Page 39 of Her Convict Wolf

“It’s over, baby.” Maxim hugs me tight as tears stream down my face. “Your father’s not going to hurt you anymore.”

I’ve done the right thing, I think, as I watch that evil man—my own flesh and blood—being led from the court in chains.

I’ve gotten justice for my mom, and all those other people who’ve suffered at his hands over the years.

Maxim holds me, until all the grief and worry has flowed out of me.

Then he draws back and looks at me thoughtfully.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“Notreally?” I say, wondering at the mischievous smile playing at his lips.

“I was thinking we could go out for dinner,” he says.

“No way?” I exclaim. Then my head drops. “I think it’s too dangerous. I’m just worried my dad might try to get revenge on me or something.”

Maxim holds both my hands in his. “Emory I’m so sorry that you have to even speak a sentence like that. But I have thought about that, and I’ve enlisted a little help from our gracious hosts.”

I shake my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Open the closet,” he says.

I dash over to it. Inside is a dress that wasn’t there twenty-four hours ago. I pull it out. It’s a beautiful black cocktail dress, strapless, slinky, with the label still attached. “Wow, this is gorgeous,” I breathe. “And it’s my size. When did you—? How?”

He grins. “I have my ways.”

“Now, we’re going to get ready, then we’re going to take a helicopter from Quantico to a private dining room in one of Washington’s most exclusive restaurants. I’ve been advised that it’s the preferred venue for high-value guests. It’s the place where the president likes to entertain his more vulnerable heads of state when they visit. The staff are highly vetted, everything reinforced, bullet-proof walls, windows, that kind of thing. How does that sound?”

I throw my arms around him, stomach full of butterflies. “That sounds incredible,” I say. “Thank you so much for organizing all this. I just can’t believe it.”

He grins. “Well, believe it when you see it. Now, go get ready. There’s a bunch of toiletries and stuff in the bathroom, too.” He pulls me close for one more kiss.

My gorgeous, incredible mate.

My head swims as we lose ourselves in each other again.

“Now go.” He swats my ass. “We’ve got a helicopter waiting.”

In the bathroom, I shower with a bunch of very fancy toiletries, then I look at myself in the mirror. I’m going to skip the glasses, and contacts tonight. And heavy make-up, and false eyelashes. I also remove the stud in my nose and all my earrings. I haven’t refreshed my fake tattoos since we’ve been here, and a good scrub with a flannel gets rid of the final traces. The only mark remaining on my skin is the one that Maxim gave me. And I would never want to be without that one. It still tingles every time I touch it, or even think about it.

This red hair looks too much without the dramatic eyes, so I pull it back into a simple chignon, and opt for a simple coat of mascara and a slick of lip-gloss.

There. Now I look like myself again.

I slather jasmine scented body lotion all over my arms and legs, then I pull on the dress. It’s body-con style and it fits me like a sheath, pushing my tits up and together, and hugging my ass.

At last, I emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. And my jaw drops.

Because Maxim is wearing a tux.

A freaking tux. There’s something about his wild masculinity being contained within this sharp, formal attire that’s just…wow.

A groan of need escapes my lips, my pussy already starting to ache.

“Emory,” Maxim breathes. “You look so, so beautiful.” He strides over to me and kisses me carefully on the lips.

“It’s okay, I’m only wearing lip-gloss.”

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