Chapter 19
SIMONE
The armored SUV feels like a cage. Derek's positioned in the driver's seat, weapon resting on his thigh, eyes scanning the perimeter. I'm in the back with the doors locked, listening to tactical chatter through Luc's open comms channel on Derek's radio.
"Breach team in position. Target barricaded, upper floor, northwest corner."
That's Remy's voice, calm and tactical.
"Sniper teams have visual. No shot. Too much cover."
"Negotiator standing by."
I press my palms against my thighs, force myself to breathe. Luc's in there, moving toward a man who killed Julien, who just tried to kill me, who's cornered and dangerous.
The radio crackles. "Fontaine, this is NOPD. The building is surrounded. There's no way out. Come out with your hands up and we can talk."
Silence stretches. I count the seconds. They drag. Then they drag longer.
Then a voice comes through, rough and tired. "Nothing to talk about. I know how this ends."
"It doesn't have to end badly. Put down your weapon, come out, and nobody gets hurt."
"Too late for that."
The silence stretches again. I imagine Luc positioned with the breach team, weapon ready, waiting for the order to move. My chest tightens.
Derek glances back at me. "He'll be fine. Luc's done this before."
I nod but don't trust my voice to answer.
The negotiator tries again. "Marcel, we have evidence. Communications between you and Armand LaCroix. Payment records. We know he hired you. We know what happened. But you're not the one giving orders. Help us, and we can work something out."
"Work something out?" A bitter laugh crackles through the radio. "You think I'm stupid? Armand's going down. I'm a loose end. Only question is whether I go to a cell or a grave."
"Then choose the cell. Come out. Live."
Another long pause. Then he speaks: "No."
Gunfire erupts through the radio—Fontaine shooting at the breach team.
"Suspect firing! Suspect firing!"
"Breach! Breach! Breach!"
"Return fire authorized!"
Gunfire crackles through the radio. I flinch. Derek's eyes flick to me, but he stays silent, letting me listen.
More gunfire crackles through the radio. Shouting follows. Tactical commands overlap. My throat closes. My thoughts spiral. I just listen to the chaos and wait.
"Suspect down! Suspect down! Cease fire!"
"Medic to the scene!"
"Building secure. All units, building secure."
The radio goes quiet. I wait for Luc's voice, for some confirmation he's okay.
Derek's voice breaks the silence. "He's good. Fontaine's down."
Relief hits so hard I have to brace against the seat.
"Scene secure. Evidence recovery teams moving in."
I don't know how long I sit there. Minutes blur together. Eventually, Derek's phone buzzes. He checks it, then glances back at me. "Luc's en route. ETA five minutes."
I wait, watching the street. When the SUV pulls up, Derek unlocks the doors. Luc climbs into the back beside me, and I throw myself at him. He catches me, pulls me against his chest. I feel his heartbeat.
"It's over," he says quietly. "Fontaine's dead. They're recovering evidence now, but it's done."
"You're okay."
"I'm fine." He pulls back, cups my face in his hands. "All threats are eliminated. Armand's in custody. Julien's dead. Fontaine's dead. Nobody's coming after you."
The words take a moment to land. When they do, something inside me releases. The constant tension I've carried for weeks finally lets go.
"It's really over?"
"It's over." He strokes his thumb along my jaw. "Protection detail ends. You're safe."
I lean my forehead against his chest and let go.
"Take me home," I whisper.
"Yeah." He pulls me closer. "Let's go home."
Luc drives us back to the estate in silence. I watch the streets pass and realize I can actually see it now without scanning for threats.
When we arrive, Luc walks me inside the guest house. I stand in the middle of the living room, uncertain.
He crosses to me, tips my chin up. "Rest now. You've been running on adrenaline and fear for weeks. It's done. Let yourself feel it."
I nod. He kisses me, slow and claiming. "Get some sleep. We'll handle everything else later."
I fall into bed and sleep through the day.
The days after blur together. FBI debriefings.
Legal meetings. Board updates. The media shifts focus from me to Armand's prosecution.
Evidence mounts. Federal prosecutors build their case.
Fontaine's records prove murder-for-hire, conspiracy, everything.
Armand's going to federal prison for life.
And through it all, Luc's there. Not hovering. Just present. The protection detail officially ends, but I don't leave the estate. I choose to stay. We both do.
Life settles into a new rhythm.
I wake one morning to sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows and Luc's weight pressing me into the mattress. His mouth trails along my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear.
"Morning," he murmurs against my skin.
I arch into him. "Good morning, Sir."
He rolls off me, sits up. "Shower. Then breakfast. You have that board meeting this morning."
I move immediately, the command settling something inside me. In the bathroom, the shower's hot and wakes me fully. I dry off, moisturize, get dressed in the navy suit and cream blouse I laid out last night, then step back into the bedroom.
Luc's already dressed in dark slacks and a fitted shirt, working on his laptop at the desk. He glances up when I emerge. "Coffee's ready in the kitchen."
"Thank you, Sir."
The kitchen smells like coffee and bacon. Luc's already prepared everything, plated and waiting. I pour coffee for both of us, sit across from him at the small table.
"How's the LaCroix board treating you?" he asks between bites.
"Civil. Mostly." I sip my coffee. "Patricia's distant but professional. Some members are respectful. Others are cold but functional. The company's thriving, which helps."
Luc nods. "Trial's starting soon."
"Yes. I testify in a few days."
"You ready?"
"I'm not afraid of him anymore." I set down my cup. "He can't hurt me. He's going to federal prison for the rest of his life. The evidence is overwhelming."
"Good." He reaches across the table, covers my hand with his. "You did that. You stood up to him, took back your company, and put him away."
"We did that."
"No. I protected you. You fought him." His thumb strokes across my knuckles. "Don't diminish what you accomplished."
I finish breakfast, rinse the dishes, grab my bag. Luc walks me to my car, kisses me once, hard and possessive.
"I'll be home by evening," I tell him. "Unless the board meeting runs late."
"Text me if it does. I'm coordinating with Remy this afternoon, but I'll be done by late afternoon."
I drive to LaCroix Petroleum, park in my reserved spot, and head up to the executive floor. My assistant greets me with messages and a schedule update. The board meeting's still on for this morning. Nothing unexpected.
Hours pass in emails and reports. When I head to the boardroom, I'm fully in CEO mode. Patricia's already there, reviewing documents. Other board members filter in. Walter Brandt gives a nod of acknowledgment. A few others murmur greetings.
The meeting runs smoothly. We cover quarterly reports, strategic planning, budget approvals. By midday, we're done.
I return to my office, handle calls, review contracts. The work feels normal again, stable, no longer overshadowed by threats or surveillance or fear.
Late afternoon, I pack up and leave. I head to Luc's estate, to the life we're building together.
Luc's in his office when I arrive, on a call with Remy. I change out of my suit, pull on comfortable clothes, and start dinner. It's domestic and strange and perfect.
He finds me in the kitchen soon after, wraps his arms around me from behind. "How was the board?"
"Functional. Professional. Boring, honestly."
"Boring's good."
"Boring's wonderful." I lean back against him. "How's Rapier Strategic?"
"We're busy. Remy's handling a corporate security audit. I'm consulting on a dignitary protection detail next month." He kisses my neck. "But it's manageable. We're making it work."
We are. Luc balances his work at Rapier Strategic with our relationship. I run LaCroix Petroleum and come home to him. I'm CEO in the boardroom, submissive in his bedroom, equal partner in everything that matters.
Dinner's simple. We have jambalaya with crusty artisan bread and wine. We eat together, talk about our days, plan the weekend. It's ordinary in the best possible way.
After dinner, Luc's phone rings. He glances at the screen, frowns. "It's Margot. I need to take this."
"Go ahead."
He steps into his office. I clean up the kitchen, start the dishwasher. When he emerges a short while later, his expression's shifted into tactical mode.
"Emergency at Rapier Strategic. Margot needs me to come in."
"What happened?"
"One of Dominion's staff members witnessed a murder last night. She's terrified, doesn't know who to trust, and NOPD's writing her off as unreliable." He grabs his keys. "Margot wants Rapier Strategic to handle protection and investigate independently."
"Who's the witness?"
"Renata St. Clair. She's a bartender at Dominion."
I know Renata—quiet, efficient, keeps to herself. "What did she see?"
"Someone was killed in a parking garage near her apartment. The body disappeared before police arrived. Nobody believes her." Luc's already moving toward the door. "Detective Andy Broussard's assigned to the case."
"Andy?" Andy's with NOPD and a Dominion member. He knows Renata from the club.
"Yeah. It could complicate things." Luc kisses me quickly. "I'll be back late. Don't wait up."
He's gone before I can respond.
I finish cleaning the kitchen, pour another glass of wine, settle on the couch with my laptop. Work emails keep me occupied for a while, but my mind drifts to Renata, to whatever she saw, to the fear she must be feeling.
I know that fear—the constant looking over your shoulder, the not knowing who to trust, the feeling that nobody believes you when you say you're in danger.
My phone buzzes. Text from Luc:
Renata's safe at Rapier Strategic. Remy's coordinating protection detail. This is going to be a long case.
I text back:
Keep her safe.
His response comes immediately:
Always.
I set down my phone and stare at the wine in my glass. Not long ago, I was the one needing protection, the one in danger. Now it's Renata's turn.
The cycle continues. Threats emerge. People get hurt. And those who can fight back do.
I think about Armand sitting in a cell, waiting for his trial, about Julien dead, about Fontaine dead, about all the choices that led to this moment.
And I think about who I am now.
I run an empire and I kneel for Luc. Both are real. Both are mine.
The performance is over.
I finish my wine and head to bed. Luc will be late handling the Renata situation, but that's fine. I'll be here when he gets back.
The constant fear, the pretending—it's all gone.
I'm exactly who I choose to be.