Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Marie
It took us a long time to summon the energy to get dressed.
And even longer before I managed to focus enough to grab my bag and pull out the files.
We sit, side by side, and I tap at the one in front of him.
“When were you going to tell me that you owned the building we both live in?”
He glances at me then right back at the page I printed out.
But I don’t miss his sheepish smile.
I certainly hear the chagrin in his words, though, when he says, “It didn’t matter.”
My eyebrows flick up. “And all those times you conveniently ran into me were just coincidence?” I ask dryly.
He pulls the folder closer, as though he’s studiously absorbing every word.
I clear my throat. “Well?”
“Well what?”
How can a man who brought me so much pleasure, also drive me so insane? “Were those times you ran into me coincidences?”
“If I say yes, will you believe me?”
“No.” I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling, and I don’t fight him when he disturbs the papers by pulling me into his lap. It feels so good that I let him, ignoring his huff of laughter, and settling on his chest.
“I was determined not to like you, you know,” I murmur long moments later.
“Yup.” I still in surprise. “Hence needing those coincidences.”
I giggle. “You’re incorrigible.”
“You’ve called me worse things and I’ve liked those too.”
I giggle again, but before I can go back to the papers I brought, he asks, “How’d you find out about the building, anyway?”
“About you owning it?”
He smooths back my hair. “Yeah, gorgeous,” he says. “It’s in a trust and usually that creates enough distance between my properties and myself.”
A flicker of pride sliding through me. “I’m good at what I do.”
“Yeah, you are.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll have to tell my lawyers to be trickier to keep you on your toes.”
“That won’t stop me, muahaha.”
He chuckles, draws me closer. “I’m sure it won’t.”
I want to just hang here, cuddled against him, and not think about Angela or the FBI or corporate sabotage. But this is important, and he needs to know.
“I found the trust because the same realtor who sold Angela a house, also sold properties to your trust, Duarte Enterprises, and one of your head scientists on the blood clot research project.”
I feel his body tense. “What?”
“I have his name here.” I pass him the file.
“Dammit,” he curses softly as he reads through the papers. “I really liked him.”
“I don’t know for sure if he’s sabotaging anything or involved with the issues with your patent, but it’s suspect.”
“It is,” he agrees.
“I’ll give FBI the information, make sure they loop you in on next steps because acting too quickly on this might tip him off and spook him.”
“You’re right,” he says. “And Duarte?”
“Duarte is a security company. They have government contracts, and one of their subsidiaries runs private security for?—”
“Companies like mine,” he murmurs. “That’s why you went still before when I mentioned their name.”
“Yes.”
He sighs. “Their services are a nightmare, though. They’ve been nothing but trouble from the moment we signed the contract. You got a taste of that tonight with the unlocked doors and unmanned desks.”
A flicker of worry slides through me. “They’re not providing the contracted services.”
“No,” he agrees. “Or not to the capacity they should be doing. Legal is working on getting us out of the contract, but they’re shifty, and though we’re working on bringing in a new company in the meantime, this shit has gotten very complicated with about a hundred hoops to jump through.”
“I know.”
His brows shoot up. “You know?”
“They do security for Titan Capital too,” I tell him, snagging a paper and passing it over to him. “And we’ve had some of the same problems—or had before Jean-Michel chewed out the owner, made suitable threats, and they finally got their shit together.”
“I guess I need to work on my scary face.”
I chuckle even though nothing about this is amusing. “Maybe. He’s also brought in another firm to backfill and keep an eye on the Duarte guys.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“It’s still a tangle,” I say, barely resisting the urge to scrub my hands over my face. “And expensive. But between the real estate connections and the security contracts I think this is big enough of a connection to pass on to my contact at the FBI.”
“Agent Phillips?”
“She gets around, huh?” I say dryly.
“Apparently.” His mouth quirks. “I met her the first time the other day—she seems whip smart and fully capable.”
“Make sure you call her Attie next time you see her,” I slide in, feeling slightly jealous. Whip smart? Capable?
Then I mentally smack myself.
It’s not like he’s saying she’s gorgeous…which, of course, she is.
“She like that?” he asks, eyes twinkling.
“It’s her favorite.”
He taps me on the tip of my nose. “Always mischief-making.” Then he leans close, nuzzles my throat. “Always beautiful.”
And I melt.
Especially, when he says, “I knew you’d solve it.”
“What?”
“I knew you’d put the pieces together far faster than I could.”
“They’re not fully together yet and anyway, you would have?—”
“No, I wouldn’t.” A kiss to my jaw. “Now, any other revelations?”
“Not at this moment.”
A grin. “Good.”
We sit there for a moment, cuddled up and content. Then he smooths my curls back and gently sets me to the side, gathering up the papers and tucking them into my bag. Then he stands and extends a hand.
“Let’s get out of here.”
A tug brings me to my feet.
“Your place or mine?” I ask.
He smiles, and I know that I’ll remember it forever.
Same as his next words sew themselves into my soul.
“It doesn’t matter, cookie. Because wherever you are feels like home.”