ALEXANDER
The FBI interview was scheduled for ten AM, but I'd been awake since five, watching Isabella sleep in the pale morning light filtering through our bedroom windows. Her dark hair spilled across my pillow like silk, and even in sleep, her hand rested possessively on my chest, as if she was afraid I might disappear.
I wouldn't. Not anymore. Not when I finally understood what it meant to have something worth more than revenge.
My phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, a message from Miranda Walsh, the federal defense attorney Rebecca had arranged. Preliminary review complete. Meet at 8 AM to prep. This is manageable.
Manageable. Everything in my life had once been manageable through careful planning and strategic thinking. Now, with Isabella curled against me, her warm breath tickling my neck, I realized I preferred the beautiful chaos she'd brought into my ordered existence.
"You're thinking too loud," she murmured against my throat, her lips pressing a sleepy kiss to my pulse
