Chapter 24
The master bathroom smelled of expensive soap and the crisp, clean heat of the curling iron. A thin glaze of steam clung to the upper corners of the frameless mirror, blurring the sharp, minimalist lines of the ceiling.
Felicity stood before the marble basin, her left hand handling the zipper of her cosmetics bag with a slow, deliberate efficiency. Her right arm remained slightly elevated, the white gauze bandage around her wrist fresh and tight, tucked neatly beneath the silk cuff of her robe.
Tucker stepped into the bathroom, the heavy soles of his dress shoes clicking sharply against the dark slate tiles.
He was already half-dressed for the gala, his white tuxedo shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the black silk panels of his bow tie hanging loose around his neck like an unknotted scarf.
He stopped behind her, his large, warm hands coming down to rest on her shoulders, his eyes meeting hers in the glass.
"Look at you," he murmured, his face softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to the curve of her neck. He smelled of sandalwood shaving cream and the clean, stiff starch of his dinner jacket. "The color is completely back in your cheeks. You look like yourself again, Lissy."
"I feel like myself," she said, her voice dropping into that sweet, even register she had perfected over the last four days.
She reached up with her left hand, her fingers smoothing down the front of his shirt.
"The house has been so peaceful since I stopped fighting the quiet.
You were entirely right, Tucker. I just needed to let the system settle. "
Tucker let out a long, quiet breath, his chest expanding against her back.
The relief radiating from him was almost palpable, a heavy, domestic weight lifting from his shoulders.
"You have no idea how good it is to hear you say that. Truly. I’ve been...
I’ve been having a hard time focusing at the firm, worrying about what was happening out here while I was stuck in those compliance briefs. "
"You don't have to worry anymore," she said, offering the mirror a small, unblemished smile that looked completely compliant, completely recovered. "I’m very much looking forward to tonight. The Vanguard closure, the partners... it’s going to be a beautiful evening."
"It is," he agreed, his eyes dropping to the white gauze on her right wrist before quickly shifting back to her face, as if he didn't want to remind her of the kitchen, or the kettle, or the cold water under the tap. "Brianne arranged for the car to pick us up at six-thirty. She’s meeting us at the venue early to verify the VIP reception lines. She’s been an absolute rock through all of this. "
"She has," Felicity murmured, her fingers remaining steady as she picked up her lipstick brush. "She's been incredibly attentive."
"She loves you," Tucker said simply, stepping back to finish his tie. "We both do. We just want you safe, Pooh Bear."
The nickname didn't make her flinch. It didn't send a cold spike of panic down her spine.
She was no longer a character trapped inside the pages of The Inconvenient Wife, jumping at shadows and weeping over shifted mugs.
She was watching the system run from the inside, waiting for the exact moment the stage was set and the lights were turned on.
"Go finish getting dressed," she said softly, her smile remaining perfectly intact in the glass. "I'll be down in ten minutes."
"Don't rush," he called out from the bedroom, his voice warm, confident, and entirely seduced by the ease of her compliance. "We have all the time in the world."
Felicity waited until the sound of his footsteps faded into the walk-in closet.
Then, she slowly lowered her right hand, her thumb pressing lightly against the edge of the gauze bandage where the raw, blistering crescent of her burn was hidden.
The pain was sharp, real, and beautifully grounding—a small, physical anchor keeping her steady as she prepared to step into the room they had designed for her.