Page 132 of Hit Man

He shakes his head, growing more serious. “I’m the only thing getting inside you. Come on. Open it.” He takes my naughty thong box away so I can focus on the second large box, also wrapped up with more tape than wrapping paper.

As I work my way through the tape, I can’t help notice the change in Diego. So serious. Almost humble. Like whatever his gift to me is, it means something to him as well.

Finally, I’m able to tear open the lid.

Architect paper. Pens and erasers. A notebook.

“So you can expand on your initial plans.”

I blink. He knows me so well, how determined I am to get my project underway. The car washes and bake sales and my meetings with suitable, reliable investors. It’s a slow process when I’m desperate for things to move quicker. I’m learning to be patient, and persistent.

“Open the other box.”

I stare at him. “Another one?”

He nods.

I dig beneath the paper and find the third box. “How much tape did you go through?” I say as I dig into present number three. Seems we had the same thing in mind with multigifting.

Tearing off the top, I peer inside.

Only to spy . . . an envelope.

I retrieve it and carefully open it. There’s a piece of paper inside with my name at the top.

Aubrey June Hamilton

Organization: Hamilton Homes for the Disadvantaged

Wait a second. Is this a real organization? Did Diego . . . I glance down at the next line and completely lose my train of thought.

Dollar amount—what?

“Two million dollars?” I ask, my hands shaking. “What is this?”

“Exactly as it says. I’ll be damned if you end up working for another crook. I want you to open up your own Architects Beyond Borders. Hire a team of like-minded do-gooders to work with you. You’re clear to work safely in Mexico City . . . you can stay at my apartment even when I’m off at work . . .”

Diego already approached Maxwell about returning my ten-thousand-dollar investment. It was wired into my bank account literally the same day they’d met.

“I needed time to bring my boss around to my way of thinking. Surprisingly, he liked the idea and has offered money and support. I suppose growing up in poverty has appealed to his desire to give back. If you can inspire that man’s do-good nature, you’ve already taken your first step toward success.”

Oh. My. God. Two million dollars.

“I can invest some of it and use the dividends to finance initial construction. I’ll do what you suggest, create my own nonprofit organization, and sponsor other do-gooders in a pay-to-work program that is actually legitimate.”

And I know just the family who will benefit first. I’ve been sending letters and money to Margarita’s family. Now I can follow through on my promise and catch up on lost time.

My mind races with the possibilities. I’m so caught up in the wonderful present, one that genuinely will keep on giving, that I jump when Diego clears his throat.

My attention shifts to him.

He’s leaning back on his arms and smiling up at me. Happy he’s made me happy. I’ve never seen a more beautiful man. And I’ve never loved anyone so fiercely, so completely.

“Before you officially register your business, you might want to reconsider the name. How does Aubrey Hamilton-Romerosound?”

I blink. Seriously? Has he just asked me to marry him?

My life might never be peaceful. A life with him is guaranteed to be action-packed. Passionate. Explosive.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

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