They’d relocated to one of the master bedrooms in the house, had showered and he’d fucked her again, hard and slow, had kissed her reverently, kissed the weeping red crescent of his teeth, kissed her chin and her nose and her lips, each eyelid, and for a time, the sound of his breath was the only thing in the world.

Now she rolled to her side, propping her head up to watch him as he sat on the edge of the giant bed, raking fingers through his dark hair, his back to her. Other men would have still been lounging against the pillow, snoring softly or working up the energy to rouse themselves, but not him. Once he’d slipped from her body, his mind would already be onto the next thing: the next case, the next trial, the next big thing.

Grayson pushed his feet and turned, finding and shaking out his shirt, slipping his arms through the sleeves before speaking.

“My brother is going to be mayor.”

His voice held a note of uncharacteristic somberness, and Vanessa bit her lip, thinking of the endless gossip of the night. Whispers don’t matter, and you can’t let them.

“I think you mean he’s running for mayor, don’t you?” He looked askance in her direction as he re-fastened his shirt buttons, and she laughed. “I know, I know . . . how dare I insinuate that a Hemming not be given exactly what they want the moment they want it, presented on a silver platter to the adulation of all adoring onlookers.”

“My brother is going to be mayor,” he repeated again, a peevish note entering his voice, and that time, she’d sat up.

There was a tense set to his shoulders, a clench in his square jaw — tiny tics of aggravation and stress as she watched him pull his tailored pants back up over his hips. She sighed as his perfect ass was concealed, the tails of the expensive dress shirt smoothed beneath the waistband.

“You know, people can think what they want, but my dad avoided office so that we could have normal lives growing up, you know? So that we didn’t have to grow up the way he did. But now . . .”

The breath of frustration he’d blown out was another uncharacteristic tic, and when he’d sat heavily on the bed once more, Vanessa scrambled to her knees to wrap her arms around his neck. “Fucking Jackson.”

“Okay, so Jackson is going to be mayor. What does that mean? What does that mean for you?”

He shrugged, “That’s yet to be seen, but things are going to change. More scrutiny, definitely. No more of these parties, that’s for sure. It’s already started.”

She wrinkled her nose at his words. “I don’t think you need to do that. Everybody knows what you do, who you are. Everyone is already watching. Why does anything need to change?”

He turned to her with a scowl, rolling his eyes.

“Come on, Nessa, you know better than that. Once he’s mayor, it’s not going to be long until they’re pestering me to take the bench. Time to step up. Keep my nose clean, do the whole model suburban

family thing.”

He’d pushed to his feet once more, and she watched him smoothing the crisp material of the shirt, adjusting his cuffs and collar until his reflection in the mirror had been returned to glossy, superficial perfection. Her stomach flipped and tightened, unsure of the insinuation behind his words.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, for starters, it means a sitting judge won’t be able to fuck around with an associate from his old firm.”

Her face had heated, fists balling in the sheets, the desire to throw something at him overwhelming.

“Wait, this is because I’m not a partner? I’m not going to be an associate forever, you asshole.

What the fuck is this, a job interview?! The wound he’d left on her shoulder pulsed as her blood boiled. Fire flooded her veins, and then she had thrown something at him, but the pillow’s strike had been less than satisfying.

It’s not going to be long until they’re pestering me to take the bench. His words jogged something, something that had annoyed her, just out of mind . . . A wheel began to turn in her mind, the pieces of a bigger puzzle slotting into place around the shape of them in the center.

“Why is Tris Tatterswain here?”

“What?” His voice held a note of aggravation, too distracted to process her question for a moment.

“Tris Tatterswain has been on my father’s payroll for years. He’s harmless. He’s a shitstarter and he knows everything about everyone, but he’s harmless. For us.”

Grayson does look so good on camera. Anything Jackson, Grayson did bigger. It was his main ambition, his biggest weakness, his main point of malleability. Jack Hemming was setting his sons up like dominos, she thought, playing a very long game from his shining, golden tower on Main Street.

It’s paving the road up for the next generation. If anyone actually thinks Jack has been resting on his laurels all these years, they’ve not been paying attention.

“Well, I don’t think you should take the bench. You’re a trial lawyer. You love litigation.”

“I will stop hating this job as soon as I can take something to trial. You know me far too well.”

She smiled at his reflection, blood thrumming in her veins.

“Good, because you need to stay where you are for a while, get bigger experience, outside of civil work. Jackson is going to be stuck in place for what? Four years? Eight years? That’s plenty of time for us to move you into something bigger. We just have to start working on your image. You need to start leaving your trial voice in the courtroom. No more making interns cry.”

“You’re awfully interested in my five-year plan, rabbit. Planning on sticking around that long?”

“Are you planning on marrying me?”

He’d looked up, meeting her eye in the mirror with his quicksilver smile.

“You think you could hack that?”

She wasn’t ready to stop running. She had no desire to tame her inner wolf, no matter how fucking stupid she was over him every single month, no desire to change anything at all, aside from the last few months. Either a broken heart or a spring wedding, and both options sound ghastly. There was only one path that led to keeping him though, and she’d rather follow it with him, and let a bit of her freedom go, than be lost without him again.

“Are you insinuating I couldn’t? Maybe I want to put the Hemming name back above the door at Dormir and Shrike. You don’t think I’m capable of playing nice and smiling for the local paper? You think this town is that fucking hard to maneuver? They think your mom is scary? Wait till they get a load of me.”

He spun, his rolling laughter making her flush in a fury, until he’d leaned a knee on the bed, pushing into her space until he could press his lips to her forehead.

“Let’s not go making plans to firebomb the community center just yet, rabbit. We can talk about tomorrow, tomorrow.”

“Gray . . . ?”

“Tell me what you need, babydoll.”

“Are you going to get tired of me if you’re not chasing?”

His lips were gentle against hers, reminding her that she could’ve never conjured his kiss in her imagination.

“Maybe I’m tired of running, Vanessa. And you can try to run, rabbit, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No, it doesn’t.” He gave her the sharpest smile he’d graced her with since the very first day he’d walked in late to her interview. “You belong to me. And I’d like to meet the wolf with the fucking audacity to try and take you from me.”

“Good,” she whispered as he looked himself over in the mirror a final time, leaving her naked on the bed. “And you’re still taking me to Bora Bora, asshole.”

Her eyes followed him as he left the room, the deep rumble of his laughter trailing in his wake.

They weren’t magically fixed, she knew, and they would need to have a long talk, an actual discussion