Six months later…
“You’re going to do fine.”
Shayla looked up at Luke with wide eyes, practically hyperventilating. “What if I don’t?”
He smiled wryly and shook his head. “You helped take down a biker gang and a sleazy psychopath with nothing but your wit and nerve.” He kissed her gently. “I believe in you. This is child’s play for you, little one.”
Shayla was unconvinced. She felt her stomach rise in her throat, and the electric excitement that tingled over her whole body reminded her of the first time she’d ever gone out with Luke. But that had been easy in comparison. At least with Luke she would only have to deal with herself if it all blew up in her face.
She peered out from behind the curtain, only managing to see a sliver of the crowd. If she tripped or slipped up her speech out there, she’d be lambasted in front of the whole country. They were calling her the Midas of news, which Luke absolutely loved. Every story she touched turned to gold.
It wasn’t that simple, but Shayla never corrected anyone. It was easier to let them think that she was naturally brilliant than to explain how hard she worked to get the stories and angles she did. Let them think she was magic. It would keep them on their toes, at least.
Luke followed her line of sight and pulled her chin up so that she only saw him. He was wearing a tux, and looked absolutely gorgeous in it. His hair was neatly combed, and almost all of his tattoos were covered by the high neck. Of course, the few that did poke through only made the look sexier.
“I have to get back to my seat, gorgeous.” He grinned mischievously. “I want the best seat in the house when you walk across that stage.”
She gulped. She was a big girl. She could do this herself. “Okay,” she squeaked. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
He kissed her again and patted the silver, silken material of her dress where it stretched across her ass. Luke’s eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he’d seen her in it for the first time. It was a modest enough gown, with a high neckline, albeit revealing back, but it was tight around her hips and chest in a way that Shayla had to admit was quite flattering.
She counted her breaths steadily as she waited for them to call her name. In. Out. In. Out. She reminded herself to be thankful that this was the hardest thing she had to do today. There had been a time, though it felt like ages ago, when she’d woken up one morning thinking that she’d have to sleep with Anthony Blake.
Shayla began to laugh, her body wracked with giggles and hiccups that caused those walking past her backstage to stare in confusion. But she didn’t care. She’d made it here, after all. She could do anything. Luke was right.
“We are happy to present the Emmy Award for Outstanding Investigative Journalism in a Regularly Scheduled Broadcast to a very special woman, who personally fought through the grit of her subject matter and came out victorious. Since what has become known as “The Reaper Conspiracy,” she has demonstrated time and time again the exceptional ability of her person. Please welcome Shayla Queene!”
Shayla’s heart did a somersault, and she plastered on a big, yet genuine smile and walked out across the stage. She barely saw anything amidst the flashes, though the applause and cheers nearly knocked her off her feet.
Once at the podium, Shayla grounded herself for her speech by looking out at Luke’s beaming face from the front row. It was a short and bland speech, thanking all those who had assisted in her success in recent months. She’d practiced it for over an hour in the mirror at home beforehand, though the words still felt clumsy in her mouth.
Finally, she gripped her trophy and prepared to make the long walk backstage. The crowd erupted again, but this time they seemed more boisterous than ever. Surely she couldn’t have had such an effect?
Shayla looked out in confusion, just in time to see Luke bounding across the stage toward her. “What are you doing?” she cried, laughing.
His only answer was to stop in front of her and drop onto one knee, pulling out a box from his jacket pocket and opening it for her inspection. She nearly didn’t hear the words that he spoke, the crowd was cheering so loud.
“Shayla Queene,” he said. Then, a little louder, “Since the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that I wanted you to be my wife. Would you do me this honor?”
Only then did the room go silent. It was as every member of the crowd was holding in the breath in anticipation. Maybe Shayla was holding her breath too. She felt something deep and visceral then, something that only Luke could provide. And something he had been providing since the moment she met him—pure, primal joy.
“Yes!”