Olivia steps forward, her shoulders thrust back. “Then you will delete every copy, so help me God, on every device, anywhere that they exist.”

Brad nods in agreement, looking defeated.

“And,” I add, “you’re going to sign this.” I push a thin sheaf of papers across his desk. Olivia and I have already signed the last page.

“What the hell is it?” Brad grumbles wearily.

“A confession. Where we all agree, in writing, that you committed insider trading and attempted to extort Olivia into selling T&C . . . and in return for you not releasing her photos, we won’t report any of your crimes. So if a single pic ever shows up online, consider this document your one-way ticket to federal prison.” I give him a tight, humorless smile. “But as long as none of Olivia’s nudes ever see the light of day, neither does your confession. What do you say?”

Brad swallows and his head bobs again. “Fine. Just get out.”

He flips to the final page, scribbles his signature in a series of quick, angry slashes, and shoves it back into my hand.

Only once we’re outside the ominous steel-and-glass building does Olivia give a little victory shout.

“You were incredible back there.” Her eyes are alight with triumph, and her voice is almost giddy.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I reply with a grin. Counter-blackmail? I didn’t know she had it in her.

“Seriously, did you see the look on his face when he thought the women of New York were going to find out about his teeny weenie? It was classic!” She giggles again.

“Do you really have a photo of it?”

She shakes her head with a chuckle. “Nope. I was totally bluffing.” In a stage whisper she adds, “It wasn’t photo worthy.”

I laugh out loud. Brilliant—that’s just icing on the cake. I want to tease her by saying I’m so proud. But that feels weird for some reason, so I settle for, “Remind me never to play poker with you.”

Buoyant with victory, we stroll along the sidewalk back toward the car.

“Noah?” she asks after a few minutes.

“Yeah, Snowflake?”

“Thank you for helping me. And for not judging me for sending those photos in the first place.”

“Hey, the only thing I cared about was putting that asshole in his place. I’d never judge a woman for sexting her boyfriend.”

“Still, you dropped everything to help me. After I just . . . ran.”

The urge to reach out, to lace our fingers together or put my hand on her waist or just touch her in some small way, flares up inside me. But I don’t. Not yet. With all the commotion Brad’s blackmailing caused, I still don’t quite know where Olivia and I stand. She did run out on our wedding instead of including me in her personal drama. And she still hasn’t said a peep about the contract. Even if this victory is pretty fucking incredible, I’m not ready to celebrate yet. I need answers.

“Should we head back to the office?” Olivia checks her phone, and the time shows just after eleven.

“Not yet. Let’s go get lunch.”

“Good idea.”

Thirty minutes later, we’re seated at a Mediterranean restaurant that’s just around the corner from our office, sipping iced tea and munching on hummus and warm pita bread.

“God, the look on his face . . .” Olivia chuckles again. “I won’t forget that anytime soon. Thank you for today. For everything.”

I nod. “It was nothing.” Just connecting a few dots.

“And for what it’s worth, I am so sorry about leaving you high and dry at the beach.”

I tense my jaw. Do I wish she would have trusted me with this information and let me help from the start? Sure. But I’ve never been in Olivia’s shoes, and I can’t judge her decision. I have no idea how I’d feel if my ex was threatening to expose me—literally—if I didn’t cut her into my company. Shit, I’m almost as hard-headed as Olivia; I probably would have wanted to handle it alone too. But there’s still something bugging me.

“About that . . . is the blackmail the only reason you ran away?”

Her eyes lift to mine. “Of course. I told you I was ready to tie the knot, and I meant that.”

I nod. I almost ask her how she feels about marrying me, specifically. But at the last second, I decide I’m not ready to hear the answer to that loaded question. I need to remember that we’re both doing this out of necessity.

I have responsibilities, mountains of obligations. The fear of failure is reason enough to stay the course.

Chapter Four

Olivia

I expected to be nervous again. And I am, but just a little—not nearly so bad as before. Even though my palms are sweating like crazy, my heart beats steady and my stomach is calm. I almost feel like I’m floating as Noah and I stand once again before the justice of the peace.

She recites our wedding vows over the hushed lapping of the ocean waves, the mewing cries of seagulls, the occasional clang of buoys and ship’s bells. Our two rows of guests watch from their folding chairs on the beach. And the whole thing just feels right in a way it didn’t before. As if some invisible puzzle piece has clicked into place. My doubts have finally worn themselves away, leaving me light and free.

The judge presents our marriage license and the inheritance contract, all filled out except for the final signature line. Noah signs first, then me, my pen gliding over the paper as easily as the distant sailboats glide through the water. Finally, after all our false starts, our two signatures sit side by side.