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Cori crossed her arms over chest, stewing like a stubborn teenager. “You can’t tell her about the case. If anything gets leaked, my whole cover could be blown. Then all ofthis”—she waved her hand between us—“would’ve been for nothing. Mario and his affiliates will come after me. No, come afterus. And quite possibly Miranda.”
Miranda.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I slammed my hand against the steering wheel several times. I had to hold it together. Axel would blow a gasket if I screwed this up. Hopefully, Cori was none the wiser. “I won’t tell her about the case, but I’m telling her the affair is over. Good-bye, Cori.”
She got out of the car and walked to her door. From the back, she looked like a little girl. And she’d fallen in love with me.
What a blind idiot I’d been, but I couldn’t think about it anymore. I didn’t do anything wrong. My conscience was clear.
I wasn’t going to be played by the dirty FBI agent in love with me. I was done. Axel had better figure out a way to get me out of this asap.
3 Will
ON MY WAY home, it occurred to me there was no better time than the present to do what I’d wanted to do since May. And with that thought, I swung by my office.
Late in the afternoon, the quiet lobby calmed my anxious nerves. It felt like home as I walked quickly to the elevator, not making small talk with Jorge or anyone else. I was short on time and needed to beat Miranda home.
The first thing to catch my eye as I entered my office was a picture of Miranda and me on my desk. In the photo, she was staring at me with a look of wonder. So damn gorgeous. So vibrant. We’d taken the picture at Easter when our lives were uncomplicated and beautiful and full of passion.
I held the picture in my hand, smiling at my beauty. Simone had done an excellent job capturing our essence as a couple. The jovial glint in Miranda’s blue eyes made my chest tighten. I exhaled a sigh of regret. That sparkle had been missing since the end of June. Studying the photo, I recalled feeling awestruck and grateful for being the luckiest man in the world because she had chosen me.
There were dozens of times I could have proposed leading up to Easter—hell, even after. But no, I wanted it to be a surprise and in a clichéd place like Paris or Jamaica. Why in the hell hadn’t I got down on one knee and asked her to be my wife? I’d known since March that I wanted to marry Miranda and spend the rest of my life making her eyes sparkle.
I swallowed my emotion, gazing at the image. We were so happy back then.
Enough was enough. Jason and all the rest of them could go to hell, Axel too.
I went to the antique armoire in the corner of my office. Behind the door was my personal safe. I entered the pin number and inserted the key.
There it was—the Tiffany Blue Box. It beckoned to be opened. Admired. I couldn’t resist its lure. It’d been months since I last fawned over the seven-carat emerald cut diamond solitaire. Its exquisite brilliance mirrored Miranda’s eyes in the picture. Gorgeous, simply gorgeous.
I tucked the ring back into the box and bolted out of SJI with the biggest grin on my face.
Tonight was the night.
But first, I had a few more stops to make on the way home.
I swung by the liquor store for two of the best bottles of Chianti I could find. The vast selections on the shelf made my head spin. I’d never been a connoisseur of wine. I was a scotch man, whereas Miranda knew her wines quite well, and her job required her to be knowledgeable. Several labels were over a hundred dollars, but I wasn’t sure if expensive guaranteed a superb wine.
I needed to choose wisely.
“Excuse me.” I waved over a salesclerk. “Which of these would you recommend?”
The young guy looked stupefied at the bottles I held in my hands.
“Man, I have no idea. I just started working here. Google is your best bet.”
Why in the hell didn’t I think of that?
“Thanks.” I pulled out my phone and Googledtop-rated Chianti wines.It didn’t take long to find a detailed list. To my luck, one I’d grabbed off the shelf was in the top ten.
Four hundred bucks later, I was out the door. I decided to go for a third bottle so we could save one as a remembrance.
Yeah, I was feeling hopeful and romantic.
Next, I bolted into Miranda’s favorite bakery for a dozen dark chocolate ganache brownies. This stop was less stressful and faster than the liquor store. I was in and out in five minutes. By chance, I’d beaten the evening crowd. While the clerk packaged my selections, my stomach rumbled as I drooled over the macarons, so I bought a few to eat on the way to the flower shop.
With everything going on today, I hadn’t eaten since my less-than-stellar breakfast. Nothing like greasy food to start your day, but Jason had insisted, and I hadn’t had the mind to care. “To round out our Vegas experience,” he had said. The lowlife loved buffets. He also enjoyed pissing me off—the asshole. I couldn’t wait until he was out of my life for good.
