Page 32 of The Billionaire's Wife

I looked away as my eyes filled. Having a life—a real one—sounded amazing. It was also a pipe dream. I knew that, but I couldn’t stop myself from yearning for it. If I was going that far, I might as well go ahead and pretend there was a way for Tristan and me to end up as a happy family.

I blinked back the tears and, when I was certain they wouldn’t betray me, looked back at Tristan, fully intending to say no.

“I’d like that.”

9

TRISTAN

“Ican’t believe you’re wearing a suit.”

I turned at Faith’s words and tilted my head to one side. “I’m not wearing jeans to meet the FBI.”

Faith glanced down at herself then back at me. “Am I underdressed? I don’t have a lot of options.”

“You look lovely.”

“But you—”

“I am an attorney.” I gave her my best shark-tooth smile. “I need to look the part. I don’t want Special Agent Orbison thinking he’s going to be able to pull a fast one because I haven’t danced with the FBI before.”

“I’m surprised.”

I shrugged. I’d had a few opportunities when I worked at the firm. Before I struck out on my own. I hadn’t wanted to then. Didn’t really want to now. But I’d do it for Faith. I checked the time. “We should go. Late isn’t a good look with the feds. Although we’ll be waiting, I’m sure, once we get to Orbison’s office.”

“Why?”

“Power move.” I opened the door and let Faith walk past me. It’d been two days since I’d chased her on the Beltway and convinced her to come back home with me. So far, there’d been no sightings of anyone from the Ortega cartel. I prayed constantly that would remain the case. But I was also glad that the FBI had finally returned my call.

“I hope you’re wrong.” Faith crossed her arms around herself. Her eyes were wide and she’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail. It made her look young and fragile.

“Why?” I checked the locks, then gestured toward the elevator.

“I don’t want to be a pawn in someone’s power game.” She snorted out a laugh. “Too late. I get that. But I don’t want to add any new players.”

I pushed the call button. I could understand what she was saying. But yeah, it was probably too late to keep that from happening. “I’ll do my best. Christopher—Scott’s friend from his old job—insists this guy is legit. Hopefully, that’ll turn out to be true.”

The elevator arrived, empty, and we stepped in. The ride down was silent and uneventful. When we stepped out into the parking garage, I took a quick look around. Nothing looked out of place or unusual. I couldn’t promise that I’d recognize a threat if it was subtle, but my paranoia had me continuing to try.

We hurried to my car. Faith was obviously as on edge as I was. I clicked the fob to unlock the doors and she pulled her side open before I could reach it. She waved me off. I frowned slightly, but went around to the driver’s side and climbed in. When both doors were shut, Faith punched the lock button.

“Okay. Let me get the GPS set up and we’ll be on our way.”

Faith nodded.

I pulled up the location on my map app and got the directions started before hooking my phone into the stand on the dashboard. I started the car, then reached over and took Faith’s hand.

“Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay.” Faith tried to tug her hand away. “You don’t know that.”

“I wasn’t going to. I was going to ask if you wanted to pray.” The times I’d tiptoed around the topic of church and faith and how her spiritual life was going, she’d deflected. Masterfully. But this situation wasn’t going to get fixed with legalese and feds alone. We were going to need the kind of help only Jesus could bring.

“Oh. If you want to, go for it. I don’t really…I haven’t been…”

I waited to see if she’d finish either statement. When she didn’t, I just squeezed her hand and offered a short prayer, asking for guidance, clarity, and protection. Then I started the car and headed out of the garage.

We’d made it through town to the highway before either of us spoke again.

Faith cleared her throat. “You still do all the Jesus stuff?”

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