Page 34 of Taking Denver

Forever, then.

She was never agreeable. Never easy to deal with. But Axel liked her. The staff liked her. I liked her despite her fighting me every step of the way with work, with security, with her name. She wouldn’t be a DeLuca under my roof. She was a Luxe, or she was nothing. She’d taken that literally and changed her surname to ‘Nothing’ for three weeks to defy me. That had made me laugh.

She was stubborn. She was strong. She was a good influence on Axel and even on me.

And every day she lived in my house, I fought my feelings for her because I didn’t want to cross that line. I’d ignored the electricity between us, how she sometimes looked at me, and how I felt whenever she was close.

When she’d convinced me to watch a movie with her one night, I’d focused so hard on anything but her that I hadn’t noticed her watching me. She’d brushed my hair back, scrunched up her nose, and said, “Smile, Grim Reaper. This movie is supposed to be fun.”

I’d almost kissed her.

Instead, I backed away after that night, colder with her than I’d ever been, determined to keep a safe distance.

And that was when she’d met Wyatt.

Or, more accurately, Wyatt met her.

But two long years later, she’s a widow.

And mine.

Cal is waiting outside the hotel. He’s spent most of his night checking the building is safe, sending me regular updates and occasional complaints about his lack of sleep. He’s the only person in the world, aside from Denver, that I allow to push their luck with me, and only because he’s always proved to be a loyal soldier. He’s quick, efficient, and, for the most part, happy to follow orders.

Cal runs a hand over his close-cropped, dirty blond hair. He never lets it grow, a habit he said had stuck with him from the forces. He’s younger than me, and while I spent most of my life running the underground of San Francisco, Cal had been in the military. He doesn’t talk much about his life as an actual soldier—his proclivity for violence was all I needed to know about before I hired him.

“She good?” Cal asks.

I open the trunk of the Mercedes and place my bag inside. “Fix your tie. You look like a slob.”

Cal glares at me. “It’s like a hundred fucking degrees. There’s sand in this suit where there shouldn’t be sand. Is she good?”

I slam the trunk shut. “She’s fine.”

“We killing the vet?” A vacationer throws Cal a wide-eyed look, and he grins at her. “Hey.” She scurries away, and he returns his attention to me. “Are we?”

I want to. I’d considered going over in the night to kill Ethan and his friends but had resisted. “No.”

Cal narrows his eyes. “Is this some kind of secret code?”

“No.”

“And by ‘no,’ you mean…”

I clench my jaw. “I mean, we’re not killing him.”

Cal’s face twists into a scowl. “Why not?”

“Because Denver wouldn’t want it.”

And as tempting as it is to put a bullet between Ethan’s eyes, I won’t risk pushing Denver away again. The vet is a passing fancy, that’s all.

“Sounds familiar,” Cal mumbles.

Yes, it does.

As Cal drives, I’m consumed with a feeling I don’t often entertain—guilt. I fucking hate leaving her behind. I hate leaving her in the hands of a man who cannot take care of her. I hate all of it.

But I mostly hate that she manipulated me, again, and I allowed it. If I told her she could stay here forever, she would. If I released her from my house, she’d leave. And while I’m not a good enough man to do either of those things, I at least want her towantto be kept by me. I want her to want me openly. She acts like she’d die if she gave herself to me, but the reality is, I’d cut out my own heart to keep her alive.

---