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“But most of all, I hate you. Goodbye.”
I grabbed his neck with my hands and snapped his back through my gloves, then threw his body onto the mattress and watched his surprised face and open eyes staring back at me. Since Graham requested this look like a suicide, so not to poke the Italian bear, Carter and I spent the next hour cleaning the pieces of the phone that exploded in Stefano’s hand, then throwing his fully clothed body from the rooftop of his building—not before shoving pills and alcohol down his throat.
When I walked back to our car, I felt so much lighter. So much happier. Jade was safe again. Jade got her justice. And I got mine.
Perfect.
Everything. Was. Perfect.
I loved that she wore a red velvet dress to our date.
Our first ever date.
Six months together.
183 days.
298 fucks.
157 blow jobs.
1 date.
1 ring.
But that was all that mattered. I may have not been the man she’d wanted me to be. A doctor or an accountant or a boring rich fuck who could pluck her out of New York and into the arms of welcoming, fake suburbia, nursing her soul back into health while she picked up a boring-ass course in a bad community college, but I cared. I cared enough to fight for her. To save her. To kill for her. To live for her. These feelings, they didn’t come to me naturally. Yet, they came to Jade naturally all the time. The way she cared so deeply about Dahl and the girls, putting them first and herself second. The way she cared about me when I was injured.
This was the woman I wanted to be the mother of my children, if I ever had any.
This was…Jade.
We walked into the glitzy restaurant on the Upper East Side—Blue Moon was its name. I put my hand on the small of her back and felt her shivering against me in pleasure. The night was cold. Winter was at its height. And Jade was going to walk out of this restaurant a new woman, at least in a sense.
“Reservations?” the girl at the front asked us with boredom until her eyes traveled up and she saw me. A sly smile graced her face, and I wiped it quickly by kissing my girlfriend’s temple.
“Savage. Cole Savage,” I said, straight-faced.
That was my last name.
That was my trade.
I was a savage, and hell, I was proud of it.
“Please follow me.” She turned around, and we waltzed in. Jade grinned, her whole face lighting up, and I swallowed hard and looked around me. It was one thing to fight in front of hundreds of people. It was a whole different story to ask her to marry me in front of these old idiots.
What if she said no?
But then she couldn’t have said no.
After Stefano died—I mean, committed suicide—she got back to work at Hot N’ Bothered. This time, not as a waitress and not as my fake PA. She worked behind the bar with Quinn. And she loved it. She was sassy to the customers, got great tips, fucked up all their orders, and still had a ton of fun.
She liked her new life.
I think she did anyway.
I couldn’t know for sure. Fuck.
“Enjoy your evening.” The hostess flashed us a fake smile that didn’t reach her eyes. We sat down. A waitress came and gave us our menus. She returned after a minute with a bottle of champagne as per my request.
