Page 180 of His Ruthless Match

The foreman stood, clearing his throat as he handed a folded piece of paper to the judge. My heart pounded in my chest, but I kept my face impassive. Jareth, seated in the gallery behind me, wasn’t as composed. I could feel his intense energy radiating forward like a protective barrier. He’d been my biggest cheerleader throughout this entire ordeal, sitting through every session, even if he spent more time muttering threats about my opposing counsel than paying attention to the arguments. He believed in me, and that belief had become my anchor.

The judge unfolded the paper, adjusting his glasses. “In the matter of Genevieve Witt versus Cerulean Innovations, the jury rules in favor of the plaintiff.”

A rush of relief swept through me, but I didn’t let it show. I turned to Genevieve, whose eyes filled with tears as she gripped my hand. Her gratitude was palpable, and I squeezed her hand tightly, giving her the reassurance she deserved.

Theo and Nadia ran from the front row and wrapped us in hugs.

“You really slayed this one, boss,” Theo said as he propped his hand on his hip. “I’ve never been so proud of youoryour outfit selection. Seriously, slaying.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m so glad I have you to take notice of the important things in life, Theo.”

As the courtroom emptied, Jareth made his way toward me. His eyes sparkled with mischief and pride. “Told you they didn’t stand a chance.”

I laughed softly. “You’re acting likeyouwon the case, Jareth.”

“I didn’t have to. You had it handled. But I’m still going to take partial credit for moral support.”

Genevieve joined us, wiping her tears with a tissue. “Eva, I don’t even know how to thank you,” she said, her voice shaky. “You’ve given me a chance to rebuild everything.”

“You deserve it, Genevieve,” I said firmly. “But this is just the start. We still need to be strategic moving forward. No more mentions of the magical side of things—nothing about Izo, the rat, or anything that happened behind the scenes. Focus on what you want: new marketing deals, a fresh movie contract. Let’s give people a reason to focus on your talent again.”

Genevieve nodded, determination glinting in her eyes. “Whatever it takes. I’m ready to fight for my reputation.”

As we left the courthouse, I glanced up at the sky. I had reconciled so much of my life recently—my human ambition with my supernatural heritage, the newfound magic simmering beneath my skin with the courtroom logic I’d spent years mastering. For the first time, I felt whole. My intuition, sharper than ever since becoming Jareth’s mate, had become one of my greatest assets. I felt unstoppable, and for once, I could thank my father for something worthwhile. His fae blood might have been a burden, but it had also given me an edge.

Later that evening, back at my apartment, I found Jareth in a heated debate with Grelth over the proper temperature to cook a steak.

“I’m telling you, medium rare is perfection,” Jareth argued, his arms crossed over his chest. “Anything more than that, and you’re wasting a good cut of meat.”

Grelth snorted, waving a spatula like a weapon. “It depends on the quality of the steak, Master Jareth. Not all of us can afford to burn money on prime cuts like you.”

Jareth and I split our time at my apartment and his cottage in The Below. We rarely left each other’s side, with him focusing mostly on contracts that were quick and mostly painless, while I scheduled my court cases and time in the office around Jareth’s schedule. It wasn’t always perfect, but we made it work. For each other.

I leaned against the doorway, stifling a laugh as I watched them bicker. “Am I interrupting something important?” I asked, making my presence known.

Jareth’s gaze snapped to me, his expression softening instantly. “Always,” he said with a grin. “But I’ll allow it.”

I stepped forward, pulling a large package from behind my back. It was wrapped in plain brown paper. “I have something for you,” I said, holding it out to him.

Jareth tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “What’s this?” he asked, strutting across the room to take it from my hands. His fingers brushed mine as he grabbed it, sending a spark of warmth through my skin.

“Open it and find out,” I said, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.

He tore into the wrapping with the enthusiasm of a child on their birthday, and when the paper fell away, his mouth hung open in shock. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the painting in his hands.

“I can’t fucking believe it. It’s… the painting,” he said finally, his voice thick with awe. “The one from the courthouse. How…?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, though my heart was swelling at his reaction. “I pulled some strings. Turns out I have a few connections over there.”

Jareth handed the painting to Grelth, who immediately scurried off to find a safe place for it, then pulled me into a kiss. “Thank you,” he murmured against my lips. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You deserve it,” I whispered, my hands resting on his chest. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

He pulled back, his eyes scanning the walls of my penthouse. “Now, where to hang it…?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think it really fits my aesthetic. Maybe it’s better suited for your cottage.”

“Fine,” he said with a dramatic sigh, though I could see the mischief in his eyes. “I’ll take it off your hands.”