Page 111 of Taking Denver

She walks away, and I stay fixed in place.

A happy Deedee. What does that even look like?

I picture beaches, waves, a café… a child. A family of my own. A husband who loves and protects me, just as I would him.

A fantasy.

My cheeks ache as I force myself to smile and head into the ballroom. Guests congratulate me and fawn over my dress, my hair, my engagement, and my wedding ring. The hall is filled with business associates, politicians, celebrities, and press from one media outlet that Ranger deems worthy enough to cover our day.

I spot Ranger half-surrounded by men, his brow furrowed, not in concentration but in boredom. He catches my eye, and I take a deep breath to calm the butterflies.

Am I angry at him? Yes. I’m furious. He’d encouraged me to kill my husband while knowing he was innocent—not loyal, but not trying to kill me. Ranger had gone to extreme lengths to give me ample reason to want Wyatt dead, and though I’m unsurprised his obsession had reached such extremes, it still hurts.

But below the betrayal is love that took root six years ago. A desperate need for him, without reason or sense, and one day, it might kill me, maybe kill us both, but for now, I need to accept it. If I struggle against his love any longer, it might only kill me sooner.

I might not be a happy Deedee, but hadn’t Ranger said that happiness is fragments?

Maybe being happy isn’t what I need.

Maybe being powerful makes more sense.

Ranger keeps his gaze on mine. He strides across the dancefloor, ignoring several people who try to grab his attention, keeping his eyes fixed solely on me. His tuxedo hugs the strong, powerful lines of his body, his tall frame even more glorious in an expensively tailored suit.

He pauses before me, towering strength and intoxicating cologne.

“Dance with me,” he says.

My smile is small as I tilt my head in intrigue. “You dance?”

“With you, yes.” He reaches out his hand, palm up, and still never breaks eye contact. “Dance with me, Mrs. Luxe.”

So, I do.

We’d never agreed on a first dance. Ranger had looked at the wedding planner with intense loathing when she’d suggested it, and I hadn’t argued. After the disaster of my first marriage, I wasn’t overly concerned with tradition.

But when Ranger pulls me close, his arm protective around my waist, his other hand in mine, I’m glad I’m not missing out.

Camera lights flash, people look on, and we dance as if we planned for this moment. A slow, almost haunting song combined with the heat of Ranger’s eyes has my body feeling close to liquid. He spins me, my hair lifting as I twirl, and pulls me close again. Tears prick my eyes, and I wish my dad was here. He’d never want this, not in a million years, but he would have found a way to be happy for me.

“I’m sorry,” Ranger whispers in my ear. Words I’ve never heard from him. Words I’d doubted were in his vocabulary, but he says them anyway. He pulls me closer, and I close my eyes. “I’m not sorry Wyatt’s dead, but I’m sorry I put the gun in your hand.”

I can’t cry in front of guests and cameras, but fighting it takes all my strength, and I have none left to respond.

He kisses my ear. “I won’t ask that of you again. I won’t lie to you. I won’t manipulate.” He exhales softly. “I was desperate at the thought of losing you. Terrified of Wyatt hurting you so much that in the end you’d be broken. He needed to die, Denver, even if I hate how I went about it.” He kisses my temple. “I love you. I won’t fuck this up.”

The words curl around my heart and settle there, a tattoo of promises I hope he’ll keep. I need everything he’s said to be true because, without those words, we’re doomed. Doomed to lie, to hate, to argue, to start our lives together in darkness with the only road ahead leading deeper into the abyss. His words are light. Hope.

I rest my ear against his chest. “You could have said that in your vows.”

His laugh is soft. “Consider this my second round of vows, then.” He releases my hand and lifts my chin to lock eyes with me. “I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do, Denver, but I don’t want you to deny yourself it, either.”

My breath feels cold. “What do you mean?”

“Whether you like it or not, Wyatt and Hayes were only the beginning.” He runs his thumb across my jaw, his gaze following the movement. “You’ll kill again when the time is right.”

My heart thuds, and I whisper, “I won’t.”

“You will, little bird. This life requires it, and I know you’re strong enough to handle it. But know that when it happens, I’m here to protect you. Always.”

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