Page 47 of Salacious Devotion

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This can’t go on. It’s madness.

I’m standing in front of the wall of windows in Dane’s living room, looking out at the city lights below. It’s two in the morning. This happens nearly every night. I can’t sleep and then I pace.

Dane will find me in a few minutes. He always does. No matter how quiet I try to be as I sneak out of bed to wander around the dark penthouse, he realizes I’m missing within minutes because the man is in tune with me in a way most humans never experience.

To think I could have gone my entire life without getting to see him again and rekindle the love neither of us had confessed three years ago makes me want to cry. I still can’t believe I happened to walk into a club Dane belongs to, clear across the country from where I last saw him, on a night he happened to be there.

I’m not a spiritual person, but I’m starting to trust that the stars were aligned for us that night.

Our chemistry is off the chart. We can’t get enough of each other. We were pretty hot and heavy in bed three years ago, but it was nothing like this. It goes to show that when two people are faced with the fragility of life and given a second chance, it changes them somehow.

We have a new outlook on life that involves seizing the day. And the night.

The problem is we’re still living in limbo. Dane spends nearly every waking moment tracking down Tombeck—well, all the moments he’s not making love to me. Two of his most important employees are also dedicating every second to this case. They’re losing money by not taking paying customers.

I’m not even sure I want him to find Tombeck. The prospect still scares me to death. I don’t like the idea that Dane could be killed or arrested for confronting Tombeck.

We don’t talk about it because we don’t agree on this topic. But the truth is I’m fucking stressed about it. I wish he would just drop it. I’ll gladly stay in this penthouse for the rest of my life if it means he’ll stop trying to get himself killed.

I lean my forehead against the window and watch the lights below. Even at this hour, cars are on the streets and a few people on the sidewalk. If I have to spend months or even years trapped up here, at least I don’t feel like I’m going to suffocate in this penthouse. It’s huge, and there are so many windows looking out to the world that I’m not claustrophobic.

“Paige?”

I smile as I shove off the glass and turn around. I’m not surprised. “I’m right here,” I tell him. I never turn the lights on when I wander, but there’s enough illumination for him to easily find me.

He wraps his arms around me from behind and rocks me against him. He kisses my neck. “I hate that you can’t sleep.”

I shrug. “I’m just glad you’re next to me every time I wake up.”

“Me, too. I always panic when you’re no longer there, but the pillow smells like you, so I feel confident it’s not an illusion and I will find you somewhere in the penthouse.”

“Hey, you said you had a box of my things from my old apartment. Can I see it sometime?”

“Of course. You want to do that now?”

I tip my head back. “It’s the middle of the night, Dane. Do you mind?”

“Not at all, baby. I don’t give a fuck what time it is. I’ll never care what time it is again in my life as long as you’re next to me.” He releases me to take my hand and leads me back into the master bedroom.

I watch as he opens the closet and reaches up to pull down a large box from the top shelf. He carries it over to the bed and sets it in the middle of the mess of sheets.

I’m trembling as I climb onto the bed with him and kneel in front of the box as he removes the tape. I have no idea what might be inside, but I’m anxious to see.

Dane lowers to his side, props up on one elbow, rests his cheek on his palm, and watches me.

I take a deep breath and reach into the box. The first item I pull out is a photo album I made not long before my death. I knew this would be hard to face, but I’m overwhelmed with emotions as I open the album and start flipping through the pages.

I never thought I would see these again. The thought of them in the dumpster made me cry buckets over the years. And here they are. Dane saved them. He rescued his dead girlfriend’s things and saved them.

Wiping away my tears, I pull out a sweatshirt next. It’s one of his. I had confiscated it early in our relationship and never returned it. I choke up.

When I glance at Dane, he’s swiping at tears, too.

I pull the sweatshirt over my head and lift the front of it to inhale the way I always used to. It doesn’t smell like him this time, though. It’s been in that box for too long. I’ll make him wear it tomorrow.

There are framed photographs of the two of us that had been on the walls and bookshelves. My most beloved books. My favorite jewelry. My mother’s wedding ring.

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