Page 180 of Only for Him
I might actually fucking win this game.
When I step back inside, Dakota’s still at the terminal. Giselle’s moved behind her, their dark hair nearly touching. The sight of it hits me like a punch to the chest—something fragile and devastating and mine.
“It’s done,” Dakota says, hitting a final key. “The wire’s set. It says we need a living signature, in person, at the Zurich office.”
“We can do that,” Teddy says.
“How?” Arata asks, wary.
Teddy gives a toothy grin. “We kidnap a banker and force him to sign. Old school.”
Arata blanches, but he doesn’t run screaming from the room, which is good.
Dakota logs out, and slumps in the chair. Her face is blank, but the sweat on her neck says everything. Giselle puts a hand on her shoulder. Dakota doesn’t flinch, just sits there, breathing, letting the contact steady her.
Teddy gives her a long look. “If you want out, say so. We can make it happen.”
“I don’t want out,” Dakota says. “Not until I know he’s dead.”
Teddy nods, looking impressed. I know the feeling. Dakota might be stronger than either of us.
Teddy, Arata, and Dakota go for ice we don’t need and vending machine snacks we do, all three needing to walk off the adrenaline.
I don’t need anything but the woman left in the room with me.
I move towards her. She turns to face me, searching my eyes for something I’m not sure I can give—but I will sure as fuck die trying. Happily.
“It’s almost over, little viper,” I say. I’ve fantasized about killing Pavel so many times, but I’ve never really wondered how I’ll feel after. There was a time when I might have felt empty, my life’s work and purpose finished.
Not anymore. Not with her.
She looks out the window, watching the wind tug at the trees outside. Her voice is flat when she says, “He’s going to kill you.”
“Not if I can help it.” I lean against the frame beside her, brush a lock of hair from her cheek and watch a shudder roll through her from my touch.
“I don’t want you dead.” She looks at my reflection in the glass, touches those earrings. Will she still do that, when the man behind her sister’s murder is finally buried? And me—will she still need me?
“Could’ve fooled me,” I say, dramatically rolling my bandaged shoulder.
She shoves me, gentle, but I let it move me. “Don’t be an asshole.”
If that’s what my little viper wants, it’s what she’ll get.
“I don’t want to die,” I say. “Not anymore.”
She turns to face me, eyes wet but fierce. “Then don’t.”
I want to tell her that I’ll crawl out of any grave they put me in, just to be with her again.
Instead, I grab her hair, gently tugging her face upwards. My other hand lingers on the curve of her jaw, fingers vibrating with the pulse at her throat. She blinks up at me, so willing to give me everything.
Practically begging for me to take it.
And I will.
I have to live, because if I don’t, everything glorious, singular, and sacred about Giselle will go to waste.
I watch her. Every line of her face, every curve of her body.
