When I Say Yes (Necklace Trilogy 3)

“Which is why I am choosing a preemptive strike rather than a reactive one,” Dash replies. “Tomorrow morning there will be an interview exposing my fight club research for the next Ghost novel.”

Mark’s lips quirk. “Knock the wind right out of his sails. I like it. I do have a file of information on the ex, just in case, he’s a problem. You might find it worth a look.” He motions toward the offices. “Let’s go sit down and chat.”

I’m stunned in that moment to realize that Mark Compton cared enough about all of this to actually try and help.

We follow Mark to his office and gather around a small conference table. Mark slides a file toward Dash, a file already on the table, almost as if he expected him to visit. Dash opens it and flips through the pages before glancing at Mark. “While I already know this information, I’m curious why you do.” Dash slides the file toward me, his attention remaining on Mark.

Mark’s answer comes without hesitation. “If Brandon is looking to stir up trouble for Allie, he could shift his attention to her employment, and therefore, my operation. He has to be dealt with. Furthermore, Allie has my mother’s favor. That means she has mine.”

“How is she?” I ask.

“She’s a warrior,” he replies. “And she’s putting up a good fight. She’ll be happy to know you are as well.”

“I appreciate what you did last night,” Dash interjects. “And for your discretion. I owe you one.”

“I’m not a man who likes to ask for favors,” Mark responds. “I don’t, however, dislike the idea of having them owed.”

Dash laughs. “Smart man.”

Mark doesn’t reply. He fixes me in a steely look. “You’re not coming back.”

“I want to work here. I love this job and—”

“You’re not coming back.”

“I want to work for you in Nashville.”

He studies me a long, intense moment, that turns into five, and then says, “Good thing I talked to Tyler Hawk today and made that happen. You’ll handle his auctions, but all high-ticket items that are better run through the auction house directly should be looked at closely and with loyalty to us. Tyler understands this. This is a service to his clients. Anything his clients want auctioned for profit just plain comes to us. Details in your email, but be prepared for an expectation that you work for us, not him.”

I blink, not completely surprised, but still surprised that this all came together this easily. “Thank you. This is exactly what I’d hoped for.”

He stands and we follow him to his feet. “Then I suggest you get on a plane and make this last-minute mess of an auction Tyler Hawk has placed on our heads go over in a manner worthy of Riptide.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You already did,” he surprises me by saying. “My mother has been talking to your mother and it’s helped.”

This twists me in a few knots. Queen Compton is a powerful, strong, beautiful woman, weakened by the same illness that tried to break my equally powerful, strong, beautiful mother.

As if Mark reads my mind, he says, “Yes, going home is a good thing, Ms. Wright.”

I’m reminded then that Mark lived in San Francisco when his mom became ill. He too went home.

“Can I see her before I leave?”

“Her immune system is low. She’s not feeling well today, but call her tomorrow.”

“I will,” I say. “I absolutely will.”

Dash and Mark shake hands and I have this moment where I’m taken aback by how good-looking and intensely male both of these men are, and yet, how different. Mark is absolutely the guy who bets on the fight and Dash is the guy who does the fighting. And yet, I have this sense that these two are more alike than might initially appear to be the case.

I’m also aware that these two men have worked together and helped me close this chapter of my book. I’m now opening the door to a new life and a new chapter.

It’s a long time later and Dash and I have talked about Mark, Brandon, and our future over pizza, and we’re now in the air, inside a private jet, snuggled into our seats. After napping a bit, I wake up to find Dash has laid his seat back and is resting. I raise my seat, dig in my briefcase and manage to pull out Allison’s journal that I hadn’t even realized I’d brought with me. I didn’t, did I? I mean, I guess I did.

I open to a page and start reading:

In life, there are forks in the road. You choose left, and it could be right. You choose right, and it could be wrong. I know I write the same thing over and over, but that’s what’s happening in my head. I’m on replay and the only one I have to talk to is myself.