Page 23

“I still can’t believe you let West talk you into working for him,” Autumn says as she unlocks the car door. “You’ve hated the idea of being told what to do ever since I can remember.”

“I still do,” I mutter. Especially by him.

She shoots me a look, one brow raised. “So what changed?”

I force myself to put on a cheery smile. “Let’s just say he caught me at a vulnerable moment.”

And isn’t that an understatement.

I throw my backpack into the trunk and climb into the passenger seat, swallowing hard as she starts the engine up. And as we pull away from her parking spot on Main Street, I give myself a talking to.

I might be home, but I’m not the girl I used to be. Afraid, alone, so full of guilt she couldn’t look her family in the eye. I’m a grown woman. I have guts, I have a degree.

I also have a secret husband. And he’s on his way to the island right now.

eight

WEST

We’ve been in the air for over four hours, and I’ve spent most of it going through emails, typing out instructions to my assistant, and checking Eden’s travel arrangements, to make sure she got in safely.

I’m still irked that she wanted to take a train. But her reasoning made sense, so I didn’t argue. Not too much.

Funny, how before either of us said ‘I do,’ we’d never clashed. Now she seems constantly annoyed with me. And to be honest, I enjoy riling her up. I like the way she looks when she scowls. Which luckily for me, is all the damn time.

This is why people should live together before they get married. Or at least sleep together. An image of her on my bed in Vegas flashes into my mind. That dress, bunched up to her thighs. Her face down on the pillow.

Any red blooded man would have woken her up and shown her just how beautiful she looked.

As for me, I sat there and schemed.

I close the file on my tablet and swipe over to the North House security feed, installed by Asher because nobody doessecurity like him. There are six camera angles. Five show nothing but gleaming hardwood floors and untouched surfaces. But there’s movement in the sixth.

Eden arrived on Liberty an hour ago. I know, because Parker was messaging me and told me Autumn had gone to pick her up from the ferry. I also know because I planted a tracker in her backpack.

I wonder what she’s doing. What she’s thinking.

I wonder that way too often for my own good. Or my blood pressure’s good.

On my laptop screen, Autumn’s SUV pulls into the driveway. She comes to a stop, and for a second there’s no movement. Like they’re sitting talking.

But then, Eden steps out of the sleek car, grabs her beat-up backpack from the trunk, and lifts a hand to say goodbye to Autumn. She stomps up to the front door, like she’s planning on taking her annoyance out on the lock, and her wild hair lifts in the breeze, revealing the smooth curve of her neck. The elegance of it is a complete contrast to the cut off jeans and combat boot combo she’s wearing.

I guess the long trip hasn’t tamed her.

I exhale slowly and set the tablet down on the polished walnut table in front of me, still watching her. The interior of the jet is quiet. Cream leather seats. Dark walnut accents. A crystal tumbler of Scotch untouched beside my elbow. I could be anywhere. But my thoughts are concentrated on Liberty Island right now.

And the tornado that’s walking into my house.

She keys in the number I gave her to the front pad, and walks into the house like she owns the place.

Which she kind of does. As my wife, she technically has access to every room in that house. Right until I get the finalpayment from the bank and can repay Vin his money, this is hers.

Which is why I shouldn’t be surprised when, thirty seconds after she drops her battered rucksack on the floor and kicks off her boots, she starts to stomp down the hallway.

“What are you doing?” I murmur, watching her pause at my office door. I’m somewhere between amused and annoyed. I’m not used to sharing my spaces – I was a particularly defensive only child growing up – so watching somebody wandering around my space feels like a whole new level of intrusion.

She tries the handle. Locked. I smirk. Of course it’s fucking locked. Double, actually. There’s no way she’s getting anywhere near my office without me there.