by Lucy Score
They celebrated in high style in a large private room at the Beverly Hills Hotel in an event worthy of a red carpet. Micah brought his wife and daughters, whom he hadn’t seen in days.
Chelsea showed up with Travers, and Xavier hated the way they were looking at each other. The two of them did pull Xavier and Micah aside. First, Travers announced that Waverly was officially no longer a suspect in Dante’s non-murder and the non-kidnapping of Petra. Rather than being pissed at Travers for going rogue, his superiors were grateful that he’d saved the FBI untold embarrassment by avoiding the very public arrest of Waverly Sinner. However, they were anxious to talk to her. It could wait a day, Xavier told him firmly.
Chelsea delivered even better news. She’d followed the money and gotten a break when she narrowed her search to members of the Joint Intelligence Community Council. Nancy O’Mara had been a three-term senator with much higher political aspirations. Now, as Secretary of the Treasury, O’Mara was privy to information about investigations and missions within the intelligence community. With first-hand information of what did and didn’t happen within the bounds of the law, it would have been easy to push potential operations toward Target Productions and Brad Tomasso. The FBI was quietly beginning a classified investigation of O’Mara.
Waverly’s parents joined the party in full on Hollywood glamour in a slinky ivory gown and a crisp tuxedo. While Xavier was dealing with the cleanup of a successful mission, Waverly had a long conversation with the still-recovering Sylvia and Robert that afternoon. She’d come clean from the looks of it.
Xavier greeted Sylvia with a kiss on each cheek and shook Robert’s hand.
“You pulled it off again,” Robert congratulated him. “Keeping my daughter safe is still a full-time job for you.”
“She kept herself safe and ended up saving me this time around,” Xavier corrected him. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but your daughter is an amazing woman.”
“I gathered that you felt that way from the ring she keeps staring at,” Robert said, glancing over to where his daughter greeted Grigory and Anatoli who arrived in celebratory tuxedos.
“She said yes this morning,” Xavier said, feeling the grin stretch across his face. “We just haven’t had a chance to make an announcement, yet.” Or talk about it. That too would be remedied soon.
“Well, we’re thrilled for you both,” Sylvia announced from under Robert’s protective arm.
“Sylvia, I owe you a huge apology,” Xavier began. “I never considered the possibility that Tomasso would involve you. Let alone drug and kidnap you and use you as a bargaining chip. It was an unforgiveable miscalculation.”
“I know this is going to sound strange, but having the opportunity to see you and my daughter in action like that made the whole ordeal worth it. Consider yourself forgiven, and try not to take so much responsibility for everything, Xavier,” Sylvia said with a smile.
“I’ll do my best,” he grinned.
Petra and Dante arrived arm in arm. Petra glowed in a soft pink gown, but Xavier had a feeling most of the glow was due to Dante. To Petra, he was the hero of the day. They made a beeline for Grigory, and Xavier laughed when he saw the man’s enthusiastic greeting for Petra ice over once he turned his attention to Dante. Dante was unfazed and gave the man a smacking kiss on both cheeks.
Kate surprised them all when she showed up arm in arm with Simon Shipley, the popular entertainment TV host and long-time Kate crush.
“We’ve kind of been dating for about six months now,” Kate confessed when Xavier pressed glasses of champagne into their hands.
“You’re better at keeping secrets than we are,” Xavier said, giving her a kiss on her cheek.
“And don’t worry, I’ve sworn Simon to secrecy, so if you don’t want any sparkly diamond news to get out, it won’t,” she winked.
“I appreciate that, and on that note, I think I’ll go find my fiancée,” Xavier announced and went in search of Waverly.
He found her near the bar talking to Micah’s wife, Suzanne, and doling out sodas to Micah’s girls. She wore fire engine red, a victorious color and sexy too in the short skirt and the low back. Her hair was down in loose waves, and while she now sported a spectacular bruise on her ribs from the shot Tomasso took at her, the shadows in her eyes were gone. The shadows under her eyes? Well, he’d take care of those. Sleep, rest, and maybe a real vacation were in order, he decided.
He slipped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I see you’ve met Micah’s women,” Xavier said to Waverly, drawing smiles from Micah’s three daughters.
“You’ve got yourself a lovely woman here,” Suzanne said. “Try not to screw it up this time.” She gave him a wink and hustled the girls off to where servers were hauling out trays of appetizers.
Waverly turned in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck, and for a second, Xavier’s heart stopped. Everything he’d wanted had come true in one day. It was almost too much to handle.
She smiled up at him, and his heart started again. “I don’t know where to start,” he confessed.
Waverly cocked her head to the side, the ends of her hair brushing his hands. “What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s so many things I want to say to you. I just don’t know where to start.”
“Pick one,” she laughed.
“You were incredible today. You look beautiful right now. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
“That’s a pretty good start.”
“My heart is full, and my dick is hard.”
Waverly laughed and slapped a hand over his mouth.
“Xavier, my parents are here!” But her words were undercut when she cuddled her hips against his. He heard the low purr in her throat when she rubbed against him.
He held her tight against him.
“We need to tell your parents!” she gasped.
“I think my parents know that you make me hard, and I’m sure none of us really need or want to have that conversation.”
She rolled her eyes, her fingers brushing the back of his neck. “We need to tell your parents we’re engaged. I don’t want them to hear it from anyone else, and judging by Dante and Petra’s entrance, there’s going to be a herd of paparazzi outside.”
Xavier shifted her into one arm and reached into his jacket pocket. He fished out his phone and opened the camera. “Smile pretty and hold up your hand,” he ordered.
She did as she was told, and he snapped the picture. “There,” he said, typing a quick text. “My parents have been alerted.”
“We should go see them soon,” Waverly decided. “I haven’t seen Madelyn in ages.”
“As soon as this mess is cleaned up, we’ll fly out,” Xavier promised.
“You’re awfully accommodating tonight,” she laughed.
“It’s hard not to feel generous when I have everything I ever wanted.”
Her face turned suddenly serious. “I love you, Xavier.”
“I’m never going to get tired of hearing those words from your perfect mouth,” he said, rubbing his thumb over her lips. “Please don’t make me wait to make this official.”
“You don’t want a long engagement?” Waverly teased.
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I think I’m going to need longer than twelve hours’ notice.”
“What kind of wedding do you want?” he asked, curious.
She shook her head. “I have no idea. One that doesn’t resemble a circus,” she decided.
“I can make that happen,” he promised her.
“You really love me, don’t you?” Waverly said, skimming her fingertips down his cheek, following the line of his jaw. “How did I get to be so lucky?”
“Angel, I’m going to ask myself that every day for the rest of my life.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
If the lead up to the sting had been stressful, the cleanup wa
s a thousand times worse. Between the pissing contests of local law enforcement and the feds, the endless secret debriefings with just about every intelligence agency in the country, and turning over every shred of evidence they had collected against Tomasso, Target Productions, and Nancy O’Mara, Xavier was exhausted.
Throw in two trips to London to divide the new Invictus office oversight with Micah, and Xavier was ready to sleep for a week. And then drag Waverly to Vegas to get married.
He’d barely seen her since the night they’d celebrated their victory over Tomasso. Xavier had made it his mission to keep Waverly’s name out of everything surrounding Tomasso’s arrest, and that had involved weeks of cleanup.
Once again, their drama had played out in spectacular fashion. But this time, it hadn’t also been broadcast on cell phone screens across America. This time, Xavier did everything he could to keep her name out of the fallout.
Thankfully, the FBI and the rest of the intelligence community agreed that disclosing the details of Target’s role—and by extension Waverly and Dante’s roles—in operations would be detrimental to say the least.
For the foreseeable future, the entire case was classified.
He slid into the buttery leather seat of the private jet and fastened his seatbelt. The Invictus jet had become more of a home to him in the past few weeks than any building. Flights to D.C., London, and back to Los Angeles had wreaked havoc with his sleep. But he was working with a purpose.
He’d dealt with a small team made up of trustworthy, tight-lipped FBI and SEC agents who had quietly conducted an investigation into Nancy O’Mara and Axion Pharmaceuticals without the knowledge of the Joint Intelligence Community Council. Tomasso had clammed up after his arrest and hadn’t spoken to anyone but his attorney since. If he was waiting for his partner to bail him out, he was shit out of luck. Guards had caught a sanctioned hit just as it began in the cafeteria. Tomasso was alive—barely—but it was clear O’Mara was tying up loose ends.
With the patient digging of the investigative team and the inmates who connected an O’Mara aide to the attempted hit, they had enough for an arrest. Travers had extended a courtesy invitation to Xavier to play a role in the takedown. He could have passed on it. But he wanted to see this through. O’Mara and then Axion were the last two dominoes that needed to fall into place before he could finally begin his life with Waverly.
The arrest had gone down quietly at O’Mara’s tri-level Georgetown brownstone that morning. She was a statuesque woman in a four thousand-dollar pantsuit with what many who had faced her in committee meetings called a really shitty attitude toward the intelligence community.
And that shitty attitude had reared its ugly head when she realized the connection had been made between her and Tomasso. It had gotten ugly enough that once she spit in the face of an SEC investigator and slapped the female FBI agent who dared try to cuff her, Xavier took great pleasure in sweeping her legs out from under her and slapping on the cuffs a little harder than necessary.
“That’s for Waverly,” he’d whispered in her ear as she shrieked about her constitutional rights and demanded her lawyer.
He’d turned O’Mara over to Travers and considered his job finally done. He was flying home tonight, crawling between the sheets, and sleeping next to Waverly for a week. Then he was going to make love to her for another week. And then he was going to talk her into eloping somewhere. Anywhere.
He was ready for their new beginning.
--------
Their new beginning was off to a rough start.
Waverly wasn’t home, and her luggage was missing. He swore, looking in her closet and rifling through drawers. She was supposed to tell him when she was traveling. Technically, he should have called to tell her he was coming home tonight. But he’d wanted to surprise her.
He dialed her number and bit off a curse when it went straight to voicemail. He tried Kate’s phone and got the same result. Where the hell would she be?
He spotted it on the dining table downstairs. A heart shaped sticky note.
X,
Taking a little vacation.
Love,
W
Swearing, he dumped the dirty clothes out of his bag and stomped back upstairs into Waverly’s closet. He’d moved more clothes in on his too-short stopovers between D.C. and London and hastily repacked his bag.
If she thought she could sneak away from him, Waverly Sinner had another thing coming.
--------
It took nearly eighteen hours for him to find her, make travel arrangements, and get there himself. Xavier gave into exhaustion and slept on the nearly nine-hour flight and woke to tropical sunshine and a new country. In deference to the humidity, Xavier changed into shorts before going through customs.
He was still tired and still ready for a fight by the time he made it out onto the sidewalk and into Bridgetown, Barbados.
The cab smelled like fried food, and the driver swerved around potholes like an Indy car driver, honking his horn at locals and shouting greetings out his open window. It would have been entertaining had Xavier not had murder on his mind.
She should have waited for him. Everything he’d done in the weeks since the sting had been for her, and she couldn’t wait one day for him to come home? With a honk and a wave, the cab pulled into a white stucco resort draped in pink, vining flowers. The Palm Court, read the gold script on the weathered sign. Beyond the hotel, he could just catch a glimpse of the kind of blue waters that made men dream of beautiful women in bikinis and trays of umbrella drinks.
The woman with a thousand curls and a pearl white smile behind the front desk directed him to Ms. Sinner on the beach. She told him she would see that his bag was taken to his room and handed him a rum punch.
“Welcome to Barbados, Mr. Saint,” she smiled.
Xavier wondered if he was so tired that he was hallucinating. He hadn’t introduced himself, yet she knew his name and insisted that he had a room booked. He decided it was best not to argue and took his rum punch to wander through the lobby to an open-air bar. The bartender in a smart navy vest waved a greeting. “Glad you made it, Mr. Saint.”
Xavier lifted a hand in greeting and confusion. What game was Waverly playing? He plucked his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on to face the sun glinting off the crystal waters of an infinity edge pool that seemed to merge with the ocean.
The beach was dotted with palms and umbrellaed flamboyant trees offering pockets of shade on the powder fine sand. Planters spilling over with the same pink flowers as out front dotted boardwalks that looped their way through the property.
Guests in various shades of tans and sunburns crowded around the outdoor bar for the first of three daily happy hours. He didn’t spare them a glance, but the bartender here, a lovely young girl with a sleek cap of black hair, called out a greeting.
“First lounger on the right, Mr. Saint!”
Puzzled, Xavier offered a wave and followed her directions. He was mid-sip of his rum punch when he spotted her, sprawled on a blue lounge chair wearing a white bikini, sipping her own tropical concoction.
Her eyes were hidden behind an enormous pair of sunglasses, but there was no hiding the smile that spread across her face when she spotted him.
“Nice of you to join me, Xavier.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again. Finally he gave up and sat down on the lounger next to her. “What the hell are you doing, Waverly?”
“I’m getting you to Barbados.” She sat up and spun around so her legs dangled off the side of the chaise.
He swiped a hand through his hair. “Angel, I’ve flown seven-thousand miles in the last twenty-four hours. Nancy O’Mara is in custody. Axion is under investigation, and their CEO has been arrested. You’re officially cleared of any and all charges, and your involvement in the case has been classified. I fly home to be with you, finally, and you don’t even tell me you’ve left the country?”
She cupped his face in her hands. “My poor X. How else am I supposed to surprise you with a wedding?”
The crystal blue of the waters seemed to etch themselves in his mind. The clouds hung motionless in the sky as everything froze.
“Whose wedding? If it’s Travers and Chelsea, I’m going to drown them both in the pool.”
Waverly laughed. “The Sinner Saint wedding.”
“We’re getting married?”
Waverly turned his wrist to look at his watch. “In about six hours. So you have time to get some lunch, have a drink, take a nap, and shower and then meet me back down here for a nice little ceremony.”
“We’re getting married?” he repeated. He knew he sounded stupid, but he still couldn’t quite grasp what was happening. Every dream he’d ever had was about to come true, and he was afraid that if he believed it for a second, it would all disappear.
Waverly nodded. “We’re getting married. As long as you’re okay with it.”
He moved so fast his rum punch tumbled to the sand. But it didn’t matter because he was picking her up and swinging her around.
Waverly laughed and wrapped her arms around him. “Is that a yes?”
“What about rings? What am I supposed to wear? What about our families?”
“Everything is taken care of,” she promised.
“I need more information than that,” he insisted.
“Well, first you’re going to kiss me, and then you’re going to go up to the pool bar and get a fresh drink. Then I’m going to go upstairs and start getting ready. I think my dress will look familiar since you bought it for me in Greece all those years ago.”
He hugged her to him, all vestiges of exhaustion gone. He heard the cheering then and, without releasing Waverly for fear that she’d disappear yet again, turned to see several familiar faces beaming at them from the pool deck. His parents and sisters, Waverly’s parents, Kate, Micah and Suzanne, Dante and Petra. All grinned down at them.
