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I was not a man who’d ever wanted to be in a couple with anyone.

Until Miranda.

There was no denying that was what I wanted, either.

Sure, for a while, I’d been able to say it was just physical, that we needed to get each other out of our systems.

But as time went on, it became more and more apparent that it wasn’t just that.

I just… liked her.

I appreciated her outer image, even admired the effortless way she wore that mask. But I liked the woman underneath even more. The one who liked trash TV and honey mustard on her fries and cursed and had a slight accent when she got a little frustrated over things.

I liked her drive and her confidence.

I liked her mind and her heart.

I just… liked her.

The more time I spent with her, the more that was true.

I mean, I swore I would never force myself to endure another night at the Falkes Benefit. But doing so with Miranda had been an entirely different experience.

And not just because of the sex. Though, yeah, that had been top-tier sex.

A part of me was worried about solving her case, about no longer having an excuse to be in her guest room.

Would she send me packing?

And why did the idea of that make me feel like someone had kicked all the air out of me?

I was more relieved than I should have been that the envelope had been an invitation from Bellamy. Not only because it meant that Miranda was safe for the time being, but because it meant that we weren’t one step closer to figuring things out… and ending my access to the woman I was starting to have a lot of feelings for.

“Yeah?” I asked, answering Tig as I moved onto the balcony.

“I’ve been doing some digging,” he told me, and I could hear him shuffling paperwork.

“On what?”

“The doorman,” he said.

“We cleared the doorman,” I reminded him. “And his wife,” I added.

We’d been thorough. Especially because the man could potentially have so much access to Miranda, given his position.

But we couldn’t find anything.

Frank was a beloved doorman for many years.

And his wife had been a homemaker until their kids were in middle school. At which time she started to work at a small bakery to fill her time.

Nothing at all to raise a red flag about.

“Yes. The wife and the doorman. And when that came up clean, we stopped digging.”

“What else is there to dig for?”

“The daughter,” Tig said, making me whip around to look through the glass at Miranda.


Tags: Jessica Gadziala Romance