Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta #4) - Hailey Edwards

One

“…three additional kiosks…”

Drowning in one of Midas’s tees and a pair of my pajama shorts, I sat at my new desk, chin in palm.

“…break ground in six months…”

The redecoration of the apartment was going well, I thought, thanks to my shiny new bank card.

“…sales are up ten percent…”

All systems go for Addie’s visit.

“…new employees hired…”

The one space Midas requested be left untouched was the loft, which suited me fine. And not because it meant one less room to redesign. The loft was ours, an end-of-day oasis, and not for guest consumption.

However, our perfectly good king-sized mattress perched on its perfectly good bedframe in our perfectly good bedroom was showroom ready. We even splurged on a reclaimed-wood headboard made by a packmate, plus matching his and her nightstands and a dresser with a framed mirror.

And yet, we still woke stuck together by our sweat on the cramped futon in the loft.

The problem with sleeping next to Midas, no sex involved, prior to mating with him, still no sex involved, was we had gone out of our way to establish a routine heavy on cuddles and not much else in the weeks leading up to the solidification of our union.

Out of mutual respect, we had conducted ourselves thus far as roommates rather than romantic partners. Now we were an official couple, and we were officially stuck in a rut. I wasn’t sure how to reach the next level without making it weird between us or bursting our happy cohabitation bubble.

I loved Midas.

I respected Midas.

I also really, really wanted in his pants.

Frak.

I was a terrible person.

“Yes,” Remy agreed, chewing with her mouth open. “You are a terrible person.”

Swinging my head toward her, I scowled at her. “You read minds now?”

“No.” She ate another square of Ambrose’s chocolate, causing my shadow to coil like a serpent ready to strike her down for the insult. “You just mutter under your breath a lot.” She balled up the wrapper and hit me in the forehead with it. “You also zone out during business meetings.” She clucked her tongue. “Frustration does that to people.”

“I’m not frustrated,” I lied to both of us. “I’m fabulous.”

“The looks you give Midas are illegal in several countries.”

Tipping up my chin, I took the high road. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I considered buying him a taser in case he needs to defend himself.”

“What? Why?” The low road smacked me in the face. “I’m not going to molest him.”

“Your mouth says that, but your eyes say different.”

Note to self: Purchase dark sunglasses at earliest opportunity.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” I shoved away from the desk. “Are we done here?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She gathered her papers into a folder. “I’ll just forge your signature on any you missed.”

“What?”

“Uh.”

“Remy…”

“Do you smell that?” She sniffed the air. “I think I left my stove on.”

Quick as a blink, she scurried out the front door and slammed it behind her.

“I’ve created a monster,” I said to the room, and the room did not disagree with me.

A persistent buzzing reminded me I hadn’t unmuted my phone when I woke alone at dusk.

Swiping my fingers across the screen, I exhaled long and slow. “Yes?”

“Did I call at a bad time?”

Reclaiming my seat at the desk, I couldn’t fight the smile forming. “Midas.”

“Are you too busy to talk?”

“No,” I rushed to reassure him. “Just grumpy. I haven’t had my café mocha yet.”

“Bishop running late?”

Normally, he would have beaten down the door, grumbled about getting a key, and caffeinated me by now.

“I haven’t heard from him,” I admitted. “I’ve been in a business meeting with Remy.”

Amusement dipped through his voice. “How did that go?”

“I have a hand cramp from signing papers for various business ventures, but I learned she’s been forging my signature, so I can’t imagine that will ever blow up in my face.” I lowered my forehead onto the desk. “How’s your night going?”

“All quiet on the Western Front.”

Laughing softly, I shut my eyes. “I’m about to head to HQ. Need something before I go?”

We were short one beating heart for Natisha, but the witchborn fae coven wasn’t making it easy on us to complete our collection. That worked in our favor, as I had yet to hit on a way to keep the viable hearts out of Natisha’s hands while still fulfilling our end of the bargain with her. I patrolled each night until I limped home with nothing but blisters to show for my efforts. The sight helped, but it hadn’t given me any insight to

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