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She nibbles on her lip, her worry entrenched in her expression. “This isn’t something to play around with. It’ll be up to me to get you off… and what if I don’t?”
I reach across the table and scoop up her hand in mine. “Hey, it’s going to work out. They’ve got nothing, Phi… otherwise they wouldn’t be talking so much shit. It’s all mind games. I don’t want you stressing about it, alright? I’ll handle it if the time comes.”
She nods as the waitress delivers us our food. Two quarter-pound bacon cheeseburgers with all the fixings on top and a large basket of fries.
It’s a lot of food, even for two people. Right away, it’s apparent Delphine’s eyes were bigger than her stomach. She dips a French fry in ketchup so long it becomes soggy.
“Tell me about your day,” she says, half absentmindedly. “Without the specifics you can’t use in public.”
“The meeting was tense. But that was to be expected. We’ll see if the matter is resolved. If it isn’t, then I won’t be so patient.”
I refrain from mentioning what happened with the car that almost mowed me and Stitches down. It’s irrelevant since we don’t know more information about it. The situation could really be an accident… or it could be serious.
I’m more concerned about Delphine.
Something else is bothering her. Despite the fact she hasn’t said so, I already know.
I know just about everything there is to know about Phi. My beautiful wife who I’ve been obsessed with since I met her as a teenager. Even when I didn’t realize it, I was obsessed.
This woman who is more important than the air I breathe.
I squeeze her hand for her attention. “What else?”
The corners of her lips spasm. “Either I wear my emotions on my face, or you know me too well.”
“Take a guess.”
“It’s a new client of mine. I’ve taken her on when no one else would. Part of me feels like it’s why Polk came by in the first place. He seemed agitated I have.”
My eyes narrow in critical thought. “Why would he care? How does that affect him?”
“That’s the thing. It wouldn’t. It would be a civil case against Bernstein. It’s Sasha Newton.”
“The heiress? The lady whose identity you assumed?”
“The one and only.”
“She’s one of his victims? How?”
“Her grandfather gave her up. He let her be sold to the Mill.”
It’s embedded in the throatiness of her voice—the emotion she’s trying to fight off.
A year has passed since everything we’ve been through. My imprisonment at the hands of Lucius and Delphine almost being sold into sexual slavery. In that time, we’ve gotten married, focused on reconnecting in our relationship, thriving in our careers, and seeking out help for the bad things we’ve endured.
But it’d be a bold-faced lie to say it’s been easy overcoming the latter. We’ve had our good days and our bad. We’ve made progress and we’ve had backslides. Residual effects that have sprung up out of nowhere, like a nightmare or sudden trigger in a moment.
I’m paranoid as fuck. More paranoid than I’ve probably ever been. Which says a lot considering I was already paranoid when warring with Lucius.
Delphine has presented herself as well-adjusted and dedicated to her weekly therapy sessions, and though she’s shared her struggles, I know she holds back.
She doesn’t want to draw my concern. But it’s too late—I’m aware of what she’s feeling. Meaning I’ve got to fix it.
“It’s not a good idea.”
She frowns. “What isn’t?”
“Taking on this client. Call her up tomorrow and inform her you won’t be representing her.”
