Page 118 of Elusive Promise

"You don't have to worry, either."

"I know." She squeezed his fingers. "It was a beautiful wedding—quiet, intimate, understated, exactly what Jasmine wanted. She found her voice with Westley."

"And he realized that getting married was about more than a big show when he almost lost her." He paused, curious about something. "What kind of wedding would you want?"

"Is that a proposal?"

He laughed. "Hell, no. When I propose to you, you will know it. And it will happen. I just want us to get everything figured out first."

"We're almost there. We both have jobs in DC now. I'm going to work on a new task force, and you're going to head the Domestic Protection Division of the CIA. You thought you were getting fired, and instead you got a big promotion."

"I'll be riding a desk, but I'll be making more money."

Her brow lifted in concern. "It is what you want, right?"

"It is. Really," he reassured her. "I'm happy to still be working toward keeping this nation safe, but I don't need to be in the field to do that. I'd rather be with you."

"In our new home in Georgetown, and our weekend getaway house in Upstate New York."

"It's all coming together. And I'm looking forward to getting to know your mother and stepfather better." They'd already spent one long evening with them, and he'd been happy with the warm welcome they'd given him.

"I haven't lived in the same city with my mother and stepfather in about eight years. It will be weird but also good to have family dinners again. I'm excited to meet your family, too," she said.

"They can't wait. We'll be in Hawaii tomorrow."

They were going to spend the week there before settling into their jobs in DC. And he had a very special evening planned—on a beach, at sunset, with the woman of his dreams—the woman he would ask to be his wife. He almost wanted to do it now, just because he couldn't wait. But this was Jasmine's night, and he wanted the proposal to be only about him and Parisa.

"Shall we dance?" Parisa asked, as the music began, and couples drifted on to the dance floor.

He set his champagne glass down on a nearby tray. As he did so, he saw a familiar face and one he didn't quite trust.

"Parisa," Vincent Rowland said.

"Vincent," she said with surprise. "Have you been here all evening?"

"No. I just arrived. My plane was late, unfortunately, and I missed the ceremony, but I heard it was lovely."

"It was," she agreed.

"It's good to see my godson so happy," Vincent added, tipping his head toward the bride and groom, who were smiling deep into each other's eyes as they danced together. "To think what they went through to get here."

"They were definitely tested, but they're going to have a long life together."

"Yes." Vincent glanced in Jared's direction. "I don't think we've officially met."

"Jared MacIntyre." His real last name was Beckham, but aside from Parisa and his family members, no one else knew that. His mother had kept her name of Montgomery when she married, so he hadn't lied when he'd told Parisa that. He'd become Jared MacIntyre when he entered the CIA, and he would remain that until he quit.

"Vincent Rowland."

"I've heard a lot about you," he drawled.

A gleam entered Vincent's eyes. "All good, I hope."

"I know your son was very important to Parisa. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Yes, thank you. Jamie was very important to me, too." Vincent cleared his throat. "I'm going to offer my congratulations to the families. Parisa—I'm sure we'll see each other again soon."

"I look forward to it," she said.

---