51. Maverick
51
Maverick
S ophie emerged from the basement. I half expected to see remorse, maybe regret, from taking a life so brutally. But all I saw there was self-assurance. Confidence.
She never ceased to amaze me. She continued to prove that she was my equal, my perfect match, my soulmate. A dark angel sent here to prevent me from going too far into the pitch black abyss that was my own mind, while also bringing light to the shadows.
And now, she was my wife.
I didn’t know if she was serious last night, but this morning when she suggested we go down to city hall and pull some strings to get a marriage license, I didn’t hesitate. I walked right into our closet, dug out the ring box from Vegas, and placed it in front of her.
“You were always the one, Soph,” I told her softly. Her eyes flickered down to the closed ring box and back to me. She didn’t know about this piece yet. “Did you think I wouldn’t catch on to your little plan, angel of darkness?” I teased.
She gave me a playful and mischievous smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” I gripped the back of her neck and kissed her. “Are we just going to forget the fact that you told my parents we were getting married?”
“You brought it up first.”
Chuckling, I said, “Who’s the one deflecting now?”
She licked her lips nervously. “I was wondering when you’d bring that up.”
“Open it,” I urged, so she could see just how serious I was.
She did. “You were serious, too?”
“I’ll always be serious about you, Soph. Will you marry me?”
“You always surprise me,” she said softly. “But that’s one reason why I love you.” Her words hung in the air like a promise. Then she turned to beam at me. “I will absolutely marry the fuck out of you, Mav.”
Now she stopped in front of me, her shoulders dropping in relief. I waited with bated breath for her to say something.
“It’s done,” she murmured.
“How do you feel?”
Her eyes glimmered with tears. “Better than I could imagine. I hope my dad’s soul can rest in peace now.” She exhaled loudly. “Thank you for following through on your promise to help me avenge my father. I’ve been carrying this weight for more than ten years. I built my whole career on the motive of finding his killers, and now…”
The frown on her face concerned me.
“Now I don’t have to pretend anymore.”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think she wanted me to say anything at all, actually. Just listen to her. Be here for her. I gathered her into my arms and held her. Her hands clasped me tightly behind my back, squeezing.
“I promise I’m good,” she insisted.
“I know you are.”
“Now it’s your turn. I’ll follow your lead.”
***
Turns out, for once, having her follow my lead meant walking into the unknown—because I didn’t have a fucking clue what I was doing.
All I knew was that I needed to find a way to keep the cartel intact once we took my family out. For days, Sophie and I planned with Duane and Paulie. They discussed among themselves, spreading word through the underground circuit in ways only they knew how to do. I had other things on my plate that I needed to worry about.
Like all the operations of the club. Final permit inspections and approvals for the casino, the sex club, the renovations. Adjusting to a full-time life with Sophie by trying to not stay at home in bed all fucking day when it was so tempting to forget all my responsibilities and get lost in my wife.
But I couldn’t. She knew that, I knew that. We spent as much time as we could together, and she often came with to the club to strategize, but she also liked to give me space. I didn’t like it, not one bit. Yet she insisted that we still maintain some sort of separation in our lives. What she planned to do was beyond me. She said she was working on something, but I had yet to find out any details, and I didn’t press her.
We never did that to each other. We confided in one another when we were ready to share. That mutual respect built confidence in our foundation. There was no hiding anything, just… trusting each other and our judgment.
Nearly two weeks after the altercation with my parents, I received a text, and it weighed on me so heavily I thought I might suffocate. I debated for hours whether to share it with Sophie. I knew what she would say, but my heart was pulling me in a different direction.
And I thought that maybe—just maybe—there was a chance to avoid a lifetime of pain and hurt.