Page 93 of Embrace Me Forever

I draw Georgia-May close, and our mouths meet in a kiss charged with the raw intensity of survival and the relief of victory.

“Baby, are you hurt?” I ask urgently.

Brushing off my hand from her bleeding forehead, she responds, “I’m okay, but you’re not!”

Horror widens her eyes as she examines me. She tears her sleeve to craft a bandage for me. As she does, she winces with each shift, a grimace fleeting across her features as she tries to mask her discomfort.

“Tell me if you’re hurt,” I insist, needing to understand her condition.

After a pause and a heavy sigh, she confesses, “He punched me earlier when I resisted.”

At her foot, a piece of metal catches the sporadic flicker of the flashlight. Brass knuckles. My eyes flare in disbelief. Her captor had attacked her with those? Clearly, Georgia-May had managed to seize them and use his own cruel weapon against him, turning the tide with a dose of his vicious tactics.

“I’m fine, probably just a few bruises,” she assures me. She turns and shines the light on the lifeless body of her captor. “His name was Hark—probably a nickname. He was the hooded man tracking us. Bertram’s son, or so he claimed. I’m convinced he was an illegitimate attempt to carry on the Bertram name.”

Shaking my head, I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close until she rests against me. I don’t care who he was. All that matters is her safety.

How my life has changed. I am far removed from the man who once stood in front of a ruthless investor, taking a bullet for him in a place where I didn’t even belong. I was ready for my life to end, as if my blood meant nothing—colorless like my world. But now, feeling her breath against my chest, I realize how desperately I want to live. She’s the essence of my existence. The color of my blood is her. She is a part of me, inseparable and irreplaceable.

A ruckus erupts above ground, undoubtedly the reinforcements the hooded man mentioned. But among thechaos, I catch a familiar voice—my boss, my sidekick for the night, and my brother, Clayton—alongside the authoritative shout of ‘LAPD!’

“Where’s Bertram?” I ask, turning to Georgia-May in the hope of a clue.

“He’s not here,” she responds.

“They’ve destroyed all the equipment,” I add grimly. “No doubt, he’ll deny any involvement.”

Georgia-May’s expression turns steely, her voice a low murmur of resolve. “It may not matter. We’ll get him another way.”

Right now, as the reality of our ordeal sinks in, my focus shifts. I’m not concerned with what comes next. For the first time in what feels like forever, all I want is to embrace her. Here, at this moment, nothing else matters but the two of us together.

37

GEORGIA-MAY

As expected, Abner Bertram vehemently denied any involvement in my abduction and the attack on Blake and Coco. However, the groundwork we had laid prior to my capture, aimed at exposing his illicit activities, quickly bore fruit. It wasn’t long before the international courts empowered the authorities to commence a formal investigation.

The breakthrough came shortly thereafter. Despite Bertram’s minions having obliterated physical evidence at Maravino Point, where I was held, they overlooked one critical mistake—Bertram’s live appearance on screen. His visage, that disdainful sneer as he coerced me to work, became a pivotal piece of evidence. In a final sweep, law enforcement discovered a discreet satellite connector hidden atop a stack of empty containers at the dock. It’s pretty advanced stuff, using a ground-penetrating Wi-Fi signal. Once analyzed, this device directly links back to one of Bertram’s opulent residences in London.

With the mounting evidence, Bertram’s empire began to crumble, halting all operations. Meanwhile, the Greek Prince, Clayton’s infamous BFF—basketball friend forever—has beenpulling strings behind the scenes to form a consortium of insurance companies. These firms are now banding together to assist Bertram’s clientele. This collective effort is setting the stage for a support system to mitigate the fallout from Bertram’s demise.

Our bodyguard, Lowe, is still recuperating from stab wounds, though doctors are optimistic about a full recovery. He was ambushed from behind by Hark, disguised as an orderly innocently coming out of the men’s room. It’s astonishing how a simple disguise in a place as unassuming as a hospital can deceive even seasoned professionals.

While I got away with a bruised rib, thanks to Hark’s brass knuckles, Blake’s injury on his shoulder required two surgeries. Today, he’s finally being discharged. I choose to wear the blue dress I never got to buy that day, thanks to Cristo’s unexpected visit. Around my neck, the gold chain with the infinity pendant dangles, a token I thought was lost forever in the chaos of that dark basement with Hark.

“Here comes my stylish chauffeur,” Blake grins with a wink as he greets me. “You look stunning, sweetheart.”

“Daddy!” Coco exclaims, scrambling up to reach him. She’s finally mastered his name, though to be honest, Blake never really minded when she called him ‘Black.’ But these days, Coco always calls him daddy, which sends him over the moon.

Blake insists on lifting Coco, even though his left shoulder remains snugly bound in a heavy bandage.

“Hurt?” Coco’s small finger points at the bandage. She’s stringing together short sentences now, though she sometimes falls back on simpler, familiar phrases.

“A bit, sweetie, but I’m fine,” Blake reassures her, masking the discomfort with a smile.

As I steer the car through the quiet streets toward our home, a serene calm fills the space between us. However, my mindbuzzes quietly with a singular resolve. To make Blake’s recovery as smooth and pampering as it can be.

After arriving home, I quickly gather the mail scattered in our mailbox. Among the assorted envelopes, one letter catches my eye. It’s the color, the texture. It takes me back to the days of faking my contract with Obsidian Moon Interactive, a deceit that once prompted a letter from a ‘Christian Cartwright.’ I slip it into my bag discreetly, deciding to deal with it later. Right now, Blake needs me.

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