"I can't let you go back," he said, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

She stayed mum, staring up the ceiling. Her head was resting on his widespread arm and his fingers were playing with her hair.

"Des, did you hear me?"

"Yes," she whispered back.

"I can't let you go back."

"I heard you."

Another long silence.

"Do you want to go back?"

Did she have to make a decision now? It had only been a month since she got shot and though her wound had healed as hoped, she'd still get a mild wrenching feeling whenever she saw it. Everything still seemed fresh.

She tried to picture herself back in her old world. No crimes, no danger and definitely no more violence.

But there would be no Jamaica either. And whatever kind of person Jamaica was before she died, she and all her remaining secrets had died with her. For Desiree, Jamaica was a friend. She may have betrayed people—planned to betray more—but she was someone to her.

If Desiree decided to go back, there would just be spotlight and empty nights alone in her bed.

Had she grown fond of the thrill of the past couple of months? Should she be judged for it? Was it wrong for her to choose something out of norm? Was it wrong for her to admit that she was okay living like this for a while until Theo and Richard's plan was over? Would she be okay with knowing they may not live long enough to see the possibility of that happening soon?

There was no question what she felt toward Theo. If it was anomalous for her to feel that way after being forcefully dragged into this mess, she was willing to accept that. In fact, if it were a sin, she was very much willing to forgive herself for that.

"Des, do you want to go back?" he asked again.

"Can you make that happen?"

"You know I can." Of course. Jam's killer was now behind bars and awaiting trial. Petroff was gone, probably dead. Kane, a weird woman who happened to like her, was now in-charge of the agency. Theo could definitely make it happen.

"Will it be normal again? Just like before?"

"If you want to. But it will prove to be a challenge at first, supposing you want to go back as your old self." She'd have to face the many inquiries that would come her way, had to make up a really good cover story for her long disappearance. People would be at her door every minute of the day.

She kept quiet, considering everything.

"I won't stop you. But I won't stay either." It wasn't a threat. She knew Theo wouldn't settle for just half her life. He'd want to be a part of it or nothing at all.

"What if we really can't live together after all? What if we are only good like this? In bed?"

Theo kept his eyes focused on the ceiling as he said, "I always want to hear your laughter, the genuine one, so bad. In fact, I look forward to hearing it every now and then. I want to see the future you talked about happen and live it." He let his words sink in and he added, "If seeing a hint of a future with you, bad or good, isn't enough, I don't know what else is."

"That's probably the most romantic thing you've said to me. Hang on, I need to digest it because it might be the last and only one I'll get from you."

Theo's chuckle vibrated in his chest. "Take all the time that you need. You know I hate being romantic."

Her laughter slowly died. "Can't you do it with me? Leave? Just like Richard. We can disappear. We can go build that lake house I talked about. And I'm sure you remember the bed I mentioned," she added teasingly.

"You know I can't do that. Not yet."

She nodded. Of course, he had made a promise to his brother. He wouldn't rest until his father would crumble to the ground along with his empire.

"I stay or I leave," she uttered. "Is there a third option?"

"I'm afraid there isn't."

She tilted her head to look at him. "What if there is?"

He frowned down at her. "What do you mean?"

Desiree smiled. "I've been thinking about something."

1 YEAR LATER

Desiree walked into the classic restaurant, just an hour after she landed in France. She took off her sunglasses, looked past the gaping Frenchmen and found what she was looking for. She beamed widely as she sashayed her way across the hardwood flooring.

"Mr. Delacroix," she greeted the tall, lanky man flirtatiously as he bent down to give each of her cheek a peck.

"Desiree, yes? Can I call you Desiree?" he asked as he pulled out a chair for her.

"Of course. I'm sure no one will mind."

"Good, good. How was your flight?" He took the seat adjacent to hers. Someone started to pour a glass of wine for her.

"Tiring, but good. Is everything settled for the event?" she asked.

He did not answer immediately, his eyes wandering over her. She had dressed decently in a black, square neckline dress and white pumps. She had held her long black hair into a high bun. Other than that, Desiree couldn't find any reason why Delacroix would have such intensity in his gaze. In her mind, she regretted not wearing the collared dress shirt and black slacks.

"The event, Mr. Delacroix?"

The man blinked. "Yes. Of course. You have forwarded the sequence of events last week, yes?"

She nodded.

"Then there are no worries, Desiree! I know this will be a success. You've organized ten events like this for us, I hear, yes?"

"Five," she corrected with a smile.

"Then why the frown? Let's be happy. This is going to be a blast."

"I'll just go through some details with you," she insisted and instantly saw the disappoint wash over the man's face. "Then we can be happy," she added and got a smile in return.

One hour later, Desiree waited outside the restaurant as the valet stopped the car in front of her. She met him halfway.

"Have a great day, Mrs. Karlsson," he said, dropping the key in her hand.

*****

Desiree entered her hotel room without locking the door. She sat on her bed and waited, thinking about the event that came to a close thirty or so minutes ago, as she played with the gold band around her ring finger.

Reporters were present earlier and though she had left the modeling career since she returned, they were still a constant bother in her life. Maybe not as much as one year ago when she finally made her first public appearance after Jamaica's murder, but still they'd manage to worm their way to her to dig up the memories of her friend. They'd always want to ask about Khaye and if she had visited the woman in prison. They'd ask if her months under witness protection changed her mind about her change of career.

"I've found a new passion," she had simply answered one reporter earlier who asked the same question.

It had successfully veered the topic away from the fake story they had created one year ago and the reporter asked, "Where is Theo now?" Desiree had thought how Theo would hate being called by his first name, considering he despised the media attention the first time he was seen with her. He had grudgingly uttered one night that he'd prefer to be addressed only as 'Mr. Karlsson' or 'husband', but never Theo.

"Business."

"Always the businessman," the reporter had commented.

"Always the businessman."

The sound of the door opening stirred her back to the present. She stood up and a small smile formed on her lips.

"Do you have it?" Theo asked, shutting the door behind him and dropping his travel bag outside the closet doors. "I had the worst flight imaginable. I'm sorry I missed your event."

"Yes, I have it. The client will be waiting for you. And you are not sorry you missed the event. You hate the attention," she answered, approaching him. She wound her arms around his neck and ran her lips across his jaw to his ear. Having assumed Jamaica's role as a Walker for the Liaisons while working as an event manager for Kane's growing empire, she discovered it had its perks and excitements. "Did you lock the door?"

"Yes," he answered, resting his hands on her hips.

"I think we have lot of time for ourselves tonight," she said against his mouth.

"I thought there's going to be a party?" His hands bunched her dress above her waist. "And I thought we're coming?"

"After you meet the client," she reminded him with a sigh as his hands splayed over her bottom.

"After I meet the client."

Two hours later, they were dressing up. "There's a party at my father's place tomorrow evening."

"For what?"

"He's finally going to let us meet his year-old secretary."

Desiree stopped and stared at Theo.

He was smiling. "You think we can get to him?" she asked.

"We can try. Richard's been doing some underground work. He said he stumbled into something promising."

"The last time I talked to him he practically bragged into my face how he loves his lifelong vacation," she said with a scoff.

"You know he won't leave all the work to me. He's not here but that doesn't mean he's given up. And so far he's enjoying his newfound love-hate friendship with Morrison."

"Who is this new secretary?" she asked as she stepped into her heels.

"Alfonse Delacroix."

For the second time, she was stupefied. "French?"

He nodded.

"Lanky guy? Fake black hair?"

A frown formed on his face as he nodded.

Desiree sat on his lap, straddling him with excitement on her face. "Darling, I think we just hit jackpot."