Her head hit the pillow, she crashed.

But Nick lay with her pressed against him, staring at the ceiling, knowing the time had come for him to get shit done.

He lay there knowing it and wondering how the fuck he was going to get her safe and free.

He lay there knowing it, needing to do it, and also knowing he’d spent a weekend with his woman in Vegas, two two-hour plane rides where they weren’t fucking, eating, drinking, whispering about important shit or having fun, and he still had not come clean about where he was with her when they began.

It was good they’d had Vegas. She was relaxing into what they had. She was believing. She was trusting.

Tomorrow.

That shit had to come out tomorrow.

They’d needed Vegas.

Now it was time.

Nick had learned a lot since sorting his head and his life.

Unfortunately, the last lesson would be the hardest.

That lesson being he shouldn’t procrastinate.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Brightside

Olivia

10:23 – Monday Morning

I was coasting into the parking area around the warehouse when my phone rang. I saw on my dash computer it was Nick so I took the call as I guided my Evoque to a spot.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“What are you doin’ at the warehouse?” he asked curtly in reply.

He still had a man following me.

His men had to have better things to do. Not to mention it was expensive to waste one following me everywhere.

And having one tail me was a reminder of why I needed to be tailed, which wasn’t pleasant.

I would be glad when those days were at an end.

“Georgia texted,” I began to explain. Having glided into a spot, I threw it in park. “Wanted a meet. Her schedule today is such she couldn’t get to me, so I’m coming to her.”

“My guy can’t get anywhere near that warehouse, Liv,” he told me.

“It’s just a meet with my sister. Not a big deal. She wants to go over some new investments I’m suggesting.”

“I don’t like this,” he muttered like he wasn’t talking to me.

I didn’t like it either. I never liked being at the warehouse.

But this would one day come to an end.

I believed.

Nick Sebring was not Tom Leary.

And I was no longer the Olivia Shade I was when I was twenty-five.

I was smart and I was savvy. I had a good head on my shoulders.

And I could make a man like Nick Sebring talk about having a future with me.

Babies.

The only thing I wasn’t was strong. I had to admit that to myself so I could face it.

I’d had my strength burned right out of me.

No, I’d let them burn the strength right out of me.

Then I let them do whatever they wanted to do and I’d quit fighting. I’d quit dreaming.

I’d quit believing.