Page 20 of Fated Surrender

He nodded. She was going to have to find out the hard way. He was no one’s pushover.

Luck was with them. One of his brothers had dropped his quad cab truck off at his house and made sure that Madison’s luggage was waiting for them in the foyer.

“I need thirty minutes to get ready,” Madison said, grabbing two suitcases.

“We don’t have time for you to primp,” Connor said, feeling frustrated.

“Connor, appearance is everything to these yahoos. I have a feeling I will be tagging along a lot on these type of road trips from now on. First impressions are crucial. I haven’t met everyone there yet. They need to meet me as the ball-busting lawyer I am, not the ‘I’ve been thoroughly fucked by my mate and I’m wearing three-day-old travel clothes’ type of woman. If I am to be an asset to you, we need to take thirty minutes for me to get ready. The dead aren’t going anywhere, and that son of a bitch knows you were on your honeymoon. Let them fucking wait,” she said, turning to face the house.

“Where is your bedroom?” she asked.

“I love you,” Connor said, completely taken with his mate.

With her back to him, she hesitated.

“I know. Bedroom?” she asked again.

Connor’s eyes narrowed.

“Upstairs only bedroom on the left.” She headed up the stairs and disappeared behind his bedroom door.

Connor fought down his anger. His mate had agreed to be claimed, but her heart wasn’t fully vested yet. She had agreed to the claiming, to satisfy the demands her body was making on her.

He was going to have to up his game to get his wildcat to surrender to him completely. He ran a hand over his jaw and discovered three-day-old stubble. She did have a point about appearances.

He took advantage of the time she was using to change clothes. He opened the bedroom door and went to his closet. In the back, hanging on the left were his old suits. He had had a naïve hope that he would never have to wear them again, trading them in for his apron. He should have known better.

He got changed and stared at the man in the mirror. His shoes were polished and gleamed with a mirror like surface. His black suit made his designer white shirt look crisp and clean. Hedecided not to wear the tie or shave, it gave him a rougher look. Finally, he looped his arm through his leather, over the shoulder gun holster. He opened his gun safe and loaded his weapon. By the time he had the gun in the holster and his jacket on, his mate was walking out of the bathroom.

Her hair looked dark brown wet, but he knew it would warm up to the auburn color as it dried. She wore pearl earrings and necklace, classy and elegant, and a simple black dress that fit her curvy body perfectly. Over the stunning black number she added a gray blazer. She went with a black kitten heel but dropped a pair of stilettos in a small overnight bag along with a shimmery ivory shrug. He liked that without even saying anything to each other, they had both planned for any eventuality, including a high-power dinner with the commander later. He smiled and stalked toward her.

When she looked up and saw him walking toward him, her mouth opened and closed repeatedly. He raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked.

“You look completely different. I mean I thought you were sexy before, rocking the country look, but in that suit.” Her eyes filled with lust.

Showing great restraint, he shook his head.

“Later, honey. Let’s hit the road.” He winked and couldn’t help the swagger he added to his step.

“Bastard.” He heard her murmur. He was feeling on top of the world until she said, “Just so you know. My panties are coming off at some point this evening before we get back. They may or may not end up in your pocket.” She walked past him carrying her bag.

“Son of a bitch.” He groaned and she laughed.

When they got to the tall corporate-looking building in Brighton, Connor easily maneuvered his truck through the underground parking garage taking a reserved parking spot. He dug into the console and pulled out his swipe badge ID. Attaching it to his belt, he got out and went around to open the door for his mate.

“First stop is the front desk to get you a badge,” he said.

She smiled and waved a small piece of white plastic at him.

“I have one from when I filed a complaint about my sister’s disappearance. I showed up at the New York office so often they got tired of issuing me a visitor’s badge.” She clipped hers to her blazer.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking her hand.

They walked through the building until they came to a set of large glass double doors. Using his badge, he swiped to unlock the door and they continued through.

“Whoo-hoo Arkadion, whatcha got there?” a male voice called.

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