The bored prosecutor looked over his notes again and Renee fought the urge to roll her eyes. Finally, the man said, “Ms. Preston-Willoughby, Clinton Preston has accepted a plea deal in which he’ll get a reduced sentence in exchange for testifying against Darin Preston.”
“Oh.” The word rushed out of her. “That’s good. If I may ask...how reduced?”
“He’ll plead guilty in exchange for a sentence of twelve years at a minimum-security prison with the possibility of parole. He might be out in seven.” The prosecutor looked up at her. “I don’t plan on letting your father out of prison in his lifetime, even if he pleads guilty to avoid a trial.”
“Good.” If the man was surprised by this, he didn’t show it. “Will you be able to extradite my mother?”
That got her a faint smile. “If we do, will you be willing to testify against her?”
Renee thought about all those terrifying family dinners with forks repeatedly stabbed into her legs and being blamed for getting blood on her ruined pants and skirts. She thought about a lifetime of manipulation and deceit, of being made to feel small and hopeless and embarrassing.
Then she imagined her mother in the defendant’s table, being forced to listen to Renee poke holes in her story of innocence one precise jab at a time. She smiled. Let her mother find out what real anxiety was like. “I’d be delighted to.”
“I believe we have everything we need,” the prosecutor went on. “If your father’s case goes to trial, we’ll expect your full cooperation.” Renee nodded. That was always the deal. “Please don’t leave the country and keep my office informed of where you are. Otherwise, you are free to go.” He gave her that faint smile again. “Good luck, Ms. Preston-Willoughby.”
She sat there for a moment, stunned. “I can go back to Texas if I want?”
Not that it was a good idea—it wasn’t. She’d walked away from Oliver, after all. And he had paparazzi watching him now. She’d seen the pictures of him entering and leaving his building and Lawrence Energies’s office complex. In every single shot, he was scowling. In all probability, she was probably lucky he hadn’t punched anyone. But at least he wasn’t running. He’d remembered that.
She’d done that. She’d taken away his privacy, not to mention Chloe and Flash’s privacy. The Lawrence family was in the press in a highly public way.
“Of course. Get a job, move on with your life. We won’t be garnishing your wages or any wages of anyone you marry.”
Renee’s mouth almost, almost dropped open at that, but those old damned habits kept her face blank. The prosecutor was just as unreadable but she shouldn’t have been surprised. The man was no idiot.
“That’s good to know. Thank you.”
She and her lawyers stood, as did the prosecutor. Everyone shook hands. “Good luck,” the man said.
She almost laughed at that. She’d been born to privilege and she was lucky enough to have known the love of the Lawrence family. But beyond that?
She’d been lucky enough to have a good month with Oliver. To ask for more than that would be too much.
She said goodbye to her lawyers and then hurried to the ladies’ room. Her bladder seemed smaller every day. Her baby was growing. She could focus on impending motherhood now. That would be enough.
Lost in thought about what kind of job she might be able to get—something anonymous would be great—she exited the elevators into the lobby and headed for the door. She could see the paparazzi milling around outside but she didn’t care anymore.
“I thought you hated the paparazzi.”
That voice. His voice. “Oliver?” Renee stumbled as she whipped around, searching for him. Please, please don’t let her be imagining his voice.
“But here you are, about to walk right out into their waiting cameras.” He guided her to the side so effortlessly that she wasn’t sure her feet touched the ground.
“You’re here,” she whispered as he pulled her into a waiting elevator. His arm went around her waist and he pulled her against his chest. God, she’d missed him. The five days since she’d forced herself to walk away from him had been a new, different kind of misery. She threw her arms around his neck and held on tight as the elevator doors slid shut. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” He hit the button for the garage level and they began to move. “I made you a promise.”
“You did?” She searched her memories and her heart sank.
He’d promised Clint he’d look after her.
Oh, no. He wasn’t here because he couldn’t live without her. He was here because he had a promise to keep. This wasn’t any different than him offering to marry her because it might help. Oliver Lawrence was the most honorable man she’d ever known. Even though she’d walked away from him, he was going to take care of her. Whether she wanted him to or not, apparently.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice too soft. She was too soft when it came to him. Because she’d walked away once with her head up and her shoulders back. She wasn’t sure she could do it again.
“I do.” He lifted her chin so she looked him in the eye. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you without saying goodbye.”
She reared back, but he didn’t let her go. He had promised that, hadn’t he?
“But...” she said, staring at him. “I said goodbye.”
“I didn’t.” Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of his voice, deep and intense. Oliver’s eyes darkened. “What do you want, Renee?”
Before she could come up with an answer, the elevator dinged again and people got on. Oliver shifted so that Renee was standing next to him but his arm stayed locked around her waist and, fool that she was, she leaned into him.
He was
