Page 34 of Sly Like a Fox (Romance Expected Dating Service #3)

“I had some very good luck.” I catch Fenton’s attention across the room and receive his warm smile in return.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. You found someone who appreciates your particular talents instead of being threatened by them.” She follows my gaze toward Fenton, who’s currently charming a group of lawyers with what appears to be a perfectly innocent conversation about evidence analysis techniques.

“Though I have to ask, are you actually happy? Really happy, not just financially stable and professionally successful?”

The question catches me unexpectedly with its directness, but I don’t have to think about my answer.

“Yes. I’m really happy. Not because of the money or the success, though those are nice, but because I wake up every morning excited to work with him, to solve problems together, and to build something that actually matters. ”

“Good.” She nods once in clear approval. “You deserve someone who sees your fox shifter cunning as an asset instead of a liability.”

As the evening winds down, and guests begin departing with promises to refer clients and collaborate on future cases, I’m standing alone with Fenton in our empty office space. The catering has been cleared away, and the silence feels both peaceful and full of possibility.

Fenton settles into one of the chairs we’ve arranged for client consultations. “How does it feel to be a legitimate businesswoman?”

I perch on the edge of his desk and survey our professional domain. “Surreal. Six months ago, if someone had told me I’d be running a consulting firm that helps crime victims, I’d have assumed they were either lying or hallucinating.”

He nods. “If someone had told me I’d be planning a future that involved joint tax returns and shared business insurance, I’d have thought they were describing someone else’s life entirely.”

“Do you miss it?” The question has been nagging at me for weeks as we’ve settled into increasingly normal routines. “The adrenaline, the elaborate schemes, and the satisfaction of taking down a truly deserving target?”

Fenton considers the question with a thoughtful expression.

“I miss the clarity of having a single, specific mission. Something was appealingly simple about focusing all my energy on destroying Garret Anklor.” He pauses, studying my face.

“I don’t miss the isolation or the constant vigilance or the way revenge consumed everything else in my life. ”

“Even when our current cases involve tracking down embezzling office managers instead of infiltrating criminal masterminds’ inner circles?”

He nods without hesitation. “Especially then. Helping Mrs. Chase recover her life savings from that Ponzi scheme operator was just as satisfying as taking down Anklor but without the emotional cost of planning someone’s destruction for three years.”

I understand what he means. Our legitimate cases provide the satisfaction of our previous criminal activities but with the added benefit of sleeping well at night and building something positive instead of just tearing down corruption.

Fenton’s grin suggests he’s been saving his next observation. “Besides, we’re not exactly operating within traditional consulting parameters. Last month, you convinced that embezzling city clerk to confess by pretending to be a forensic accountant from the state attorney’s office.”

“That was calculated roleplaying for the greater good,” I protest, though the memory of my performance still makes me proud, “And it worked. The veterans’ charity got their money back, and the clerk received appropriate consequences for his actions.”

He chuckles. “I’m not criticizing. I’m pointing out that we’ve found a way to channel our particular talents toward positive outcomes without sacrificing the creativity that makes this work interesting.”

He’s absolutely right. Our consulting business allows us to use every skill we developed during our individual criminal careers—social engineering, surveillance, financial investigation, and deception—but in service of helping people rather than purely selfish goals.

That we occasionally bend legal boundaries in pursuit of justice feels like a reasonable compromise with our reformed criminal consciences.

We sit quietly for a moment, thinking about this weird journey from elaborate criminal schemes to actually running a business.

It hasn’t been smooth, since we’re still figuring out things like insurance and taxes and client confidentiality rules, but that partnership we built while taking down Anklor is stronger than ever.

I slide off the desk to stand directly in front of his chair, suddenly needing to voice something I’ve been thinking about for weeks. “Fenton? I need to tell you something important.”

His expression immediately becomes alert, reading the seriousness in my tone. “What is it?”

“I’m happy. Really, genuinely happy in a way I’ve never been before.” The words feel both simple and profound. “Not because we’re successful or because our business is thriving or because we found a way to use our criminal skills for good purposes, though all of that is wonderful.”

“Then why?”

“Because I wake up every morning excited to work with you, to solve problems together, and build something that matters.” I reach for his hands, marveling at how natural the gesture has become.

“Because you see all the worst parts of me, including the cunning and the selfishness and the tendency to bend rules when convenient, and you love me anyway.”

“Those aren’t the worst parts of you.” His tone carries complete conviction.

“Those are survival strategies you developed to protect yourself in a world that didn’t appreciate your intelligence or your ambition.

Now you get to use those same qualities to help people who need exactly the creative advocacy you provide. ”

The observation makes my eyes sting with tears. For years, I believed my fox shifter instincts were character flaws that needed to be hidden or managed. Fenton was the first person to see them as valuable assets that could be channeled toward positive purposes.

“I love you.” The words carry all the gratitude and amazement I feel about our unlikely partnership.

“I love you, too. Even when you reorganize my surveillance equipment without asking and leave fox hair on all my favorite sweaters.”

I lean down to kiss him with passion that’s only grown stronger as our relationship has evolved from fake engagement to genuine partnership. “Especially then, though I still say your surveillance setup was inefficiently organized before I improved it.”

“Our surveillance setup,” he corrects against my lips. “Which you’ve optimized significantly, though I maintain the motion sensors don’t need to be quite so sensitive.”

“The motion sensors are calibrated perfectly for detecting unauthorized access to client files.”

“The motion sensors are calibrated to detect unauthorized access to the coffee machine.”

We dissolve into laughter at the ridiculousness of our professional domestic disputes, and I realize this is what happiness looks like for people like us.

Not conventional romantic bliss, but the deep satisfaction of finding someone who appreciates your unconventional talents and shares your commitment to using them constructively.

As we lock up our office and head home to the apartment we’ve decorated with a mixture of thrift store finds and high-end electronics, I think about the future we’re building together.

Next month, we’re expanding our client base to include victims of online fraud.

Next year, we’re considering opening a second location to serve surrounding counties.

In five years, who knows what creative solutions we’ll have developed for problems that don’t exist yet.

Our neighborhood bustles with the energy of people heading home from work or out for dinner.

We look like any other young professional couple walking hand in hand, discussing our day and planning our evening.

Nobody would guess our briefcases contain surveillance equipment along with legal documents, or our casual conversation includes references to money laundering investigations and creative asset recovery strategies.

Fenton speaks as we wait for the crosswalk signal. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if Red had matched us with different people?”

The question makes me consider alternative timelines where I might have successfully seduced a conventional wealthy businessman while Fenton pursued his revenge mission with a different accomplice.

Those imaginary scenarios feel hollow and unsatisfying compared to the reality we’ve created together.

“I think we would have been much less interesting people.” The light changes and we cross toward our building. “And much less happy.”

“Agreed. I suspect Red knew exactly what she was doing when she introduced us.”

“Red definitely knew exactly what she was doing. The woman has supernatural instincts for matching people who need what the other can provide.”

He grins. “Lucky for us.”

I squeeze his hand. “Lucky for everyone, considering how our match turned out to benefit all our clients and colleagues, too.”

Back in our apartment, we settle into our evening routine of reviewing case files while sharing takeout Thai food and debating the relative merits of various investigation techniques.

It’s domestic and professional and slightly criminal all at once—exactly the life I never knew I wanted until I found someone who could share it with me.

As Fenton reviews financial records on his laptop while absently feeding me pad Thai noodles, I think about how completely my life has been transformed.

The desperate woman who walked into Romance Expected so long ago was focused entirely on finding someone to solve her financial problems. She never imagined finding someone who would help her solve other people’s problems while building something meaningful together.

Fenton notices my contemplative expression. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just...all of this. How different everything is from what I planned.”

“Better or worse?”

“Infinitely better, though I reserve the right to occasionally miss the simplicity of just stealing things from people who deserved it.”

His expression turns mock-serious. “We can arrange for some recreational wealth redistribution if you start feeling nostalgic. I’m sure plenty of corrupt businessmen could use our attention.”

My lips quirk upward as I nod in agreement. “Ninety percent legitimate, remember?”

He laughs. “Exactly…which leaves ten percent for creative interpretation of asset recovery protocols.”

“I love how you make embezzlement sound like a professional service.”

Fenton’s crooked smile still makes my pulse accelerate every time he flashes it. “I prefer ‘aggressive debt collection on behalf of underrepresented creditors.’”

I can’t hold back a laugh, and I’m smiling when I finally manage to say, “That’s even better. We should put that on our business cards.”

We fall asleep that night planning impossible schemes and legitimate business strategies with equal enthusiasm, and I drift off thinking about how perfectly our criminal minds complement each other in both professional and personal contexts.

We’re just two reformed con artists who found love while taking down a corrupt businessman and decided to make that combination the foundation of everything that comes next.

If our creative solutions occasionally involve methods that wouldn’t pass strict legal scrutiny, well, nobody’s perfect. We’re just perfectly matched.

Thank you SO MUCH for reading SLY LIKE A FOX!