeling about her all along,” she says and thank God for sisters who always understand. “I really have. There’s something… I can’t put my finger on it. But what woman her age wants to be the housekeeper to an old man like Pax’s grandfather? I mean, she doted on him. I wonder if there was something there?”

I shudder at that. “Surely not.” But then I think on it. “Maybe she wanted his money?”

Maddy nods. “Maybe. And who has his money now?”

I’m silent. Pax does. We do.

“Son of a bitch,” I finally mutter. Maddy nods again.

“Money brings problems with it,” she says, and I have to agree.

“But we could be wrong about her,” I muse aloud.

“We could be,” my sister agrees. “But I don’t think so. We have instincts for a reason. To use them.”

“We can’t fire her,” I tell her. “We have to keep her on staff for five years.”

“But you could move her away from you,” Maddy suggests. “Just think about it.”

“I will.”

And I will. I hate to be unfair, and I hope I’m not being unfair right now. But my life is my life, and no one will protect it but me.

At this moment, a text comes in from Pax.

I love you.

I smile and text him back. I love you, too.

16

Chapter Fifteen

Pax

I sit at my desk, and finally, I look up my doctor’s number.

I speak with the nurse.

“I’d like to schedule the surgery for my knee please.”

“When looks good for you, Mr. Tate?”

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