Nicholas
For the first time in thirty-nine days, there were no legal briefs sitting on the passenger seat of my car. There were no armed security convoys tailing us, no PR handlers managing leaks, and no hidden lenses flickering from the bushes.
Just Faith and me in the quiet, leather-scented cabin of my vintage Jaguar E-Type—a car I hadn't driven since before Isabella died.
I glanced across the center console at Faith. She wore a simple emerald green silk dress that complemented the rich, warm brown of her eyes, her dark hair pinned up softly to avoid pressing against her bandaged shoulder. She was looking out the window at the passing city lights, a subtle, peaceful smile resting on her lips.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a nervous teenager’s. I had orchestrated hostile corp
