“I think this might actually be what heaven is like,” Violet says with a contented sigh as she reaches for the bag.
I’ve discovered in preparation for this trip that my love has a quirk —she must catalogue everything in a bag, must pack and then repack, putting her hands on absolutely every single item in the process.
That made smuggling a diamond solitaire down here quite the creative exercise. I’d nearly had a heart attack when she texted me the day before we left and asked how many t-shirts I was supposed to have packed.
I’d responded that I wasn’t sure, and she’d replied that she’d just count when she got home to be sure I had enough.
I shot to the house at the next available break in between patients and rescued the ring box from my suitcase.
Now I’m prepared for what’s about to happen. She pulls everything out, picks the book she wants, plus a bottle of sunscreen, then carefully returns everything else to the bag.
She stops on the second last item and holds it up, giving me a funny look. “Dental floss?”
“Just in case.”
She goes to put it back in the bag and stops. “It rattles.”
“Weird.”
She shrugs and stretches out with her book.
I smile and stretch out beside her.
Life is good.
After a while, I get up and wade out into the surf. When I get deep enough, the waves crash up against my chest, and I dive into them. As I find my footing and stand again, turning around, I see her following me in.
That black bikini brings me to my knees.
She brings to my knees. Although today the plan is just one knee.
I meet her in the middle of the crashing waves and we swim back out together, then take our time getting pushed back to shore. We collapse on the loungers again.
“Storm’s coming,” she says lazily, pointing to the horizon.
“We should head back in.”
“Mmm.” She reaches for her book. “One more chapter.”
We’re fifteen feet from our verandah. I close my eyes and wait for the storm to get closer.
Violet snuggles closer, rolling from her cushion onto mine, and I wrap my arm around her.
“Read to me,” I murmur, and she does, her careful, precise, beautiful voice telling me a story about a medical examiner and a forensic anthropologist who used to be lovers, a decade earlier, now forced to work together by the federal government.
The story’s good, but the voice is better. The voice is everything. There’s a storm bearing down on us and I’m going to ask this woman to marry me any minute, but right now all I want is to listen to her read to me from her book.
She trails off and I can feel her attention shifting from the book to me. “Are you asleep?” she whispers.
“No.” I smile but don’t open my eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Thunder rumbles in the near distance, and she sighs. “Let’s head in.”
She rolls away from me, and as she’s gathering her towel, I snatch the dental floss container from our bag. The internet has an answer for everything, apparently. The inside spool is exactly the right size to hold a ring, and this particular brand pops open like a ring box. I press on the sides, snapping the release, and spin the platinum band onto my pinky before she notices.
Dumping the plastic container back into the bag, I make a fist to keep the ring hidden and stand up.
She steps out onto the beach first, then I follow.
“Forever, by the way,” I say.
She turns around. “Pardon.”
As if on command, the sky cracks with thunder again. I drop to one knee and hold out the ring. “I love you forever.”
“Max…” She drops our beach bag in the sand and steps closer, her eyes as big as saucers.
My heart thumps hard against my ribcage. “You are goodness and you are light. You make me happy, and that’s no simple task. When I am with you, I…smile. All the time. You’re smart and funny and saucy and sweet. I want to spend the rest of my—” Another rumble of thunder, closer now, interrupts me. I don’t stop for long. “The rest of my life making you happy and keeping that smile on your gorgeous face. I want to marry you, Violet Roberts. I want to be your husband and your love, forever. Will you marry me?”
“Only you would propose in a thunderstorm,” she whispers, falling to her knees in front of me. The first rain drops hit us as she takes the ring and nods. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
I take her hand, making sure that ring goes right where I want it to be, before I drive my hands into her hair and hold her still for a long, hungry kiss.
“We’re going to get hit by lightning,” she whispers when I let her up for air.
“We’ve still got a minute or two.” I kiss her again, then stand and lift her into my arms. She buries her face in my neck as the rain picks up, but I don’t care. In a few long strides, we’re back in our villa, leaving the storm behind us.
51
Violet
Hannah is the only person who notices the massive rock on my left hand when I return to work, and I promise to tell her all about my engagement after lunch.
Before lunch, I have a meeting with William Novak, one of the firm’s senior partners, and the man who technically holds Max’s account.
Gail arrives ten minutes early, causing Derrick to do two sail-bys past my office door in the hopes of figuring out why a prominent Ottawa employment attorney is sitting across from me, chatting about the Caribbean.
“Next time you have to go Aruba,” she says. “Or the British Virgin Isles.”
“Noted.” I practice my confident, winning smile that’s a total sham.
She lowers her voice. “No matter what, you will be fine.”
I nod. This is something Ellie and I talked about last week at my first hockey game. I wore Max’s Canucks jersey and grudgingly put on a horrifying knit toque with buck teeth and big googly eyes. “A beaver,” she pronounced proudly.
“Wow,” I said.
“That’s my second attempt. This was my first one.” She pulled a matching one from her bag and popped it on her head.
She’d knit us matching beaver toques to wear while our men played hockey. Because we were the unofficial cheering squad, the Frisky Beavers, and she was an adorable dork.
I put the hat on.
And we talked about how women lived in fear of losing their jobs, and men dreamed of starting their own businesses, and how we’d all be a little further ahead if we could just shift the power on that.
Gail’s right. No matter what, I’ll be fine.
If I’m fired from Katz & Novak, I’ll open my own firm. A terrifying idea, but I’ve learned lately that wonderful things can come from stepping into fear.
I take a deep breath. One minute to go. I stand, and Gail follows me all the way to Novak’s office.
Our human resources administrator is already there, and I nod at her, acknowledging her presence. I requested it when I asked for the meeting.
“William,” I say, holding out my hand. “Thank you for making time for a formal sit down. You know Gail Besson.”
“I do. Nice to see you again, Gail.” He shakes my hand, then hers, and gestures for us to sit. “What is this about, Violet?”
I take a deep breath, then let it out. Slowly. I get to set the pace, at least to start, and there’s no need to rush. But there’s no beating around the bush, either. “As of this moment, I can no longer represent Max Donovan’s legal interests. In July, prior to Mr. Donovan retaining the services of this firm, we met in a social capacity. Our next meeting was here, in a professional capacity. However, the nature of our relationship was established at that initial meeting, and we have reached the point where it would be advisable for a Chinese Wall to be established around the work this firm does for his account. Further, my attorney has a letter which she will now share that outlines my concerns as to how difficult this was to bring up at an earlier date, most specifically
the lack of an internal policy with regard to pre-existing personal relationships.”
I wait as Gail hands that over, then continue. “I am proud of the work I have done as an associate here at Katz & Novak. My billing…” I continue, the rest of my planned spiel spilling out more effortlessly. I’m not one to brag, but I can talk confidently about my accomplishments.
When I finish, William doesn’t say anything at first. Between the two named partners, he’s the glad-hander, the people person…and he’s smooth. Controlled. Marek Katz works a hundred hours a week and is a deadly negotiator, but William Novak is the face of the firm for a reason.
He knows how to do this, how to destabilize the person across the table from him with nothing more than careful silence.
“We take professional development seriously for all of our attorneys, but particularly for our associates,” he finally says, leaning forward on his desk and drumming his fingers on his blotter. “This is a serious charge that you didn’t feel comfortable raising the conflict of interest when you were brought on to the account.”
I stiffen, but before I can say anything, Gail puts her hand on my forearm. “My client is not making any charge or accusation at this time. The letter in front of you is only to provide a clear documentation of the facts which we are informing you of today. She remains a committed and proud associate of this firm.”
“And yet she hired an employment lawyer,” William says, laughing. “Come on, Gail. You’re here to make sure I don’t fire Violet, which I have no intention of doing, and not just because you’d sue us for all we’re worth if I did.” He turns his attention to me. “Thank you for informing us that you are no longer able to represent Mr. Donovan. A Chinese Wall will be put in place, and I trust that you will diligently protect that as well.”
I exhale. “I will.”
“The matter of our internal policies will need to be revisited.” He frowns. “On a personal level, and I’d like your attorney to note the distinction…” His gaze lands on my ring finger. “I take it congratulations are in order?”
In more ways than one, but we’ll leave the baby news for another day. I nod.
He returns the simple gesture. “Okay, then. Back to work.”
I’m shaking as we return to my office.
“That’s not necessarily the end of it,” Gail warns me as she closes my door.
“I know.”
“And if you get any flack, from anyone, report it immediately to human resources. You won’t be forgiven a second time for hiding anything that should be addressed.”
I know that as well. “Thank you, for everything.”
She grins. “Don’t mention it. This was fun.”
And her bill will be in the mail. I laugh. I get it. We shake hands, then she leaves and I buckle down to get my own work done.
I tell Hannah about the engagement as we eat salads she fetches from the deli, and she tells me she knew all along there was something about Max.
I did, too.
I get in to the office early the next morning. One of my clients likes to meet at eight, so I get that out of the way, then I’m working on a filing when William knocks on my door.
My stomach flip flops as I stand up. “Yes, sir?”
He waves me back down. “Sit, please.” He’s frowning. “I thought our conversation yesterday was…clear. It was an unfortunate misunderstanding, but I understand matters of the heart, and all’s well that ends well, really.”
“Right. Yes. And I’m grateful for that understanding.” My palms are sweating as I try to stay within the bounds of what Gail will let me say. Lawyers are so bossy.
“I just got off the phone with the prime minister.”
Oh, shit. The flip-flopping stomach does a nose-dive. Morning sickness has nothing on fiancé interference. “I didn’t…I mean…That’s…Oh. I’m…”
He shakes his head. “I’m assuming you didn’t have anything to do with that.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “No. Not at all, sir.”
“Your fiancé loves you very much.”
“Yes.”
“I told his best friend that you’re a capable attorney who can fight her own battles.”
“I appreciate that vote of confidence.”
“But just to be clear here, there’s no battle. We’re all human, and I hope this is the last we hear of this business.”
“Well…” Shit. Sorry, Gail. “The thing is, William, I’m pregnant. So I’ll be taking some time off at the end of the summer.”
He stares at me, then laughs. “Okay. Congratulations on multiple fronts.” He shakes his head. “Jesus. Is that the end of it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Get back to work.” He chuckles again and rises.
I hold my breath until he leaves, then I pick up the phone.
52
Max
I’m still in Gavin’s office when Violet calls. He’s already laughing at me as I answer it.
“Hello.”
“Don’t hello me. What did you do?”
“I went to rounds this morning, and then I came to see Gavin for coffee.” And maybe asked him to make a phone call.
“He’s busy running a country, Max! And I do not need him interfering with my job. I have it handled, in a normal, professional manner.”
I grin. “I know, but I just happened to mention the matter to an employment lawyer that I know…” Gavin waves for me to hand over the phone. “Hang on, love. Gavin wants to talk to you.”
I pass it across. He takes it and clears his throat. “Violet, good to talk to you again.”
He nods as she says something. I imagine she’s stammering now, dialling back the anger because he’s the PM and she’s nothing if not polite.
“I understand that, but as I explained to William Novak, this is an area of the law that I have a fair bit of experience in, and when I heard about the case, I thought I’d express an interest. For legal reasons.”
I can hear her voice murmuring through the phone, and he smiles.
“Of course. I’d love to discuss that further. Should we do lunch? Talk to Beth and get on my schedule. I can’t wait. Okay. Talk later.” He taps his thumb against the screen and hands the phone back. “Your fiancée is lovely.”
“Mmm. Did you just make a date with her? And what if I wanted to say goodbye?”
He shakes his head. “She didn’t want to say goodbye to you.”
“You’re the one that called her boss.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, but I’m the prime minister. It comes with some advantages. Now get out of my office. I’m meeting a potential new member of my security team in a few minutes.”
“I will in a second. But listen, I wanted to ask you something else.” When he gives me a raised eyebrow, like you’ve done enough damage for one morning, I wave him off. “I’d like to marry Violet sooner than later.”
“How soon?”
“Within the month. Something simple. A justice of the peace, that kind of thing. But I’d like you to be my best man.”
Gavin comes around from his desk, his hand outstretched. “Absolutely.”
“I know you’ve got some travel coming up, so maybe…”
“Come on, let’s go see Beth. We’ll put it on the calendar right now. Do you want to do it at 24 Sussex? Wait.” He stops and claps my shoulder. “We should ask Violet that.”
“Probably.”
“You do that. It might mitigate the damage done by asking me to meddle.”
I laugh. I have plans to lick and slap my way through that apology, but sure, getting married at the prime minister’s residence might help, too.
I reach the door before Gavin does, so I pull it open. Normally the outer office where Beth sits is a quiet place, humming with productivity and a general sense of officialness.
Right now, though, something is…happening.
I’m not even sure what, so I stop in the doorway and Gavin almost runs into me. I quietly step to the side so he c
an watch with me.
Beth is at her desk, but she’s staring wide-eyed at Lachlan, who has just pushed up out of his chair with so much force, it rocked back hard enough for it to leave a dent in the wall.
53
Lachlan
I thought I'd prepared myself for this moment, but seeing Hugh Evans in the flesh again after ten years is a punch to the gut.
I stiffly extend my hand. "Hugh, good to see you."
It's a lie. It's not good to see him at all. It's nauseating and confusing. He looks good, though. Time has been kind to him—made him even sexier. Maybe it’s the suit. I haven't seen him in a suit before, and…
That doesn't matter.
He takes my hand, and I brace against the spark I fully anticipate. My body doesn't disappoint. As soon as his fingers wrap around mine, a strong, quick handshake, every cell in my body wakes up. I remember everything those thick, blunt fingers have done to me. My dick begins to swell at the familiar touch. I try to ignore it.
“Lachlan.” His voice is deep and gravelly, and there’s no ignoring the jolt I feel at my name on his lips.
I pull my hand away and turn to face Beth. “Would you let the prime minister know Hugh Evans is here?”
“He already knows.” At the sound of Gavin’s amused voice, I swivel around to see him and Max Donovan standing in the open doorway behind me. After a quick introduction, Gavin and Hugh disappear into Gavin’s office.
Max, the bastard, walks past me grinning like an idiot. He stops in front of Beth’s desk, says something about squeezing into Gavin’s calendar and leaves.
I return to my seat, avoiding Beth’s curious gaze. Except I’m shitty at it because I’m watching her out of the corner of my eye. Surely it can’t seem that hard to believe I’d know at least one person on the shortlist of candidates interviewing for the spot opening up on the security team.
Gavin will spend at most five minutes with Hugh, but those minutes drag on forever.
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