Page 107 of A Violet Obsession

His thumbs brush my cheekbones with a reverence that makes my chest ache. He covers my face in kisses—slow, deliberate, almost worshipful. My forehead. My temple. The bridge of my nose. The corner of my eye where a tear slips free. My cheek. The other cheek. Each one lingers, as if he’s sealing a promise into my skin.

I’ve never felt so loved. So completely cherished.

I find his lips with mine. I’m not sure which one of us is trembling, or if it’s both of us, but this kiss is full of everything we’ve held back. The relief, fear, joy, the quiet terror of almost losing each other.

“I love you, Finn,” I whisper against his mouth, and he pulls me closer, answering with another soft, lingering kiss. “This not being able to lock them out thing kind of sucks.”

Finn presses his forehead to me, chuckling. “And no condoms.”

“Be sure you pack them for our next disaster, okay?”

“Got it.”

After a minute, I voice my worry. “What do you think she meant when she said I could help them? I don’t know if I can fake being psychic or whatever it is they believe.”

“You won’t have to.” He says fiercely, taking my hand. “I told you, Brady and Vincent will have a plan to get us out.”

I want to believe him.

“What if we do get out? I can barely believe what’s happened. How am I going to prove it to the police? After all this, I really stole it. They are never going to believe me if I say my mind was being controlled.”

“You took it out of the case.” He contradicts me. “You never left the building with it. You put it in the box, and you hid. Technically, you left the premises before it did. Nothing was stolen. It was lost,” he says firmly.

“I don’t think that’s how the law works.” I wrinkle my nose.

His thumb traces my knuckles. “Luke can do a lot with that. One problem at a time. The first one is getting out of here.”

“And Voss?”

“Once Tate has the necklace back, Voss becomes his problem, not ours.”

“It’s almost over?” I ask hopefully.

“Almost.” He says it like a promise, though I know it’s one he might not be able to keep.

We end up on the bed. I feel wrung out from the day, and Finn happily joins me. Hera takes up her new favorite position on Finn’s chest. We don’t talk. We don’t need to. But I feel better just having him there, the solid heat of him alongside me, and if that makes me needy, so be it.

I’m almost asleep when there’s a knock at the door.

Finn is up before I’ve fully registered the sound, a hand up telling me silently to stay back. I stand next to the bed as he crosses to the door. He doesn’t open it right away. He stands with one palm flat against it, listening, and only when whatever he hears satisfies him does he try the door.

It's been unlocked.

A stranger stands on the other side.

He’s not dressed in linen like everyone else here. He’s handsome, wearing dark jeans and a charcoal button-down, the effortlessly stylish casual that costs more than my rent.

“Ms. Jenkins.” His eyes find me past Finn’s shoulder, then return to Finn. “Mr. Markham, I’m Noah. Richard Tate’s grandson.” A pause. “I would have been here earlier, but I only received word a few hours ago of what my grandfather had done.”

Finn doesn’t move out of the doorway. He doesn’t say anything either. He just gives Noah a flat look. Noah waits, not saying anything, holding Finn’s stare.

“I want to apologize,” Noah finally says. “Can I come in?”

Finn glances back at me. I nod. He steps aside just enough to let him pass. Noah walks into the room with an unhurried ease.

“The way my men brought you here—” Noah begins.

“You hired the guards?”