Page 120 of What Doesn't Kill You…

Violet wet her lips and her hands flexed in his.

"I'm going to keep him," she said.

EPILOGUE

Two months later

Max's apartment

Toronto, Canada

Max woke with the feeling he was being suffocated. As usual, Violet had climbed on board while he'd been asleep. He smiled into the darkness. No matter which position they started the night in, this was always how they ended up.

He ran his hands down the silken skin of her back to curve around her perfectly formed rear. Bliss. In fact, life was pretty much perfect, although, he'd never use that word around Violet. She'd banned it after Wedding Island.

His articles on Damien and his politician partner had been syndicated in newspapers throughout Canada and the US. Everyone knew exactly who Damien Poole was now. Sure, he would have liked for him to spend the rest of his life shamed, dethroned, and locked up tight, but destroying his legacy was a good second best. Watching the investigation into his partner was quite satisfying too. Although, in typical politician fashion, he was spinning a tale of his innocence at every turn. Unfortunately for him, evidence was mounting. The man was going down.

Max smiled with satisfaction.

Violet moaned in complaint. "You're thinking about them again," she said, her voice filled with sleep. "You've got a death grip on my arse and you're smiling."

"Sorry." He relaxed his grip and soothed her skin with careful strokes.

She snuggled closer and nuzzled his throat.

"You got in late last night," he said, breathing her deep.

One of the biggest changes Violet had made to his apartment was that it was now filled with her scent. It was everywhere. And it was wonderful. Apart from that, she hadn't done much to make herself at home. Violet didn't have a lot of belongings. She left her mark in other ways.

He glanced at the ring on his left hand. He'd had it resized, so it'd never fall off again. That sucker was staying with him, even in death.

"Stupid corporate espionage job," she said lazily, threading her fingers through his hair. No matter how much it irritated him, he resisted the urge to cut it because Violet loved the length.

"I can't believe you guys are taking jobs when you don't even have an office yet."

"Your fault," she complained. "All the publicity has people falling over themselves to hire us."

"They want the best."

She snorted. "They're dazzled by the fame of the Benson Security name. It's pathetic."

He traced the curve of her shoulder. "You know," he said. "You still haven't told me you love me."

"What makes you think I do?" she challenged.

"Well, your mum for a start. She told me what the flowers meant, the ones you chose for our wedding."

She stilled against him. "They meant nothing," she lied.

"Orange roses for fascination, Gladiolas for protection from death, pink Camellias for longing, and Baby's Breath for everlasting love. I could go on, but I forget the rest. I have it written down somewhere. Even back then, right at the beginning, you were crazy about me. When are you going to admit it? When are you going to tell me you love me?"

She stirred, leaning up to look at him. "I'm holding the words hostage," she said.

Max smiled. This he had to hear. "Is that right?"

"Yeah." She frowned. "You make it through a year without running off into danger like a freaking lemming and I'll say the words."

He rolled his eyes. "You make one mistake…"