Romano
February 12th
1:51 P.M
The soft hum of my servers is practically white noise at this point, blending into the quiet rhythm of my office. This room is my sanctuary, my fortress of technology buried deep in the house, secured with biometric locks and state-of-the-art encryption.
It’s all sleek, modern, and bathed in neon glow—a mix of matte black walls, glass panels, and strategically placed LED strips that cast an almost futuristic blue light around the room. A wall of monitors stretches across the far side, displaying live security feeds, encrypted data streams, and whatever else I feel like keeping an eye on. My desk is a custom-built beast of touchscreens and hidden compartments, glowing softly beneath my fingers as I absently scroll through different files.
I’m lounging in one of my gaming chairs, hoodie loose around my frame, sleeves shoved up to my elbows. I’m in black joggers and socks because shoes are for the oppressed, and my round glasses keep slipping down my nose as I scan through security logs. I shove them up with the back of my hand, half-listening as Jace leans against the side of my desk.
“What type of flowers do you think our wife likes?” I look up at him, grinning.
Jace raises a brow. “Why?”
And this is why I like him—he never judges me for my random ass ideas. If anything, he seems genuinely interested.
I roll my chair back a little, stretching my arms above my head. “It’s Valentine’s Day in a few days. I wanted to send flowers, but now I’m thinking about it—what if we each send her a courting gift instead? Like a gift basket?”
That gets him. His whole face lights up, his dimple popping. “That’s a great idea.”
I grin, already pulling up my phone. “Call the others and see what they’d want to pick, and I’ll go pick it up.”
“Why not just order it?” Jace asks, already dialing as he walks across the room, his black button-up stretched across his broad chest, sleeves rolled up just enough to show off his ink. He’s wearing fitted black jeans, his usual casual but expensive look, which says he could charm his way into a boardroom or a fight without changing outfits.
I shake my head, already distracted, already excited. “You can’t feel the textures of a picture.”
Jace chuckles, shaking his head like I’m a lost cause but amused all the same.
I start tapping out a text to Elizabeth Creed, the one person who will absolutely know what our wife-to-be likes. It doesn’t take long for her to respond—quick, efficient, no-nonsense—and when I see the list of things Fallon enjoys, my grin stretches even wider.
I tuck my phone back into my hoodie pocket, rubbing my hands together, my brain already sorting through ideas like a heist plan.
Jace comes back in, grinning.
“King loved the idea, and Voss is on board.” He grabs his jacket off the back of my chair. “Come on. I’m coming with.”
I push myself up from my seat, shoving my glasses back up again before I snag my keys off the desk and shove my feet into boots.
“Let’s go spoil our girl.”
The SUV hums beneath my hands, the wheel warm from the heat of the engine as I drum my fingers against it, bouncing slightly in my seat.
Jace is entirely unbothered. He’s reclining in the passenger seat, one arm resting lazily along the door, his blue eyes half-lidded but definitely watching me like he’s waiting for me to do something stupid, which is fair. I’m driving. And I drive like I have no regard for speed limits.
The engine growls as I swerve around a slower car, cutting into the next lane like a man on a mission. I glance at Jace, grinning.
“You’re going to get us pulled over.” He doesn’t even sound worried—just mildly resigned to his fate.
“Nah,” I wave him off, foot pressing just a little harder on the gas. “I’ll talk my way out of it.”
Jace snorts, shaking his head. “Right. Because cops love unhinged tech geniuses.”
I shoot him a mock-offended look before turning back to the road. “I am not unhinged. I’m just—highly enthusiastic. Voss is the unhinged one.”
Jace doesn’t even dignify that with a response. The look he gives me says enough.
Still, he’s grinning, and I can’t help but feel giddy as hell. We’re going to pamper the absolute hell out of our wife-to-be.