EPILOGUE
London
Three Days Later
She’d made the right decision. She hoped.
Liv typed in her code and leaned against the back wall of the elevator. There was a soft whirring as it passed from floor to floor, and a ding as it stopped at the floor of her penthouse. The doors had been gaping wide for a few moments before she realized they’d opened, and she stared into the dimly lit foyer, trying to figure out why she was home in the middle of the afternoon.
Her brain was just on overload. Or maybe she was in shock. She’d completely turned her life upside down, and now she had to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do next.
Her time with Interpol had truly come to an end. When Beck had called and asked her to be reasonable and come back to work, she’d had every intention of accepting his offer. She was in the prime of her career, and she did good work. Important work.
But after her time with The Gravediggers on Imperial Island, her eyes had been opened to so much more. She was barely scratching the surface in what she was doing with Interpol. She’d put in a request with MI6 instead. The work was more dangerous—a life lived in the gray—but she wasn’t married. She didn’t have a family. It was a risk she could afford to take.
It was time to stop delaying and get her foundation off the ground. The Elizabeth Rothschild Foundation for Girls needed to become a reality. Liv owed it to her sister, and to all the girls over the years whom she’d stared in the face and told it would be okay. She’d need to hire someone full-time to oversee it and deal with the day-to-day minutiae, but it was time to use her money and experience for good and push forward with the project. Elizabeth was safe and happy, despite the trauma from her childhood, and other little girls deserved that as well.
Her footsteps sank into the plush carpet and the air-conditioning sent chills across her skin. She dropped her keys in the little bowl on the foyer table and went to adjust the thermostat.
She needed to call Donner and check up on him. And then what?
Watery light filtered in through the bank of windows, but she didn’t bother to turn on any lights. The rain suited her mood, and she decided her best course of action was to put on a pair of lounge pants, pour herself a glass of wine, and spend the rest of the afternoon reading Miller Darling’s latest release on the chaise in her bedroom.
Detouring into the kitchen, Liv took a bottle of white from the small wine fridge, going through the ritual of opening it. She poured herself a healthy glass, putting the remainder of the bottle on ice, and then carried it into her bedroom. The electronic shades were still down from when she’d closed them that morning, and she moved to the small round table next to the chaise, where she thought she’d left the remote for the shades. Not there.
She set down her wine and went to the bed, checking the nightstands. The housekeeper had been in and her bed was made. Maybe the woman had moved the remote somewhere.
The lounge pants and tank she preferred were folded at the end of the bed, and Liv quickly stripped out of her clothes and put them on. And then she searched through the bedcovers again for the remote.
“Damn it,” she said. She’d had it that morning. She distinctly remembered closing the shades before she left to see Beck. She always closed them during the day in the summer because the sun made it impossible to cool the bedroom, even with the air conditioner on high. Maybe she’d taken it into the kitchen with her when she’d grabbed a bottle of water.
She flipped on the light on the bedside table, and she froze as the hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end. Hanging above the bed was a painting she hadn’t seen in two years. It was the Degas that Dante had taken the night he’d died.
He was here.
Even as she had the thought, the remote landed on the bed just feet in front of her.
“Looking for that?” Dante asked.
He sat in a chair cast in the shadows behind the door, his legs crossed and his cheek resting on his fist.
She hadn’t even felt his presence. As much training and experience as she’d had, he was just that good. If he’d been the enemy, she’d already be dead and not know what had hit her.
Her heart caught in her chest and she looked down at the bed, picking up the remote and giving herself a moment to breathe. She wasn’t prepared to see him. Not when she’d said good-bye with such finality.
Liv cleared her throat. “I see you let yourself in.” She pressed the button on the remote, and the shades slowly started opening.
“Your security leaves something to be desired. You might as well not have any at all.”
“I’m sure it keeps out ninety-nine percent of the riffraff,” she said.
“But it’s the one percent you have to watch out for. British Intelligence agents become targets.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking how you know about that?”
“Not at all,” he said, smiling. “But I would like to ask you to reconsider the offer MI6 intends to make to you. If you’re interested, The Gravediggers have an opening for a qualified agent.”
“You’d let a woman join the brotherhood?” Liv asked, saccharine sweet. “You’re so progressive. But I believe I’m going to have to pass.”
He uncrossed his legs and got up from the chair, putting his hands in his trouser pockets as he went to stand in front of the window.
“What are you doing here, Dante?” she asked. “I think I made myself clear back on the boat. This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid. I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster for almost two years. I can’t do it anymore. Great sex isn’t worth the heartache.”
“What if I told you I love you?”
She stiffened and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d say you must need great sex pretty badly to pull out that card.” Pain ricocheted through her body, and she hoped her strength to stand and face him held until he left. “If that’s all you came for, you can leave. In fact, I insist on you leaving even if that’s not what you came for.”
“I’ve been told I have too much pride,” he said, ignoring her. “Too much arrogance. And that’s always been true. So I need you to look at me and see the truth.”
He came toward her, and her knees gave out and she dropped down onto the bed. He took her hands and knelt down in front of her. She wanted to look away, but his gaze was captivating, and she saw something in the depths of his eyes she’d never seen before.
“This is just me,” he said sincerely. “There’s no Simon Locke and no Gravedigger. Only the real Dante Malcolm. A man who comes to you imperfect. A man who thought he had great worth, but was worthless. A man who was selfish, but finds himself wanting only to give to and serve one woman. A man who didn’t become a real man until one woman showed him his true reflection.”
His voice broke, and Liv realized she was holding her breath. A single tear fell from the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek.
“You’ve made me a better man,” he rasped. “A man who loves you with everything he is, can be, and will be. You’re worth all the risk. You’re worth the fight. And if you’ll have me, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”
She didn’t know what to say. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected Dante to humble himself before anyone, much less her. But here he was, on his knees, his pride in tatters and love in his eyes.
The guard she’d placed around her heart slowly came down and she touched the side of his face. “You really mean it.”
“I love you, Liv. Always and forever.”
The tears came faster and she launched herself at him, so they both fell to the floor. She wept against his neck, and he held her, whispering words of love and comfort.
“Is this a good kind of crying or a bad kind?” he asked.
“It’s good,” she said. “I love you too. You’re worth the risk and worth fighting for.”
“How do you feel about becoming Lady Malcolm?” he asked. “It’s a defunct title, of course, now that I’m deceased, and you’d have no power or standing in society, but the benefits are good.”
“What kinds of benefits?” she asked, arching a brow and feeling a lightness inside that had never been there before.
“These kinds of benefits,” he said, rolling her to her back and kissing the side of her neck.
She arched against him and felt his hardness press against her.
“I think these are benefits that can be agreed upon,” she said, her breathing coming faster. “Lady Malcolm has a nice ring to it.”
“Speaking of rings,” he said. “I’ve one in my pocket for you.”
“And I thought you were just happy to see me,” she said, her laugh choking off on a moan as he stripped off her tank and his lips found her nipple.
“A lady never laughs when she’s about to be ravished,” he said. “There are rules to being a lady.”
“Says who?” she panted, his mouth driving her crazy.
“London society for hundreds of years.”
He stripped off her lounge pants and his own clothes, and lay between her open thighs, the head of his cock pressing against her, stretching her.
Her mouth quirked in a sly smile, and then she hooked her leg around his thigh and deftly flipped him onto his back.
“This lady never follows the rules,” she said, and then she sank down onto him and rode them both to oblivion.