Falling In (The Surrender Trilogy 1)

She frowned. “Hello?”

She saw a note and navigated through the long curling strings to get to it. It was a big word. She took a deep breath and quietly sounded it out. “Ha-p . . . hap-pyah . . . happee-yah . . . happee . . . happy!”

Evelyn turned and another light flickered on over at Lucian’s desk. She ran over and found another note. “B-ih-r-tuh . . . bihrtuh . . .” She frowned and took a deep breath. She looked at the word. Th said thhhh . . . “Bih-rrr-th . . . bihrth . . . birth . . . Birth!”

She smiled, expecting another and turned. A small lamp flicked on in the hall. She ran over. She picked up the small paper and recognized the word. “Day!” She shouted and jumped. “Happy birthday!” The bedroom light flipped on, and Evelyn ran in and slid to a stop.

Lucian stood in his tuxedo, holding a cupcake with a candle. He was surrounded by at least twenty-two other cakes. Big cakes, wedding-style cakes, chocolate cakes, ice cream cakes, each one with a tall candle burning on the top. One for every birthday she never had.

She shook her head, speechless.

“Happy birthday, Evelyn. Make a wish.”

Three staggered steps and she was in front of him. She looked in his beautiful dark eyes, candlelight shining back from their soft depths. How had she ever mistaken his eyes as being hard? Gazing down at the candle burning between them, she thought of the one thing she wanted most. She had twenty-two other candles to get to and plenty of wishes to fill each extinguishing breath, but this one was the important one. This one would count.

She took a deep breath and blew.

Don’t let anything take him away from me.

Part IV

Parker

Chapter 44

Fast

Fuck.

Parker picked up the wallet and fought back the temptation of pocketing it. If someone saw him, he’d lose his job. With a sigh he looked for the three-piece suit who had dropped it and saw him climbing into the back of a sleek black limo.

The limo pulled into traffic and started stealthily down the busy street.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered and began chasing after the car.

“Parker? Your shift’s not over,” Philippe shouted. No time to stop. He lost sight of the limo as it turned off of Gerard and onto Washington.

The sidewalks were clogged with pain in the ass, pokey pedestrians. His Patras hat flew off his head, but Parker didn’t slow down to retrieve it. He bumped a woman in the shoulder, and taking a second he couldn’t really spare, he stopped to steady her and offer a quick apology. When he looked up, the limo was blocks ahead and moving in the turning lane, heading down the main line.

His soft-soled dress shoes skidded over the pavement as he took off again. Once Parker caught up to where the limo turned, he stopped. In a sea of yellow cabs there were three limos. He did a quick assessment of each black car and decided the one two blocks up on the left looked to be his guy.

Parker’s knees pumped hard as he sprinted after the car, hurdling small obstacles along the way. He almost lost it again, but some traffic snagged the limo’s progress. His breath sawed in and out of his lungs. He practically collapsed on the back window as he banged his palm on the glass.

The chauffer poked his head out the window and frowned. “Hey! Get out of here!”

Too out of breath to offer an explanation, Parker banged on the window again. The black glass slowly lowered. He sighed when he recognized the man with bright blue eyes and caramel-colored skin.

“Can I help you?” the man asked.

He panted and held up the billfold. “You dropped—” Parker breathed. “Your wallet.”

The man’s expression relaxed. He looked out the back window as if checking where they were at the moment. He then read the Patras emblem on his blazer. “You ran all the way here from Patras?”

“I didn’t . . . want you . . . to lose your stuff.”

The man popped the door open and scooted back. “Get in.”

Parker hesitated a moment and then nodded, sliding onto the soft leather seat. It had been a while since he had been on the inside of a limo but the memory suffused him before he shook it off. “Thank you.” He was finally catching his breath.

The man eyed him as he flipped through his wallet once Parker handed it to him. His brow rose. “Everything’s here. Thank you. I’ll give you a ride back if you don’t mind a little detour.”

“I appreciate it, but I can’t.” Parker pointed to his blazer. “I’m on the clock.”

“Does it really matter?” the man asked, and Parker frowned.

What kind of question was that? “Uh, yeah, to me it does. And I’m sure to my boss. I can’t accept my paycheck if I didn’t earn it honestly, and I need the money.”