Page 166 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim

Dorian:Please, little one.

Then he follows up with:We’ll have dinner tonight. Talk, if you want.

Brennan follows the thread:We’ll let you choose the restaurant.

Heartbreakingly that makes me smile a little. We often disagree about where to go. I like a couple of nearby places that are locally owned, and we dress casually. But Dorian is gearing up for his run for office, and he likes to be seen.

The last one comes from Dorian.Don’t shut us out.Please.

I’m not sure why, but that’s the one that undoes me. Maybe because I’m not accustomed to hearing anything emotional from him.

When we arrive at the vet clinic, the driver opens my door. I offer a forced smile. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“No hurry at all, ma’am.”

“I’ve got a book to keep me occupied.”And to explain why I’m carrying a tote bag.

“Good plan.”

Gripping the sling tightly, I enter the clinic.

Inside, the receptionist is distracted by a barking lab mix. Perfect. I keep my head down, duck past the front desk, and head toward the back hall.

The service exit is just where I remember. The door opens with a squeak?—

“Ma’am? Do you need help?”

I don’t look back. I just keep going.

Metal and sunlight collide as I slip into the alley and freedom. Not taking the time to slow down, I hurry to the next block.

As planned, the rideshare is waiting.

I slide in, breathless, and I give him the address of my apartment complex on Wheeler Street.

The driver turns up the music he’s been listening to and doesn’t say anything, which is exactly what I need.

As he drives, I keep looking out the rear window.

How long will it be before they catch up to me?

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Dorian

I’m one wrong breath from losing my fucking mind.

I’ve studied the same paragraph six times, and I haven’t read a single word. It’s some bullshit about campaign media compliance and third-party expenditures. I should care. Should flag the clause about PAC donations. Should call. Should do anything other than sit here like a ghost haunting my own office.

Shoving back from my desk, I plow my hand into my hair.

Last night’s events claw at me, playing on an endless, hopeless loop.

After Isla had gone into her private office, I’d wanted to follow her, and Brennan placed himself in front of me, blocking me.

Eventually he talked me into giving her a few minutes to herself.

An hour or so later, I exhaled in relief when I heard thedoor open and caught a glimpse of her moving toward our room. And our bed.