Page 182 of Titus

This wasn’t about me being guilty. This was only about those dickheads starting a war between us.

I kept my eyes locked on the agent. “Who filed this?”

The agent remained silent.

That’s a fucking interesting response.

Men in this position almost always responded by immediately claiming innocence. Instead, I was asking where the goddamn attack originated.

The agent’s hesitation told me everything I needed to know. Someone had spent a long time building a case and orchestrating this. It was obvious to me that it was Christian Jameston. That was why the cocky bastard had a smile on his face the first night I was face-to-face with him.

I smiled at the realization that the slimy bastard had actually made it this far with everything.

The agent frowned. “You find this amusing?”

“No.” I shook my head and sighed. “I find it expensive.”

Cat moved beside me, and when I looked at her, the sadness and fear in her eyes nearly broke me.

I reached for her hand and held it. “Listen to me carefully.”

“Titus—”

“Listen, preciosa.”

Her red, puffy eyes immediately filled with tears.

I lowered my voice.

“This isn’t the end of anything,” I said to reassure her, but mostly to reassure myself.

The agent shifted. “We need to leave.”

I ignored him. “My head of security is on his way to you now,” I said as I brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

I watched as understanding immediately flashed across her face.

“I love you,” she said, my heart constricting at hearing those words, even though I truly believed she was questioning the emotion after I told her what I could.

“I love you beyond words, mi amor,” I answered.

I reached for her, then stopped myself.

God help me. If I kissed her right now, I wasn’t sure I’d ever let go. Suddenly, the charges didn’t matter. Being handcuffed and hauled away didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the woman standing in front of me.

Three days ago, she told me she loved me. Last night, I fell asleep holding her after we discussed where we’d eat breakfast on our drive back home.

And now I was standing here, trying to memorize her face, knowing it might be the last time I saw it for a while.

Jesus Christ. Nothing prepares you for this moment. Not power, wealth, or success.

Nothing prepares a man for the possibility of losing the woman he loves.

“Jim is aware,” I told her. “If you are able, you might find some peace with his wife and the rest of the ladies while I’m gone.”

She nodded and sniffed.