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Epilogue Torian
One week later
She’s not coming.
I knew she wouldn’t.
That’s why I’m sitting in my car out the front of her apartment building one minute before we’re meant to meet.
I need to give her the opportunity to humiliate me. I get it. It’s payback.
I did the same to her when I demanded she drop the sheet after we slept together. Then again after she killed my father.
I hurt her. And I sure as shit can man up enough to let her even the score—at least temporarily—because it’s not like this thing between us is over.
While I’d been stuck in Greece, I hadn’t been able to predict how she would react to my return. I’d wondered if she’d be angry. Would those handcuffs of hers be ready and waiting for a long-overdue arrest?
I’d thought about her every damn minute of every damn day. She’d clouded my vision while I’d spent weeks dismantling the intricate details of my father’s operation. I’d even contemplated her placing me in the rearview and moving on with her life.
Then news got back to me about the visits from her agent friend, and the spiral of jealous rage I’d descended into made me work around the clock to get back to Portland earlier than predicted.
I’d needed to see her for myself. I couldn’t keep questioning what she was thinking.
But that first glance on the trail in the woods had answered all the unknowns.
She’d caught sight of me and reacted with relief.
I’d seen her hope. Witnessed the brief glimpse of excitement.
Despite our differences, and the hell I’d dragged her through, it was clear she still wanted me.
She’d tried to hide the spark with tough words and tougher mental shields, but I’d seen the truth. I’d also felt her tremble under my touch, the same way she did on the island.
Nothing between us had changed.
“You said eight, right?” The young florist delivery woman leans against the window ledge of my Porsche and smiles down at me. “Are you ready for me to deliver the arrangement yet?”
“Give her one more minute.”
As much as I previously enjoyed the predatory parts of my time with Niss, I’d prefer to set that aside and delve into new territory.
“Oh, gosh.” The woman steps back and pats her pockets. “I forgot to write on the card. You said there was a message, right? What do you want me to put on it?”
She pulls an envelope from her jeans pocket, then continues to rummage until she finds a pen.
“Just wait a little while longer,” I mutter.
If Anissa decides to meet me, the flowers will become redundant, which means the card isn’t necessary. I just need to wait.
I know she’ll show.
“No problem.” The woman nods. “What made you decide to send an arrangement of poppies? Is the woman a veteran?”
I grin. “No. It’s more of an inside story. One of those things that only has meaning to the people involved.”
Her eyes light up. “I love those stories. It makes the gift so romantic. I live for that stuff. Would it be incredibly rude if I asked for details? How did poppies become the flower to symbolize your relationship?”
I bite back a laugh. The woman is in her early twenties and clearly spellbound by whimsical thoughts of romance. I’m sure she’s expecting a tale filled with candlelit di
I shrug. “It’s simple, really. She’s an FBI agent. I’m a notorious drug lord. The poppies are more of a taunt than anything. Alluring but deadly. Simplistic, yet the source of a multi-billion-dollar industry. The deep red color is also important because the temperamental times we’ve navigated together have been bathed in bloodshed.”
She blinks at me, her face growing slack.
“We’re a match made in heaven, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” The envelope and pen tremble in her grip. “Of course.”
“Don’t look so scared, sunshine. I’m only messing with you.”
“Oh.” She straightens and gives me a bashful smile. “For a minute, I thought you were serious. How crazy is that?”
“It’s definitely crazy.” I turn my attention back to the doors of the apartment building. “I just want to wait a few more seconds.”
Thirty, to be exact.
I start the mental countdown, the tick of the metaphorical clock increasing my pulse.
Twenty-eight… Twenty-seven… Twenty-six…
Any moment now, my little fox is going to walk out those doors.
She’s had her fun. She’s inflicted her retaliation.
Now it’s time to move forward.
Nineteen… Eighteen… Seventeen…
I can’t wait to see her.
The last week has been torture. Watching her through the added security measures Decker put in place wasn’t enough. I need to touch her. To fuck her. To hear her needy gasps against my ear.
Nine… Eight… Seven…
The doors swing wide and familiarity walks out.
Unwanted fucking familiarity.
An asshole in stone-washed jeans and a knitted goddamn sweater strides outside, not a care in the world as he increases my pulse, infusing my veins with a volatile dose of jealousy.
I shove the car door open, making the delivery woman scamper out of the way, and stalk toward the conceited prick. “Agent Easton, what brings you to the neighborhood?”
He pauses, his judgmental gaze trekking from my head to my toes. “I could ask you the same question.”
I smile, hiding the venom surging to break free. “It’s a beautiful day. I wanted to soak up the sunshine.”
“What a coincidence. I’m about to do the same thing. I just had to check on my girl first. You know, priorities and all that.”
His girl?
His fucking girl?
“You’ve got yourself a woman?” I want to kill him. Right here. In front of i
“How’d you know?” He smirks.
Fucking smirks.
My face heats, the need to act building like a furnace.
“Between you and me,” he mock whispers, “she’s been going through a tough time lately, and I’m enjoying spending every spare minute comforting her.”
He’s baiting me. And I’m devouring every morsel, even though it acts as poison.
“What a gentleman.” I incline my head in approval. “I hope this tough time of hers isn’t too serious.”
“You know, Mr. Torian, it’s a fu
It’s also clear he is, too.
If he’s only aware of the damage on her limbs, this smug fucker hasn’t had the pleasure of sleeping with her. No way in hell would the injury to her ribs have skipped his attention.
He might want to believe she’s his girl, but that woman is most definitely still mine.
“I’m going to find out what happened to her, Mr. Torian.” He steps forward, his sense of superiority all up in my face. “I’m going to break down those walls of hers until she tells me her juicy secrets. Then I’m going to go after the person responsible and tear him to pieces.”
I raise my brows, impressed by his enthusiasm. “It sounds like you’ve got a tough task ahead of you.”
“Not at all. It’s only a matter of time.” He leans closer, as if preparing to tell a secret. “Do you want to know the best part?”