Chapter Forty-seven
Mikkel
“True love stories never have endings.”
~ Richard Bach
A s much as I wanted to stay a bit longer in San Francisco, work called.
But my mind wasn’t entirely on business—not yet.
As soon as we boarded the jet from San Francisco, I called Arnoldo, my voice tight with anger. I briefly filled him in on Abigail’s history with Joshua Milton and his father Joseph’s vile role in enabling it. Arnoldo didn’t need a second to read my tone.
“Find everything you can on them,” I told him. “I want every crack, every weak spot.”
By the time we were preparing to land, he’d delivered.
I’d wondered why his name sounded familiar—until Morison reminded me that Joseph Milton had sent a proposal months ago. At the time, we had filed it away, deeming it low priority.
Now it made sense. Milton was likely hoping Elite Rides’ expansion could rescue his failing business. His finances were in shambles; the family company had been hemorrhaging money for years. A string of poor investments and questionable decisions had left them clinging to what little they had left. This proposal wasn’t just business—it was a last-ditch effort to survive.
Perfect.
I rejected their bid before I even stepped off the jet. The email was short and to the point:
Joseph Milton’s proposal has been denied. Elite Rides will not engage in business with individuals of such reprehensible character.
But I didn’t stop there. I sent a detailed list of the Milton family’s misdeeds to every major player in the industry, then had my friends do the same. The companies they relied on for contracts, the suppliers they depended on, the investors they begged for funding—every one of them now had a reason to blacklist the Miltons.
I wasn’t just denying them business. I was erasing their legacy.
Arnoldo called again as the crew unpacked our luggage.
“It’s done,” he said, his tone steady. “The Milton company’s assets have been bought. Employees are being generously compensated, and some skilled workers will join Elite Rides. The building will be demolished in two to three weeks.”
“Thank you, Reyes.”
Arnoldo hesitated. “I must admit, you don’t usually do business this way, Suarez.”
“When dealing with vultures, you treat them as vultures,” I said. “You taught me that.”
He chuckled. “I’m proud. I’ll see you at the meeting later to finalize everything with the Miltons.”
Their empire was crumbling, and I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it. Abigail deserved peace, and I’d make sure those who hurt her couldn’t move forward—not while I had the power to stop them .
Once we were back, I made sure Abigail was home safe before heading to my meeting. My execs and legal team were already gathered in the conference room, waiting to discuss the acquisition proposal from Javier Cortez, CEO of Luxe Transports.
This wasn’t a merger. It was a buyout.
We reviewed the financials, client base, risks, and rewards. Luxe Transports had a solid customer base, but their fleet needed upgrades. There were always risks—hidden liabilities, merging cultures—but the opportunity to strengthen Elite Rides and accelerate growth was undeniable. The pros far outweigh the cons, and as such we were moving forward with the acquisition.
As the meeting wrapped up, Arnoldo reminded me, “The bigger the acquisition, the bigger the eyes on you. Everyone’s watching.” His words echoed in my mind—this wasn’t just a business decision; it was a statement.
Afterward, I had Morison schedule a meeting with Cortez to finalize the deal. Sitting at my desk, the pressure mounted, so I grabbed the stress ball and tossed it to release some tension. Feeling a little steadier, I returned to work, signing off on documents, catching up on missed files, and focusing on the next steps.
My phone buzzed with a message from the group chat.
Luci: ready to be uncles again?
Ro: HOLY SHIT! (I already knew)
Dill: Marina’s pregnant?
Luci: why else would I ask that question?
Dill : *eye roll emoji* congratulations!
Me: I’m happy for you, brother.
Luci: thank you, man.
Reyes: Congrats, Luci. Name the kid Arnoldo Jr.
Alex: thank God someone’s joining the dad club.
Alex: wishing you and Marina all the best, bro.
Luci: appreciate it, fratellos 162 .
Reyes: Drinks to celebrate?
Luci: I’m in Egypt.
Reyes: Egypt? What the fuck?
Luci: vacation days.
Dill: I should’ve retired that early too.
Luci: you should’ve. and yeah, Marina broke the news while we were in the middle of the desert.
The group chat exploded with arguments over who’d be the better uncle. Arnoldo claimed it was him, Dillon and Alex called it bullshit, and Ronan, as usual, declared himself the obvious choice. Lucio barely entertained them, definitely used to the chaos by now.
I smirked, leaning back and shaking my head. I was happy for Lucio—fatherhood was a big deal, and Marina would be an incredible mom. Once they got back from Egypt, I’d make sure to send them something meaningful.
Tuning out the chat, I refocused on work—finalizing the acquisition documents, reviewing logistics, and signing off on reports. I checked in with my team, ensuring smooth operations, then analyzed a fleet check report. Expansion meant nothing without a solid foundation.
I was just wrapping up when a familiar voice cut through the office.
“The only time I see you is in tabloids, Suarez.”
I looked up, already knowing who it was. “Ronan Romano. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I missed my best friend.”
I let out a laugh, rolling my eyes. “Love you too, sweet face.”
He poured himself a drink before sinking into the chair before me. “I’m in the area with a developer surveying some buildings.”
I raised a brow. “You’re buying a building?”
“Thinking about it.”
We went back and forth for a bit—him asking about my current projects, me prying into his real estate plans—until he finally headed out.
Not long after, I grabbed my keys, picked up dinner, and drove to Abigail’s.
She was curled up on the couch, completely absorbed in Anora , barely glancing up as I set the food down. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips. She hummed softly, her fingers brushing my jaw for a fleeting second before turning back to the screen.
We settled into a comfortable silence. I stretched out, resting my head between her thighs as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through my hair. Nothing in the world felt better than this—the drag of her nails against my scalp, the way her touch soothed something deep inside me. Every so often, her hand drifted to my face, fingertips brushing over my lips. I kissed them each time, and even without seeing her face, I knew she was smiling. I felt it in the way her body jerked slightly, and in the quiet happiness radiating off her.
For a while, there was nothing else. No meetings, no acquisitions, no weight of expectations. Just her, just us.
Then she shifted beneath me, sitting up with a sigh.
I groaned, tightening my hold around her waist. “Stay.”
“I know,” she said softly, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “But I need to take my hair down. I’ve had them in for too long.”
I eased up, watching her carefully. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah, just a slight headache.”
I sat up straighter. “Show me what to do, and I’ll help. ”
She stared at me, blinking, like she hadn’t heard me right.
“I’m serious.”
She exhaled a small laugh. “Alright then.”
With an online tutorial playing in the background, we got to work on removing her boho locs. It was more challenging than I expected, but I stuck with it, carefully unraveling each one. At first, Abigail coached me through the process, her voice soft but steady. Eventually, though, she grew quiet, her head dipping forward.
When I glanced down, I realized she’d fallen asleep in my lap.
Her breathing was slow and even, exhaustion and her lingering headache finally catching up to her. I kept going, mindful not to tug too hard, working through each section with patience. When the last loc was gone, I reached for a wide-tooth comb and gently began detangling her curls.
I moved through her hair with slow, deliberate strokes, savoring the way each coil softened under my touch. The only sound in the room was the rhythm of her steady breaths. When I finished, I ran my fingers through her hair one last time, letting them linger before leaning back, content just to be here with her.
My gaze lingered on her peaceful face—beautiful, mine. I pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “Rest, mi amor . 163 ”