Page 32 of Claimed By my Fake Husband

My pulse stays even. Unbothered. I've spent the last year taking the Cilento family apart, piece by piece, testimony by testimony.

At this point, the whole crime ring is crumbling.

I know they hate me for it. But I also know I'm safe, because I go home to my own personal bodyguard every night.

"Thank you, Ms. Beaumont."

I know this routine by heart now. Today isn't any different from the dozen times before it.

Cross-examination is next, and I get through it clean, same as always, before court is dismissed for the day. The lawyers shake my hand, and I give Reynolds and Sawyer a nod on my way out.

They still show up to these things more than I'd expect from "busy" agents. Then again, I think business has been slow since I helped take down one of the biggest crime syndicates in the city.

Maybe the country.

God, I can't wait to get home.

I head to my car in the underground garage, running through all the little safety checks Logan drilled into me. Habit now, not fear.

It's not a long drive. Still, a hot bath and a glass of wine can't come fast enough.

I pull into the driveway in front of our apartment—Logan's apartment, before I moved in and ruined all his bachelor décor.

God, did that place need a makeover.

But thanks to yours truly, it actually feels like home now. I toss my keys in the catchall, lock up, reset the alarm, and kick off my shoes before padding straight to the counter, where a bottle of red is waiting for me like an old friend.

I pour a glass and carry it back to the bedroom, shrugging off my suit jacket along the way. I take one more sip and set the glass on the nightstand so I can change.

Sweatpants and a tank top. Now.

Once I'm dressed down, I grab my wine again and head for the living room. Logan's still out on an undercover job for Boss,which means it's just me, a couch, and whatever terrible rom-com Netflix wants to throw at me tonight.

He'd rather die than sit through one of those with me.

"Hey there, sweetheart."

"Logan!"

I nearly send my wine flying onto the cream rug—a genuine tragedy in the making—but I catch it just in time, shock melting straight into joy.

"Oh my god, you're home! I thought you had two more days!" I fly across the room and into his arms, forcing him to drop his bag so he can catch me, and I smother his face in kisses. "Yay!"

"Couldn't stay away from you." He grins, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Wrapped things up early. Win-win."

He carries us to the couch, sets me down, then barely gets seated himself before I'm climbing right back into his lap. He chuckles, settling me over his hips, and I don't miss exactly how happy he is to see me.

"It's been far too long, Tess."

"It's been five days." I pause, then smirk. "But you're not wrong."

"How was court?" He noses along my jaw, dropping kisses down my neck.

"Good. But are we really doing Cilento family business the second you walk through the door?"

He laughs, leaning forward to grab my wine and hand it back to me. "Fair point. How about a surprise instead?"

"A surprise?" I lift a brow. "What kind?"