NO MERCY
Vera
“So, you’ve got a plan?” Saph asked, eyes narrowing.
“Yep.” I grinned, flashing my teeth.
“Yep.” I let a grin flash across my face.
“You’re seriously badass. But will Saira actually fall for it?”
I raised a brow. “All you need to do is call her. Today. Tell her you want to talk about Julian. Play the part. You know, act like you need her. She’s a narcissist, like Alistair says. She’ll eat it up.”
“And when do I meet her?”
“Next week. At the domestic airport’s only café .”
She wrinkled her nose. “That place is a dump.”
I leaned in. “Then humble up. You’re David, she’s Goliath—and you’ve got one stone in that sling. One chance.”
Saph tapped her temple. “One stone, one shot only.”
“Exactly. Let her think she’s above you. That’s how you win.”
“Wouldn’t a café downtown be better?”
I shook my head. “No. You’ll need Alistair’s jet. That trip will be one she’ll never forget.”
“Wait—you want me to get her on a plane? Are you fucking insane? You’re talking about leaving me trapped on a jet with Saira?” Saph dragged a hand down her face and rolled her eyes. “Oh, Lord, help me. This won’t work. She won’t even meet me.”
I groaned, leaning in. “Listen, Saph. No offense, but you’re a pebble in her shoe. She wants you gone more than you realize.”
Her brows knit. “Meaning?”
“She’ll meet you. She’ll be dying to. Because she wants to see you beg. She wants to watch your face crack while she grinds you under her heel.”
Saph shook her head. I caught her face in my hands, stilling her. Her baby-blue eyes locked on mine, and for a moment my chest kicked hard—I understood exactly how Julian had fallen under her spell.
“Believe me,” I said quietly, “Saira will say yes. Right now she’s the cat, and she wants the mouse. She’ll be waiting for you to crawl to her, desperate and broken. That’s what she craves. Let her believe it. Play along.”
“Then what happens?”
I held Saph’s gaze. “Jules already did the hard part. His statement about Saira’s role in the rape and her illegal activities is being handled. The police will search her home on the day you take her inside the jet.”
Her mouth parted, but I cut in before she spoke. “So you meet her at the café. Let a few tears slip. You’ve got the chops for it.”
She snorted a loud laugh. “You think?”
“Sweetie, you can pull it off.” I slid my hand over hers. “Beg her to stop, make it sound like you’re breaking. Then tell her Julian’s flying in and hint he wants to make peace. I’ll give you the gate. She’ll follow, because deep down, she can’t resist him. She’s obsessed.”
“Right, I’m listening.” She nodded.
“The thing is, Jules won’t be at the gate,” I said. “You’ll keep walking. Security will wave you through, straight onto the jet. Saira’s ego won’t let her question it. She’ll follow. She thinks you’re harmless, and she loves a challenge. Picture Cruella de Vil strapped into a roller coaster.”
“Vee.” Saph’s cheeks flushed crimson. “I told you, I cannot be trapped alone with that woman.”
I smirked. “Who said you’d be alone?”
Her brows knit, suspicion sparking in her eyes.
“You’ll have Alistair, a cop, and maybe Julian onboard if he agrees,” I went on. “By the time the jet’s in the air, the police will have raided her house and dug up everything they need. Every crime Julian laid out in his statement. We’ll time it to the minute. She’ll be arrested while you’re above the clouds.”
Saph’s lips parted. “So we’re taking her down while we circle the sky?”
I tilted my head, a slow smile spreading. “Exactly. You’ll be giving her a trip she’ll regret for the rest of her life.”
Saph laughed, eyes alight. “God, I love it. When did you turn into such a bitch?”
“Honey, I was born with it.”
A few minutes later, Damian emerged from his room, taking the stairs two at a time before slowing at the entrance. “Vee, can I go to Jake’s?”
I watched him shrug into his water-resistant jacket. Outside, rain streaked down the living-room windows in heavy sheets.
“Have you asked your father?” I asked.
“He told me to check with you since you’re in charge of dinner tonight.” His green eyes locked on mine, wide and pleading.
“Be home for dinner by six o’clock,” I said, placing my hand on my hip. “Don’t forget to wear a helmet if you’re biking there.”
“Yes, Mom,” he teased, grinning ear to ear.
Julian and Alistair stepped out of the office as Damian tugged on his helmet and slipped into his sneakers. He gave Julian a polite nod, then tossed me a salute. “Bye.” With that, he ducked out the door.
Julian chuckled. “He’s quite a kid.”
Sapphire’s gaze wandered upward, taking in the glitter of the chandeliers.
“Damian’s great,” I said. “Too much screen time, though. I keep pushing him to spend more hours with real kids instead of computer avatars.”
“Let’s get straight to it,” Alistair said, settling onto the divan. I stood behind him, resting my hands on his shoulders while Saph and Julian took the sofa opposite.
“Alistair, thank you for everything you’ve done for Julian,” Saph said, her fingers lacing through my brother’s.
“There’s no need to thank me,” Alistair replied evenly. “Julian, Jessie’s out of your life. Lester Harbor Women’s Correctional Facility will be her new address.”
Saph squeezed Julian’s hand tighter.
I spoke up. “She and I already talked about taking out the trash, meaning Saira.”
“I’ve agreed,” Saph said, glancing at my brother. “But only if Julian’s on board.”
Julian’s eyes hardened. “Alistair filled me in on the details. I want Saira Quinn to rot in hell, but not if it costs anyone.”
“There’s one more person whose career deserves to burn.” I turned to Saph. “Your colleague Raphael tried to ruin my brother’s life by going after you.”
“He failed,” Saph said coolly. “And he’s terrified Alistair will finish him off. He knows exactly who you’re connected to.” Her gaze flicked to Alistair.
He stroked his chin, thoughtful. “Want me to call Paul about him?”
“The guy played a hand in destroying my brother’s life. Show him no mercy.” I dropped my thumb down.
Julian muttered, “Pollice verso.” It was our old inside joke—he’d point his thumb down whenever I was in trouble with Mom. But this time, the meaning was deadly serious. No mercy for the wicked.
“You’re right,” Alistair said, pulling out his phone. He pressed dial, then switched to speaker. “Paul, it’s me. I need a favor.”
Senator McGrath’s voice came clear and casual. “Yeah? What can I do for you?”
It took a few minutes to convince Paul to end Raphael’s career. Once the senator agreed, Alistair slipped out when another call lit up his phone, retreating to his office.
Julian sat with his arm draped around Saph. “Ad Augusta per angusta,” he murmured, then translated, “Vee, you’re the eagle rising high, overcoming hardship.”
If only he knew half of it. But Julian carried his own wars. We all did. My thoughts turned to Damian.
“Alistair wants full custody of his son,” I said quietly. “The appeal’s already in motion. It’s a war with Saira—and Damian’s the one paying the price every time he’s with her.”
Saph’s cool eyes softened. “You’re becoming attached.”
“Damian’s my son, too. Not in blood but in spirit,” I answered. “He and Alistair love me. I love them.”
Julian pushed to his feet and began pacing, circles etched into the rug. Silence thickened until he stopped. “I told Saira to leave me alone. Peace for peace. She refused.” His dark eyes lifted to mine. “Her time’s up. She’s going down.”
Alistair
“Frank, I trust you didn’t call me about the weather.” I pressed the phone to my ear and shut the office door, locking out the world.
“Scotty, I’m glad we could talk. Montville State Statutes authorize peace officers to—”
“Enough. Get to the point,” I cut him off.
“The judge signed and executed a search warrant in connection with Saira Quinn.”
“Connection?” I snapped. “Legal jargon, I get it, but don’t dress her up with the respect she doesn’t deserve.”
“Listen, I’m on your side,” Frank reminded me. “Your informant’s confession contained enough to put her away, provided it holds up. The judge found it credible. Reliable.”
“Good.”
Frank hesitated. I heard his breath hitch before he went on. “There’s more. My team recovered a body last night. Head, feet, hands all gone. But the ink was still there. An executioner tattooed across the right bicep.”
I leaned into the silence. “Oh?”
“The victim fits the description of the man who assisted in the assault on your friend, Julian. We also recovered another body not long ago. Decomposed, washed up on the shore. Same story. Head, arms, and legs cut off. When we finally located the head, the tongue was gone.”
My jaw locked. My hand slipped out of my pocket, fingers twitching against my thigh. “What are you saying, Frank?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Nothing at all. We’ve got suspicions. Some men from a motorcycle club, but nothing that will stick. As far as I’m concerned, these are cold cases.” He paused, then muttered, “Right now, we’re in the middle of a drug war. The department’s stretched thin. We need resources.”
I drew a slow breath, let it out, forcing the tension from my hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Scotty. I knew I could count on you. You’re a saint.”
“I’m no saint,” I scoffed, then steered the conversation to a more pleasant topic. “Hey, about the house by the coast that you’ve been talking about. How’s that going?”
“It’s a nice early retirement gift,” Frank said, warmth slipping in his voice. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Now, I need one last favor. Do you like flying?”
“It depends on what you mean.” Frank chuckled. “Will I land in one piece, alive, and unharmed?”
“Of course,” I promised. “We’re friends. You’ll join me on a short flight to meet the woman you’ll arrest. We’ll time it with your search of her home.”
“My team will have to confirm all the evidence before I make the arrest.”
“Everything will be there,” I assured.
Julian’s confession had it mapped out clearly: Saira’s stash of narcotics, files on drug trafficking and illegal prostitution, and the loaded gun near Damian’s room. Still, one call to Lou would ensure plenty of evidence in her home. Better to salt the ground myself than risk a single seed slipping through. I never left stones unturned when it came to my enemies.
“Scotty, I’ve got to go. Promised my wife I’d take the grandkids to the park.”
“I won’t keep them waiting. Enjoy your day.”
I set the phone on my desk. Vera stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyebrow arched. She didn’t need to ask what I’d been discussing. That curve on her lips gave nothing away, yet promised everything. A Mona Lisa smile, and mine to read.
“Jules and Saph left,” she said. “They both agreed it’s time to strike.”
“Indeed,” I replied, yawning. It had been a long day.
“I want that viper to pay for what she did.” There was no snarl, no malice, and no anger in Vera’s face. Her dark eyes were cold like basalt. I knew basalt well: once heated, it could scorch through flesh and bone.
I shifted the subject. “Don’t forget tomorrow night. We’re meeting Angelo, Lou, and their partners at the country club.”
“Angelo Lucciano.” Vera’s mouth curved. “Handsome man. He’s a great poster boy for the mafia in this city. Will his baby cousin be there too?”
“No. Vanessa won’t be there this time.” My frown deepened at the memory of my eighteen-year-old ex-lover shooting daggers at Vera during Angelo’s birthday party last month.
“Has Angelo spoken with Liam O’Reilly?”
“Yes. Liam cut ties with Saira. She’s bad business. No profit, no future value.”
“Good.” Vera pivoted with ease. “I’ll start on risotto for dinner.”
“Uh, about that.” I arched a brow. “Just follow the instructions this time.” The last round of her risotto still lived in infamy: more paste than perfection.
“Do you want to cook?” She planted her hands on her hips, lips pursed in challenge.
“I cooked last night. It’s your turn, sweetheart.” I winked, unable to resist. I’d once suggested cooking lessons with the Michelin-star chef, Pietro De Luca, but she refused flat out, claiming she’d had her fill of chefs.
REVELATIONS
Vera
Saira’s arrest wasn’t a surprise.
The day it happened, I was stuck in a boardroom downtown, holding back-to-back meetings and pretending I had my shit together. Part of me was glad for the excuse; facing Saira—her drama, her chaos—still twisted something in my chest. I hadn’t set foot near the jet, but Alistair had. He ensured everything was done by the book. Her world fell apart when Lieutenant Frank Berry, one of the few cops she couldn’t buy, handcuffed and escorted her off Alistair’s private jet a few days ago.
News in Lester Harbor spread fast, but hearing it straight from Sapphire? That hit different.
Sunlight filled the penthouse kitchen, glazing the countertops and reflecting off the harbor on Saturday afternoon. Sapphire perched on a counter stool, twisting her long chestnut hair into a messy knot. She rocked in faded jeans and a vintage band tee, channeling that unmistakable ‘shit just got real’ family energy. She wrapped her hands around a warm coffee mug, holding on like it might help.
“That bitch never stood a chance against your man.” Sapphire’s words broke the quiet. “Lieutenant Berry walked onto Alistair’s jet and read her rights like it was nothing. She tried to bribe him, classic Saira, but he slapped the cuffs on her as if he’d been waiting for this day.”
I took the stool opposite her, sunlight glinting off her blue eyes. “Yeah, I know Berry. Alistair’s a fan.”
Sapphire nodded, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “You should’ve seen Saira when Alistair showed up. She went full Casper—pale as hell.”
I couldn’t help but grin, ear to ear. “Bet she realized the party was over.”
“Oh, trust me, she did. Alistair glared at her and said Berry’s team tore through her place. Drugs in the kitchen, the gun in Damian’s old closet, files on everyone she ever blackmailed.”
I tried to picture it: Saira blending into her white fur jacket, the shock wiping color from her face, as the game crashed down around her. “Zero chance at bail, huh?” I asked, mainly for the pleasure of hearing it out loud.
Sapphire let out a short, savage laugh. “None. She’s locked up. No bond. No rescue squad. She’s not getting out this time.”
“Thank God.” I leaned back, savoring this victory. “Well, Damian’s safe. He’s with us now. She’s done. She can’t touch him.”
Sapphire arched a brow. “So what’s the plan with the kid? Full-on foster mom vibes?”
I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “I’m adopting him. Shared parenting with Alistair.”
“That boy deserves way better than Saira,” Sapphire said. “He’s got a shot at a real future now.”
The kitchen felt too bright, too normal for a day like this. Outside, boats drifted on the water, tourists strolled the boardwalk, and the world turned as if nothing had changed.
But inside, everything was different.
Later that night, tucked against Alistair on the sofa, our talk drifted back to Saira’s downfall. He gave me that slow, knowing smile. “Sweetheart, did you know Sapphire is quite an actress? She was the star of the show.”
“I know,” I whispered, tracing his jaw and kissing him there.
“If she ever wants a career in film or TV, let me know.” He popped open the collar of his polo, giving me that lazy grin.
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to the warm skin just beneath it. “Don’t give her crazy ideas. She’s willing to try anything a little wild.”
“Sounds familiar,” he teased, slipping his hand down my pajama shorts to massage my clit.
“Shh, stop,” I hissed, removing his hand. “Your son is still up.”
“He went to bed ten minutes ago while you were having a bath,” he said. After gaining full custody of Damian, we celebrated the boy’s emancipation from years of neglect by repainting his room forest green, a symbol of renewal and growth.
“I needed that relaxing bath,” I admitted, already bracing myself for the next battle. “I’m not looking forward to seeing Erin and Oliver at your parents’ fundraiser in a few weeks.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Everything will be fine,” Alistair assured.
Saturday, December 22
How I wish Alistair were right, but trouble seemed to come with Erin wherever she went. Held at a deluxe hotel, the gala event saw families of fallen heroes mixing with the usual crowd of the rich, famous, and infamous. By now, I was accustomed to socializing with the Scotts, Cavallis, and other families.
Alistair and I chatted with a group when I noticed Erin scolding her daughter’s nanny. The green-eyed toddler held her nanny’s hand tightly. I felt a sharp pang in my empty womb, wondering what it would be like to be a mother. Expelling that thought, I masked my pain behind the smiles, nods, and conversations with the people around me.
One hour later, after Elizabeth and John made formal announcements and food was served, I walked toward the end of the buffet table to refill my empty glass with apple juice.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Erin’s sickly-sweet voice bit the air.
Not bothering to turn my head, I replied, “You have your entire life to be a bitch. Why don’t you take the day off?”
“Nice dress. Walmart?” Erin jabbed. “I could give you some styling advice.”
Slowly turning to her, I eyed her plumped lips and Botoxed forehead. “No offense, but I’ll pass. Is your plastic surgeon doing the social media package again?”
“Ooh, social. How’s that going? I saw pictures of Alistair circulating on Instagram and TikTok. It’s nice to know he’s cheating on you again. How does it feel to see your man with other women?”
“Honey, the photos are ancient, before he and I met. Be a little more innovative next time.”
Erin’s brown eyes feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “If you believe we’re clueless about the leaks, that’s cute. We know.”
We glared at each other for a few long seconds before Erin broke the silence with a smile. “You know very well what you’ve done to me,” she said coldly. “Alistair and I were in love until you came along.”
“You’re fucking insane.”
“You’d better watch out,” she said, grabbing my arm. “I’ve taken on a new hobby. Pistol shooting, and I’m quite good at my aim. I get better and better each time I think of you at the center of the target.”
I let out a dry laugh. “You know this counts as assault, right? Imagine how embarrassing it’ll be when I slap you with a restraining order.” I smacked her wrist away, hard.
Erin smirked. “Do you want to know something?”
I rolled my eyes. The woman was a pathological liar. Nothing good came out of her lips.
“Look who came without her husband again?” she pointed out. “Don’t you think it’s odd she turns up to events when Alistair is around? Do you know they’re having an affair?”
I caught a glimpse of the beautiful Bianca Cavalli in an intimate conversation with my handsome boyfriend. She stood out from the crowd in a low-cut lilac dress, revealing a good dose of cleavage. Alistair’s eyes traveled down her breasts, no doubt to get a glimpse. She laughed as he whispered into her ear, and she patted his forearm with affection. They continued their playful exchange while she picked imaginary lint off his shoulder. He looked immaculate as usual, dressed to kill.
“Bianca’s message is clear. She’s telling the world she owns Alistair Scott,” Erin declared.
I faced her, my Louboutins tapping out my impatience. “It’s harmless flirting. Bianca knows Alistair’s taken. I have to ask you something, though. Are you the one behind those media attacks on me?”
She frowned at her shoes, probably feeling inadequate, then placed her hands on her hips. “You’ll have to ask Bianca that question. She’s the media queen. She’s Alistair’s side dish, whether you know it or not. Possibly, even his true and only love.”
“Are you blaming the media smut on Bianca?” I eyed Erin carefully. “I mean, why would she do that to me after investing in the media training? The attacks didn’t come from her magazines or newspapers.”
Erin’s left lip corner twitched. “Bianca likes to keep her enemies close to her. She has control over most of the media in this town.”
“Nope. Even behind bars, Saira Quinn still controls some media groups,” I argued.
“She’s got every reason to hate you. You’re screwing her ex,” Erin sneered.
I gave her a lazy smile. “You’re one to talk. Remind me again who warmed Alistair’s bed before I did?”
She cocked her head, eyes hard. “Are you accusing me of something now?”
“Fuck off, Erin. I’m tired of you.”
She flashed that cold, collagen smile. “Why would I hurt you? We’re family, remember?” She turned away, heels clicking as she stalked back to Camilla, who clung to her nanny.
I let my satisfaction linger. Alistair was mine now, and she hated it. I scanned the room for Oliver, but he’d already slipped out—maybe another headache, or maybe he just couldn’t handle the drama.
“Don’t trust Erin,” a familiar voice said behind me.
I turned. “Elizabeth.”
My heart jumped. How much had she overheard?
She slid her gaze sideways, nodding toward the hallway. “Come with me. There’s a private room where we can talk.”
Elizabeth and I sat in an ornate room with French windows. Snow started to fall on the terrace outside. “How much of the talk did you hear?” I asked, placing my hands on my lap.
“I heard enough,” she said, adjusting her diamond brooch. “I want to talk about my son. I understand he’s told you everything about him.”
I nodded with a frown.
“Alistair trusts you with his secrets, and he trusts you with his life,” she pointed out. “He is in love with you, not Bianca.”
“Yet, he’s attracted to her,” I argued. “Bianca is the first woman Alistair had consensual sex with, and they have a bond.”
“Oh, he loves her.” Elizabeth’s earnest green eyes drilled into mine. “However, he’s not in love with her. They’re friends, and that’s how they will remain. Of course, it’s up to you to decide the fate of their friendship.”
“Up to me?” My voice hitched.
“Yes, Vera. It’s up to you.” Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, she continued, “He would choose you over his closest friends and even his own family if he ever had to make that choice.”
“He won’t have to choose,” I assured.
Elizabeth clutched one of the decorative pillows and toyed with the embroidered design before gazing intently at me again. “Do you trust my son?”
“Yes. Still, I don’t trust everyone in the Scott family. Especially Erin.” I let the pause hang before adding, “And no offense, Oliver.”
“I’ll tell you what happened to Erin years ago.”
“Oh?” I started to see a fierce woman emerge from behind the hospitable façade. Elizabeth was every bit as forthright as I was.
“Did you see her emerald necklace and earrings today?”
“It’s hard not to notice. I can only imagine the cost of them.”
“They’re mine.”
“Why is she wearing them?”
Elizabeth cleared her throat, then squared her shoulders. “Alistair was a college student when he started dating her. She seemed lovely at first sight, but looks are deceiving.”
“Boy, don’t I know it,” I huffed.
“My jewelry went missing over time. At first, I thought it was a new cleaner we had hired, so I fired her. But I found the necklace and earrings in Erin’s car as I sat, waiting for her to give me a lift into town one day.”
“She stole from you?”
“Oh, yes. She sputtered some silly excuse. I persisted in questioning her, commenting that it was ridiculous for the staff to hide jewels in someone else’s car.”
“Did Erin snap at you?”
“She accused me of snooping. All I did was glance at the back seat.”
“Did she apologize to you?”
“She gripped the driver’s wheel, blank and unapologetic.”
“That sounds like Erin,” I said, shaking my head.
“I told her to keep the jewels and stay away from my son.”
“Did you tell anyone else?” I asked.
Only John. He wanted Erin gone. He and Darius Quinn, Saira’s father, already planned an alliance for our companies’ expansion, sealed by marriage between our children.”
“So, he pressured Alistair to break up with Erin?”
Elizabeth nodded, compressing her lips tightly.
“What about Saira and her family?”
“Darius was a pillar of strength and a colossal success,” Elizabeth continued. “Yet, I was suspicious of the rumors about his involvement with illegal businesses. The mafia. His wife passed away when Saira and her younger brother, Nicholas, were children.”
“Saira must have been lonely,” I speculated.
“She had plenty of relatives, but you can never replace the love of a mother.”
“Still, it’s no excuse for what she’s done.”
“Of course not,” Elizabeth agreed. “Saira has known my son since they were children. She and Nick visited us plenty of times. Alistair preferred Nick’s company as they were closer in age.”
“He told me Saira was older.”
“Four years, to be exact,” she said. “As an adult, he dated different women, including Erin, whom he claimed to love. After the incident with my jewels, John persuaded him to leave her and take an interest in Saira.”
“From the frying pan into the fire.” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
Elizabeth did not smile. “When Alistair proposed to Saira, his affection flattered her. She had a penchant for young and energetic men.”
“Alistair never loved her back.” I sighed, rubbing the side of my forehead.
“He was close to Nick,” she said. “He grieved when Nick died in a boating accident in Europe.”
“Alistair said they never found Nick’s body,” I responded. “Do you believe Saira was responsible for the explosion on the boat?”
Elizabeth stared at me. I shook my head at the tangled mess of the Scott-Quinn saga. She broke the stillness by laying one hand over mine.
“Alistair loves Damian, and he loves you. Don’t let anything else matter.”
She rose, her elegance filling the room as she walked away, leaving me alone with the heavy truth of her words, and the reminder that loving Alistair meant inheriting every complication of his life.
Alistair
“Vera, I was looking for you.” I caught her in the foyer, my fingers threading through hers, holding tight, unwilling to let her slip away.
She tried for indifference, but the tension in her eyes betrayed her. “I’m fine.”
I traced her pulse with my thumb. “You’re never fine when you say you’re fine.”
She gave a half-laugh, eyes flicking away. “Erin backed me into a corner tonight. Says you’re screwing Bianca.”
I stepped closer and claimed her hips like I had every right. “You think I’d do that to you?”
She met my gaze with warm, mocha eyes. “Of course not. Do you think I’m that fragile? Erin thrives on drama to deflect from her own mess. I’m not playing her game.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Then what is it? You’re circling something, Vera.”
She hesitated, searching my face for a safe place to land. “It’s not just Erin. She’s loud, but she’s not that smart. The media garbage? It’s Saira. It has to be. That woman’s a psychopath. Dangerous and smart. She can manipulate anyone, even from prison. Erin’s just a mouthpiece. If she’s gassing on about Bianca, it’s because Saira wants her to. This all feels like the quiet before a storm, and I’m done waiting to get blindsided.”
A chill ran through me. Saira was more than vindictive. She was methodical, patient, and always two steps ahead of the game. “That woman will eat you alive if you let her. She’ll twist every word, every look.”
Vera squeezed my hand, steady as stone, mouth curving. “She can’t break me. I survived you, remember? Pretty sure I’m indestructible.”
A reluctant grin tugged at my mouth. “You did more than survive me, love. You ruined me for anyone else.”
She leaned in, close enough to steal my breath. “I need to see Saira alone. She’ll drop her guard and believe she’s in control. Let her think she’s playing cat and mouse. But if you’re there, she’ll put up a wall.”
I cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing her jaw. “You’re asking me to stand back while you walk into a snake pit alone. I don’t know how to do that.”
She softened, brushing her lips against mine. “You already do. You trust me like I trust you. We’re honest with each other.”
“You’re the one, Vera. Full stop. I never gave a damn about being better until you. I want to be the man you deserve.”
She kissed me hard, mouth hungry, hands sliding under my shirt to rake her nails across my skin. I hauled her against me, pinning her hips to mine, feeling her body melt and fight in the same breath. Her scent—jasmine and trouble—filled my head.
She broke away just enough to graze my jaw with her lips. “I know. That’s why I’m doing this. For us.”
I let my hands memorize her waist. “Promise you’ll come back to me. ”
“Always. I find my way back to you every time.”
She eased away, straightening the handbag strap on her shoulder. But before she reached the door, I gently caught her wrist. “Whatever you face in there, you’re never alone. You’re my heart, Vera.”
She pressed her palm to my chest. “Good. Because you’re mine.”
And just like that, she was gone. This time, the ache in my chest felt different. Stronger. Because trusting her wasn’t just an act of faith; it was the only thing that made me feel whole. Vera was my risk—and my reward.
