Page 65 of Blake

Of course, every now and then, she felt a pang of sadness for Mia, who hadn’t found happiness like her, but Savannah would never stop searching for her. And maybe, one day, she’d find her friend and be able to help her find happiness like this.

A sudden vibration against her wrist pulled her from her reverie. Glancing down, she saw the image of a bat on the screen of her watch—her very own "bat phone" that Blake had gifted her. The message was clear: she was needed in the office.

"Must be important," she muttered, curiosity piqued. The corners of her lips curled upwards, anticipating a possible intimate moment with Blake. He never tried to initiate anything sexual with her in the playroom, but that didn’t stop him from calling her to him for those daily three orgasms they’d agreed upon.

She set the dolls down at their tiny dining table so they could eat some lunch while she was gone, then she sprinted toward the office.

Her heart raced as she burst through the door, green eyes searching for any sign of a romantic surprise. But there were no candles or rose petals; instead, she found Blake, his imposing figure hunched over a laptop, blue eyes serious and focused.

"Daddy?" she asked tentatively, trying to figure out whether this meeting was about work or something else entirely.

"Sit down, Savvy," he commanded gruffly, not looking up from the screen. His tone left no room for ambiguity—this was business, not pleasure.

Savannah took a deep breath, trying to quell the disappointment that threatened to dampen her spirits. "What's up, Blake?" she asked, forcing herself to focus on the matter at hand.

"Your investigative report," he said, finally lifting his gaze from the laptop to meet hers. "It's going viral, Savvy. There's a flood of emails and phone calls coming in. People are really connecting with it."

Her eyes widened. “You serious?”

She had worked so hard on the report. Ever since the gala event and all the chaos that followed, she had been desperateto release her story, to tell all that she knew, but with Blake’s help, she had learned to be patient. She had researched her story thoroughly and made sure every single word she wrote in it was watertight. She had detailed everything she knew about the trafficking ring, the Lucifer Club, the dirty cops, and the alderman. Of course, the story of the alderman’s corruption had already broken, but nobody knew quite how deep it went. The alderman had done everything in his power to cover it up, but Savannah had exposed it all in one trailblazing article.

"Seems like people are especially connecting with those profiles you wrote.”

Savannah nodded, pleased. She had written several accounts of the escaped and missing girls. She wanted people to remember that, at its heart, this wasn’t a story about a rotten councilor or a bunch of jerks in positions of power. It was a human story. About real women. Women who had suffered terribly.

“The story about Mia . . . it's resonating with everyone,” Blake continued.

"Really?" she breathed, grinning. It felt good to know people cared. But mixed with the exhilaration was a twinge of anxiety; she hadn't expected her work to garner this much attention.

"Yep," Blake confirmed, a proud grin spreading across his face. "And there's more—you've been asked to appear on TV to talk about it."

"TV?" Savannah's eyes widened in surprise, but then she shook her head firmly. "No, Blake. I can't do that. This was never about fame or fortune. I just wanted to tell the women’s stories."

Blake's expression softened, understanding dawning in his blue eyes. "I know, Savvy. But think about it—this could help spread awareness even further."

She hesitated, torn between her desire to keep a low profile and the potential impact such exposure could have. Finally, she let out a sigh. "I'll think about it, okay? Just . . . not right now."

"Fair enough," he agreed, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand in support. "You did an incredible job, Savannah. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Blake," she whispered, her heart swelling with gratitude for his unwavering support.

Blake got up from his laptop and went over to hug her. It felt so good to be in his tight embrace. "We should celebrate, pumpkin," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "You've done something amazing here."

“Celebrate how?”

“I think it’s about time we threw a party in our new house, don’t you? A fancy dinner. Some parlor games for the Littles . . .”

She grinned. She hadn't considered celebrating but now that Blake mentioned it, the idea of a dinner party and some games sounded like a great way to unwind after the emotional journey she'd been on.

"Absolutely," she said. "Rosie would love it," she said, her voice laced with enthusiasm. Rosie had been such a rock for her during this whole experience, and she couldn't wait to include her new friend in the festivities.

"Of course, she's always up for a good time," he agreed, chuckling as he imagined the lively banter between Rosie and the rest of their friends.

"Although," Savannah mused, a mischievous glint in her eye, "we probably shouldn't seat Rosie and Nash together. They've been arguing like cats and dogs lately."

Blake's laughter rumbled through the room. "I noticed that too. You know what they say—there's a fine line between love and hate. Maybe they just need to get naked together and fuck it out of their system."

Savannah snorted, shaking her head. "As entertaining as that might be, I doubt Nash would ever go for it. He's too much of a gentleman."

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