Chapter 83: I’m not letting anyone else drive it.

I meet his eyes.

"I’m not going to regret letting Nerissa pull that trigger."

Jeremiah studies me.

"You’re really serious about her."

I don’t answer immediately.

I think about Nerissa standing in front of all those men.

The gun in her hand, the way she didn’t hesitate.

She’s not like the women I’ve known.

She can handle it.

Maybe that’s what scares me or maybe that’s what draws me to her.

Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s my wife and anyone who touches her answers to me.

"I made my decision."

Jeremiah sighs.

He drags a hand through his hair.

"Whatever happens...I have your back."

I nod once.

"I know."

Jeremiah turns toward the door.

Then pauses.

"Still think you’re crazy."

I almost smile.

"Get the fuck out of my office, Jerrimaih"

He chuckles under his breath and leaves.

The door closing behind him.

I down at the documents on my desk.

Then toward the door and I pick up my pen again.

There is still too much work to do.

——————-

Days Later>>>>>><<<<<<

Nerissa’s POV

Today is the day. The birthday celebration of some minister whose name I have already forgotten.

Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the man turning another year older.

I couldn’t care less about the politicians, the expensive champagne, or the ridiculous number of people who would be pretending to like one another while secretly planning each other’s downfall.

Okay, perhaps I care a little about the champagne.

But that’s beside the point.

I’m excited.

Actually, excited doesn’t even begin to describe it. I’m practically vibrating with anticipation because, for the first time since coming to Spain, I’ll get to see Cassian again.

I wouldn’t tell him but I miss him terribly. I haven’t been away from him this long before.

I haven’t seen him in what feels like forever, and although we’ve spoken on the phone, it’s not the same as having him in front of me. I want to see his face, hear his voice without a phone separating us, and tell him everything that’s happened since I married Lysander.

Well, almost everything.

I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to explain the part where I shot a man in the head in front of my husband’s men.

Knowing Cassian, he’ll probably ask why I didn’t shoot him somewhere more convenient.

That man has a questionable understanding of what constitutes a normal conversation.

Still, I miss him.

I miss Olivia too, but at least I can send her pictures and messages whenever I want. With Cas it’s different.

And today, I’ll finally see him.

I glance at myself in the mirror and grin.

A few days ago, Isabella dragged me shopping.

She insisted that we needed dresses. Dresses that would make people stare.

And I have to admit that the girl knows what she’s doing.

The dress hanging on my body is a masterpiece.

It’s a bright, vibrant red that looks almost sinful against my skin. The material hugs my curves before falling elegantly to the floor, and the back dips so low that the fabric ends just above the small of my back.

It’s exquisite.....Sexy without being vulgar and elegant without being boring.

And the color? It’ss Perfect.

I turn sideways in front of the mirror, examining the way the dress fits.

I reach for my lipstick.

I go for a bright red shade. If I’m going to wear a red dress, I might as well commit to the entire look.

I carefully apply it, press my lips together, and inspect my reflection.

Satisfied, I pick up my burner phone for a quick picture.

One angle then another.

I settle on the best one and send it to Olivia.

Me: *Tell me I look good.*

Her reply comes almost immediately.

Olivia: *You look gorgeous! Omg!.*

I smile.

Another message follows.

Olivia: *Is that for Lysander?*

My smile disappears as I stare at the screen.

Me: *It’s for the minister’s birthday.*

Olivia: *I didn’t ask where you’re going. I asked who you’re dressing up for.*

I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck.

Me: *Goodbye, Oli.*

She sends a laughing emoji.

I lock the phone and toss it onto the bed.

My sister has always been irritatingly observant.

There is absolutely no reason for me to be thinking about Lysander while getting dressed.

None.

The fact that he’s my husband is irrelevant, the fact that he’s annoyingly handsome is also irrelevant.

Completely irrelevant.

I grab my purse and head for the door.

Then I check the time.

"Oh, shit."

I’m late.

I hurry into the hallway, carefully navigating the heels Isabella insisted would complete the outfit.

They are beautiful but they are also instruments of torture.

I take the stairs slowly, one hand sliding along the railing while I concentrate on not breaking my neck.

The last thing I need is to arrive at a minister’s birthday party with a broken ankle.

Especially when I’m supposed to be making a good impression.

By the time I reach the ground floor outside, I’m already tired from the heels.

Then I stop.

Lysander is standing beside a car.

Not just any car.

It’s a shiny, silver beauty that looks as though it belongs in a museum rather than outside a private mansion.

The lights catch its polished body, highlighting every smooth curve and elegant line.

I stare at it, then at him then back at the car.

Where is our actual ride?

I glance around, half expecting a driver to appear from somewhere with a perfectly ordinary black SUV.

Nobody does.

Lysander notices me.

His gaze travels over my dress, his eyes linger on my face before moving down the length of my body.

Then he looks back at me.

"Ready?"

I blink.

"Where’s our ride?"

He glances at the car beside him.

"This is our ride."

I raise an eyebrow.

"You’re driving yourself?"

"Of course."

He says it as though I’ve just asked whether the sky is blue.

I look at the car again.

"But why?"

His expression becomes almost offended.

"Because this is a Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR Uhlenhaut Coupé, and I’m not letting anyone else drive it."

"That sentence explained absolutely nothing to me."

His mouth twitches as he walks around the front of the car and opens the passenger door.

"Get in, Nerissa."