Page 154 of Savage Surrender

His fingers leave the cuff link.

“She has her own fortune.”

The answer is too clean. I wait.

Weller looks past me toward the kitchen, where Megan has apparently escalated to threatening the cobbler with chili oil. “She hasn’t contacted me, and I don’t expect that to change. The people who raised me were paid by my father. My mother preferred me once I could attend a dinner without interrupting it.”

He doesn’t sound angry. That would be easier. Sometimes I wish I could get inside his head, but mine is scary enough.

“Come upstairs.”

His eyebrows rise. “Your family will be here shortly.”

“I’m not trying to seduce you.”

“I’m disappointed.”

The dry answer almost works. Then he looks down at the leather folder in my hands, and I take his wrist before he can reach for the cuff again.

“Upstairs, Wells.”

I lead him into the office. A stack of legal files sits on top of my bow case, which may be the most accurate possible summary of my life now.

Weller closes the door but doesn’t lock it. I put the folder on the desk and reach for his cuffs.

“I can do that.”

“As you’ve demonstrated. Hold still.”

The first link comes free. A tremor moves through his fingers, small enough that I might miss it if I hadn’t spent years watching for every crack in him and pretending I wasn’t.

He watches my thumb pass over his knuckles.

“You don’t have to explain it,” I say.

He looks down at our joined hands. “I should be able to.”

“Why?”

“Because I spent four hours explaining to strangers why every clause matters.”

“They were being paid to listen. I do this for free.”

I free the second cuff link and work the knot of Weller’s tie loose. The silk slides beneath my fingers, dark green and perfectly smooth. When I pull it from his collar, he catches my wrist.

“It won’t be enough,” he says. “For what he did to her.”

“It can’t be enough for Juliette,” I say. “But someone else will get a chance because you did this.”

“A lot of people,” I add. “With that many zeroes.”

I drape his tie over the back of the desk chair. His gaze goes back to the folder.

So I put both hands against his chest and lean into him.

For a second, his hands stay at his sides. Then his arms come around me carefully and tighten until my cheek presses against the open collar of his shirt. He smells like teakwood and me, and I really, really like that.

“Bianca!” Megan yells from downstairs. “It’s time for our pee-on-a-stick party. Hurry up or I’ll pee on all of them!”