Page 67 of Cruel Redemption

“I’ve got something else.”

I frowned. “What else could there be? This night has been perfect. Look at this party.”

He leaned toward my ear. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, I do.”

I didn’t trust anyone the way I trusted this man. He adored me. Loved me. And he would protect me above all else. For six months we had worked tirelessly to create one organization, the Noctem Global organization. Sometimes I thought it was the work that saved us when the grief was the thickest. Others, I knew it was how we could look up from our screens and that one look. That one glance told us everything we needed to know about each other. All the colors of our love. All the pain and the joy that loving each other created. It was all in one look.

“Good. Since you trust me, then don’t say anything when I do this...”

“What are you?—”

Luka started to lead me off the dance floor, out of the side door. His sports car was parked at the exit. He opened the passenger side and shuttled me in. I felt as if we were Bonnie and Clyde rushing off with a bag a cash.

“Remember, you said you wouldn’t say anything.”

I nodded, biting my tongue as we drove away from our party and our guests. I could still hear the music until he pulled into the downtown streets. It wasn’t long before I knew where Luka was taking me. I couldn’t believe it.

He parked in front of Marguerite’s. It looked empty or closed. Then I saw the curtains rustle in the window.

I didn’t say a word as he jogged around the side of the car and helped me find my balance in my heels on the cobblestone.

“This way.”

Marguerite greeted us at the door. “I was worried you weren’t coming.” She looked at Luka.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He dotted kissed on each of her cheeks.

She laughed. “For you, I’m okay waiting all night.”

I laughed. Such the charmer.

“My dear, you look exquisite.”

“Thank you, Marguerite.” We hugged briefly.

“Your table and your champagne are waiting.”

I peered at Luka. He still hadn’t let on to what this was about. I didn’t want to argue that we had plenty of good French champagne at the Crescent Towers. Instead, I followed him to the table. Our table. The first place we ever sat down together.

“There’s no one else here,” I whispered.

“No. That’s the plan. I rented it out for the night.”

I glanced at Marguerite. She had turned off the light at the piano and locked the door. She walked behind the bar and pressed play on a speaker.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Do you remember that first night we met?” he tested.

“Yes. Very well.” I smiled. “You scared me to death in the pool house.”

He chuckled. “Well, yes, that was first. But do you remember coming here?”

I nodded. “Every single second of it.”

“Then you remember we danced to this song?”

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