Chapter 26
Proposing wasn’t supposed to happen like that.
I’d wanted it to happen on a rooftop somewhere, in fact, we’d talked about it before—a drunk night on bottles of champagne.
We’d spoken about how he wanted people around to congratulate him, and free dessert.
He’d always go on about free dessert, pretend it was his birthday constantly for those sparkle candles that made me feel like I was on a building site with welders.
We didn’t have much to pack. He didn’t arrive with much, and I never left much here.
Mercy handed up two individual boxes before we left.
They had new cell phones, which I knew they had bugged, so they were nice for scrap, and each one with passports, fake IDs, papers for off-shore banks, and debit cards to local banks.
Included in one of them, was the deed to a house in Maine.
It was off the beaten track, a cabin with acres of land around it.
It wasn’t Vermont, but it was out there.
Finally, my car, it was a nice SUV. I hadn’t been in it for a while, and again, probably bugged by Sanctum to know my every movement.
I didn’t care, but I hated being followed and traced.
At the port gate, surrounded by other agents arriving and leaving. Our fairies stood behind Mercy. Jinksy and Finley. We’d see them again soon enough, I was sure of that, this was a temporary leave of absence, a honeymoon before the wedding, as Mercy put it.
“Invite me to the wedding,” Mercy said. “I don’t care where you’re at. I want to be there. And we’ll give this a year.” She nodded and smiled at us. Art wasn’t paying any attention at all, looking through the boxes with excitement. Mostly analyzing the area of land we now owned in Maine.
“We’ll make sure to invite you,” Donovan said. “I fear he’s going to be a bridezilla about the whole thing.”
She laughed. “Marzia was too. And since the two of you are together, I hope it grounds you both. I don’t want reports of any reckless behavior, Don.
And no vigilante shit from him.” Art was out of it, the conversation didn’t apply to him since he was looking at all the paper with money amounts on them.
“And no paper trail,” she said. “Get that shit locked away, memorized, and if possible, leave no hard copies.”
“I know protocol,” I told her. “I have one question though. What’s going to happen?”
Jinksy stepped forward, the sweet gentle giant that he was.
“I’ve looked into the family, and there’s actually a lot of chatter on the internet,” he said.
“There’s probably going to be a lot of infighting in the family, and then they’ll look outside to see the people who could’ve been of what happened. ”
Finley also stepped forward. “They’ll have to sell off assets,” he said. “But they can’t. They’re effectively going to become homeless.”
“That’s because Sanctum now owns it all,” Mercy said. “That drive has all the deeds, and locations of deeds, alongside vault numbers and access codes. There’s a reason he was on my intel list, we couldn’t kill him without knowing where he’d squirreled away assets.”
“Jeez,” Art let out, rejoining us. “I think it’s what they deserve, for profiting so long on human suffer. The entire family is complicit in it.”
“It’s not just the Blackwell family,” she said.
“They’re a singular domino in a much larger chain reaction.
You’ve knocked a small one, but sooner or later, a large one will fall, and the world will feel it.
” She said all of this with a huge smile on her face.
“More work for us. So, in the year you’re both away, I need you to keep training, and if you’re ever in need of Sanctum, those phones are programmed with a direct line.
Instructions are in the boxes. It’s hard coded. ”
“They’ll reach us,” Finley said.
“But only call if you’re in need,” Jinksy said. “Not just for a chat, which would be nice.”
“We’ll send postcards,” Artemis said with a giggle. “I think we’re going to travel.”
“We are?” I asked. My mind was to lay low in Maine, but whatever Art wanted, I suppose he was going to get.
“Yeah, we’d be silly not to travel with all this money,” he snorted. “We’re definitely flying first class.”
Mercy let out a slight squeak. “The private jet is still ready. We can get you anywhere. I assumed after handing over the Maine deed, you’d head there.”
Artemis’s eye grew with the recollection of the private jet on offer. “Fuck yeah,” he laughed. “Let’s take the jet. Oh god. Do we need to decide where we’re going now?”
Glancing to her watch, Mercy nodded. “Before you get to the tarmac, the pilot has to file a flight plan. So, make it quick.”
I looked to him. “Your call,” I said, handing him the reins. But I knew the answer. We were going in the jet.
“I’ll have someone drive you to the airport then, leave your car in long-term parking,” she said. “But don’t come back here until the year is out. Or two, depending on the fall out. They might come for blood.”
Artemis smirked—not sure if it was aimed at her comment, or the fact we were about to be taken on a flight to any destination we wanted.
I’d never rested, so this was going to be new for me.
Artemis would make sure I didn’t get any actual rest though—and there was the marriage, we’d be kept busy, especially with the money he would soon learn wouldn’t stretch as far as his imagination did.
The world was expensive when you wanted to live like a millionaire.
* * *
Rio, Brazil. A one-way flight.
It was an eventful flight—between Artemis squealing about all the money, to fucking and joining the mile high club. We really managed to get a whole lot done. He was full of awe, and full of me.
Artemis decided on it. Everyone was always saying come to Brazil online, and so it’s where we went. Right into it. We landed and was taken to a large mansion in the hills. All glass architecture. It was one of Sanctum’s properties, somewhere we could stay for a moment while we gathered ourselves.
A guarded area where everyone was helpful and nice. The house came with a cook and a cleaner. Two Brazilian women who spoke very little English, but made some of the most amazing food.
Dinner was prepared for us with rice, meat, veggies, and bread. There was a candle on the table, and I felt even more in love with Artemis in that moment, watching him devour the plate of food, and the complimentary red wine, which—as a somewhat drunken connoisseur of wine, I knew it was good.
“Wish we could stay here forever,” I told him. “I bet Mercy is already running up our tab for when we get back.”
“I can’t believe I’m out,” he whispered, finishing his glass of red wine and refilling it to the top. “This tastes like juice.”
“You’re not out out,” I told him.
The cook, Manuela, came out in her chef whites, asking if it was good, using a thumbs up gesture and getting one back in return. I wondered if she was on standby, or if she had another job outside of this. “Dessert,” she said, nodding. “Now?”
“Please,” Artemis said. “I’d love dessert.”
“Ok, ok,” she said, leaving the large table with a smile.
She must’ve been used to catering for large amounts of people coming in from Sanctum having their little retreats. I knew there were active agents all around the world, some of them were even considered rogues from not checking in for longer than a year. Soon, that would be me and Art.
“I’m not sure how I can manage much more,” I told him.
“I searched online, and the desserts look so good,” he said, accidentally kicking the table in excitement.
“I think we can travel a little in Brazil, head down to Argentina, then fly out somewhere—maybe we can head to Europe. There’s direct flights to Spain.
We could eat paella and go to the beach. ”
“Then visit Switzerland,” I chuckled. “Clear out that Swiss bank account.”
He giggle-snorted, his face all red from the amount of wine he’d consumed. He was becoming red wine.
Manuela brought the dessert out on a large silver tray.
It was a collection. She pointed to them, telling us the names.
“Brigadeiro.” Chocolate balls covered in sprinkles.
“Pudim de Leite Condensado.” To these jiggly flans on small saucers.
And the last one, brightly colors circular desserts with a hole in the middle.
“Quindim.” I glanced at Artemis with the look of the third one.
I didn’t want him getting any ideas about putting my dick through that one—but I guess I wouldn’t say no to him.
She placed them between us and quietly cleaned away our plates while setting clean ones in front of us. I barely noticed her around us, which was an awful confession to make for someone who was known to being switched on at all times.
All those thoughts disappeared with the first dessert. The truffle chocolate, decadent, delicious, melting on the tongue. We both moaned as we ate them, almost like we weren’t scared to make as much sound as we wanted in here.
“Or we could stay here forever,” he giggled.
“One night,” I reminded him. “That’s all Mercy had given us.”
The second two desserts required spoons to cut through their somewhat glossy and sticky sweet coatings. I was once again in heaven at how light they were on the tongue, dissolving into a sweetness that had my eyes rolling and Artemis kicking at the table again—think he’d been aiming for my foot.
“You remember when you would tell me never to engage in dangerous things,” he said. “When you would calm me after a nightmare?”
“When you’d reward yourself with my dick?” I recalled. “I wonder if we’ll ever get that back.”
He spooned another bite of dessert into his moan and moaned, making eye contact with me. “I still like sucking dick,” he said. “If that’s what you mean.”
“I know that,” I said. “What else would you even want back from that time?”
He shrugged. “Maybe how protected I felt by you.”
“I still give you that, don’t I?”
“A little bit, bit that was before I knew how to handle a gun,” he said. “And get those bullseyes. I think I might be a prodigy.”
I grabbed his foot with mine under the table.
“I know you are,” he said. “You’re my prodigy.
All mine. And we’re going to get married.
How much more can we get to the old us? If I’m being honest. I don’t know if I’d even go back.
I actually prefer knowing you can handle yourself, even if I am your ultimate protector. ”
He nodded and listened, finishing his dessert. “I think the next year of our lives is going to fly by,” he said. “I also think you need to repropose to me in front of the Eiffel Tower.”
“Ok,” I nodded. “So, we’re going to France then.”
“Duh,” he laughed. “That’s where the Eiffel Tower is.”
“What are you going to miss about Sanctum?”
I’d suddenly brought the food down. Art’s shoulders sank. “I’ll miss the access to things. I’ll miss the opportunity of seeing how things unfold.”
“We’ll have the internet,” I reminded him. “You can see the world from there. But I know what you mean. And I’m sure if anything happens, Mercy will let us know. She has her ways. Trust me.”
“I hate the rule about no social media,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and placing it on the table. “I want everyone to see where I’ve been. I want to post pictures of this. The dessert and just the view.”
“And you know why that rule is in place?” I asked, but it didn’t need an answer.
He nodded. “We’re undercover now,” he said. “We’re secret agents.” He giggled. “Super secret agents.” Gesturing with his hands together and two fingers in place of funs. “If we had a third, we could totally do a Charlie’s Angels thing.”
I laughed. “We’re not even married and you want us to introduce a third.”
Art scoffed. “Not like that. It’s me and you forever. Unless it’s like Pedro Pascal. Because that man could just—watch, like assuming he wanted to.”
“I could deal with that,” I told him. “We should finish dessert and go to bed. It’s been a busy day, and tomorrow—hell, the next year is going to be a ride.”
“A ride.” He wiggled his brow. “I like a ride.”
“Then finish up your food, and I’ll show you several inches of hard ride.” I had his full leg in a grip now with one foot pinning his inner thigh.
It was a mixture of drunkenness and the high of being forced into a sabbatical from work—a year of no danger, a year of fucking in every country we visited. That was something I could do, happily for the rest of my life.
“Love you,” he said before slurping up the rest of his flan in the most unattractive way possible—yet, holy fuck, I loved him so much, even the mess.
My future husband.