𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

11 | A Getaway During Hurricane Season

"Darling, make sure you tell them that you need to take tomorrow off work for a long weekend trip. Just you, me, a luxurious private villa and me figuring out what the fuck has happened to all of my fucking money," Tom smiled widely, planning an impromptu holiday to the Cayman Islands; as in, the location where he launders all of his money.

"I'm about to finish this conference call Tom, shut up it's a case brief," I laughed, luckily being on mute but conscious that I still had to hear what was going.

"People are talking about their dogs, I doubt you're missing any crucial information about the case. Your call is basically over," he laughed, making me a tea in the kitchen which was a surprising change.

"Oh uh, Lieutenant? I've been working a shit tonne of over time lately and I was wondering if I could maybe take tomorrow off?" I asked, taking myself off mute and looking at the camera nicely.

"I was going to say you had a few days in lieu from overtime, yeah that's fine just log it in the system. Any special plans or just a rest day?" He asked.

"I'm just going to the Cayman Islands for a quick getaway," I smiled.

"It's hurricane season though..." Amalie said suspiciously, noticing Tom's arm come into the camera frame as he put my cup of tea on the coaster next to me.

"Speak of the devil, do we finally get to meet the son of a bitch that stood you up?" She continued, leaning forward towards the camera in anticipation.

"Alright this is my cue to leave, make sure your reports are in by the end of the day," the lieutenant said before logging off the call; leaving just my colleagues and I.

"Oh, uh, he doesn't want to intrude or anything..." I said looking at Tom who jogged back to the table and poked his head in the camera frame.

"Hello! I'm Tom, nice to meet you all. Y/N is lying I definitely want to intrude. Also thanks for calling me a bitch, I definitely deserve that for being such an asshole that night," he chimed, waving at the screen and going back to the kitchen.

"Y/N! You never said your boyfriend was such a fucking babe! Oh my god, hello Tom," Amalie taunted, fanning herself with her hand and laughing.

"Oh shut up, flirt with someone else's boyfriend," I said rolling my eyes at her as the rest of the group laughed.

"Technically I'm not even her boyfriend because she's immature and doesn't like labels," Tom said chiming into the conversation again and sticking his head back into frame. He liked stirring things up. He loved watching people's reactions.

"Oh fuck off you, you're making everything worse. Bye guys I'll see you online later!" I yelled out before hanging up the call.

"You all packed?" He grinning and closing my laptop.

"Yeah pretty much, are you?" I asked.

"Not at all," he laughed, kissing my cheek repetitively as I tried to push him away.

"Go away, you're so annoying!" I groaned, trying to wriggle out of his grip. This was before he licked my cheek and let me go. Asshole.

"Help me pack? Please," he whined, tugging at my hand like a five year old begging for a candy bar.

"Tom, it's only a weekend and it's going to be miserable weather. We can't swim, we can't explore and we're purely going just so you can rectify the banks fuck up in person. What could you possibly need help with?" I sighed, getting out of the chair and following him to the bedroom.

"I dunno, like what shirts to bring or which colour underwear to pack. What if I pack odd socks?" he shrugged, leading me into the room where he had an empty overnight bag sitting on the bed.

Of course, it was saffiano leather and handcrafted by Louis Vuitton. A custom Louis Vuitton for the record. This man has more designer shit than the Kardashians combined I swear to fucking god. And he doesn't even realise.

"Amalie is already texting me saying how hot you are," I laughed, going to the wardrobe and pulling out some of his clothes for him to pack.

"Is she cool? Do I need to be worried?" He asked. I shook my head and told him she was cool. He then laughed at his phone because he got a notification saying that she was now following him on Instagram.

"Wait, is it dangerous for a detective to be following you on social media?" I asked turning around with an armful of socks and underwear to pack.

"Darling, I've told you already my record is clean," he said taking the clothes from me and putting them in the duffel bag.

"You know, a little weekend getaway might be good for us. Getting away from all this stuff and just focusing on you and I," I said sitting on the bed next to him.

"You say that as if you're already planning something up your sleeve," he said smirking.

"Oh I'm definitely planning sex, are you not?" I laughed.

"No I definitely am, I just wanted to check we were both on the same page," he laughed back, cupping my face in his hand and pressing his lips against mine.

Since his heroin incident, every time he even showed the slightest bit of affection, he acted so sincere and deeply in love; it was perfect. Although he only recently got his sex drive back and the whole severed finger deliveries were hindering us being able to get in the mood, I was definitely looking forward to our little getaway.

"I want to figure out who did this bank account bullshit. I can't even open a new account with them without being there in person so the fact that they said 'my wife' opened a new one and transferred my money into it makes me fucking furious. Some mafia prick has probably gotten their girlfriend to go into the bank with a fake ID and manipulated them. They better have every fucking dollar still there," he said sighing.

"Don't worry, the fact someone called themselves your wife and it wasn't me, makes me even angrier."