Chapter Twenty-Two - Chloe
The sitting room is quiet, the kind of silence that feels more oppressive than peaceful. I sit curled on the plush armchair, my phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly through an endless stream of nothing. The weight of Erik’s absence presses down on me, no matter how much I try to distract myself.
Five months. It’s been five months since he left, and yet, I can still hear his voice in my head, see the way his eyes locked on to mine, and feel his presence.
I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts away. It’s useless.
When my phone buzzes in my hand, I nearly drop it. My heart skips a beat as an unknown number flashes across the screen. For a moment, I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the green icon.
It could be him.
The thought sends a jolt of both hope and fear through me. Steeling myself, I answer.
“Hello?”
“Do you miss me?”
The deep, unmistakable voice that comes through the line makes my breath catch. It’s Erik.
I press the phone tighter to my ear, struggling to keep my composure. “Erik,” I say, my voice steady despite the way my heart pounds. “What do you want?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he replies smoothly, his tone calm but laced with that familiar edge of command.
I swallow hard, my grip on the phone tightening. “I’m fine,” I say curtly. “I’m not crying, if that’s what you’re implying.”
There’s a brief pause on his end, and when he speaks again, his voice dips lower, softer. “Then why do you sound like you’re about to?”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, betraying me. I blink rapidly, willing them away. “I’m not,” I insist, though the tremble in my voice gives me away.
“Chloe.” His voice is firmer now, but there’s something gentler beneath the surface. “Why are you crying?”
I open my mouth to answer—or maybe to snap at him—but the words freeze on my tongue as a shadow crosses the room.
“Why don’t you tell me in person?” his voice says again, but this time it isn’t coming from the phone.
My head whips around, and my breath catches in my throat. Erik stands there, just inside the doorway, his phone in hand and his gaze locked with mine.
The look in his eyes is enough to render me speechless. Before I can process what’s happening, he crosses the room in a few swift strides, pulling me into his arms.
The phone slips from my hand, forgotten, as his warmth envelops me. His scent—faintly woodsy and entirely him—fills my senses, and for a moment, all the tension I’ve been holding on to melts away.
My hands rest against his chest, hesitating for only a second before clutching at the fabric of his jacket.
“I’m here,” he murmurs against my hair, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver through me.
I don’t trust myself to speak, my emotions too tangled to untangle. Instead, I lean into him, my head resting against his chest as I let the tears fall silently.
His hands move gently to my stomach, resting lightly over the soft swell. The gesture is so tender, so uncharacteristically Erik, that it breaks something inside me.
“How’s our baby?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost reverent.
A soft smile tugs at my lips, despite the tears still streaming down my cheeks. “Fine,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “We’re fine.”
He exhales slowly, his forehead resting against mine as his hands remain steady on my bump. “I’ve thought about you every day,” he admits, his tone raw in a way I’ve never heard before. “You and the baby.”
The words hit me hard, and I pull back just enough to look at him, my gaze searching his face. For all his control, all his arrogance, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes now that makes my heart ache.
“I miss you,” he says, the confession quiet but undeniable.
My breath hitches, my hands still clutching at his jacket. “I miss you too,” I whisper, the admission slipping out before I can stop it.
His eyes darken slightly, his gaze flicking to my lips before meeting my eyes again. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I reply, though the softness in my tone betrays the sting of my words.
A faint smirk tugs at his lips. “Too late.”
Despite myself, I laugh—a quiet, shaky sound that feels foreign after months of trying to hold everything together. His expression softens further, his hand moving to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing away the last of my tears.
“You’ve been strong,” he says, his voice low. “You don’t have to be, Chloe. Not with me.”
The sincerity in his words is almost too much. My walls falter, leaving me exposed in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for.
“I’ve had no choice,” I admit, my voice breaking slightly.
“It’s okay now,” he murmurs, his gaze steady.
He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away, but I don’t. When his lips meet mine, it’s not like before—this kiss is softer, deeper, carrying the weight of everything we’ve left unsaid.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, anchoring me to him, while his other hand remains over my stomach, grounding us both in the life we’ve created together.
When we finally pull apart, I’m breathless, my heart racing.
“Welcome home,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
Erik smiles—a rare, genuine smile that makes my chest ache. “It’s good to be home,” he replies, his voice as soft as his touch.
For the first time in months, I feel like I’m not alone.
Erik pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on my waist, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. He looks different—less guarded, more human—but there’s something in his expression that makes my chest tighten.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but quieter than usual.
The shift in his tone makes my stomach twist. I step back slightly, his warmth still lingering on my skin as I study his face. “What is it?”
He runs a hand through his hair, a rare sign of unease. “The reason I’ve been gone.”
“You said it was business,” I reply, my voice sharp enough to mask the dull ache of disappointment that rises in me.
“It was,” he says, his jaw tightening, “but it wasn’t the whole truth.”
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to shield myself from whatever he’s about to say. “Go on.”
He exhales, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting mine again. “There was a court case in New York. Charges brought against me—serious ones.”
My breath catches, and I press a hand to my stomach instinctively, as if shielding the baby from the weight of his words. “What kind of charges?”
“Money laundering. Fraud. Crimes that could’ve sent me to prison,” he says bluntly, though there’s a tinge of something softer in his voice, as if he’s trying not to overwhelm me. “It was the result of a long-standing vendetta by someone who wanted to see me fall. I had to leave to handle it quietly, without dragging you—or our child—into the mess.”
The room feels heavier now, the air thick with unspoken tension. I search his face, trying to process everything he’s just told me. “It’s resolved now?”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “My lawyer overturned the charges, but it took time. I couldn’t risk staying in New York while the case was ongoing.”
I let out a shaky breath, anger and relief warring within me. “You should’ve told me,” I say, my voice breaking slightly. “I spent months wondering why you left, why you couldn’t even call.”
His expression softens, his hands moving to frame my face. “I didn’t want to worry you, Chloe. You were pregnant, and I couldn’t risk you being dragged into it. Keeping you safe was my only priority.”
“Safe?” I repeat, pulling back slightly. “You think I felt safe not knowing what was going on? I thought you’d abandoned us.”
His jaw tightens, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I never abandoned you,” he says, his voice low but firm. “Not for a second. Everything I did was for you and the baby.”
The sincerity in his tone makes my anger falter, replaced by a lingering ache. I bite my lip, my gaze dropping to the floor.
“I hated you,” I admit, my voice trembling. “For leaving. For making me feel so alone.”
“I know,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you.”
The rawness in his voice breaks something inside me. I lean into his touch, exhaling slowly as the weight of the past months begins to lift.
“I have something to tell you too,” I say after a moment, my voice quieter.
His brow furrows slightly, his hands still resting on my face. “What is it?”
I step back, turning toward the small side table where I’ve kept the stack of papers and sketches that have consumed my attention for months. Picking them up, I turn back to face him, holding the pages out.
“This,” I say, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my chest.
He takes the papers, his eyes scanning the designs and notes with a focus that sends a pang of uncertainty through me. Finally, he looks up, his expression unreadable. “You’ve been working on this?”
I nod, shifting on my feet. “It started as an idea. Something to keep me busy while you were gone. But it’s more than that now. I want to open a boutique—one that specializes in rare, antique furniture. I’ve done the research, found some incredible pieces, and even started making plans for the layout and marketing.”
He’s silent for a moment, his gaze flicking between the papers and my face.
“You’ve been busy,” he says finally, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“I needed something to focus on,” I reply, unable to hide the defensive edge in my tone. “Something that was mine.”
His smirk fades, replaced by something softer. “And you did all this on your own?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice firm. “I’ve been researching auctions, connecting with potential suppliers, and mapping out the logistics. It’s not just an idea anymore—it’s real.”
A moment passes, his expression unchanged, and I brace myself for criticism or dismissal. But then, to my surprise, his lips curve into a rare, genuine smile.
“I’m proud of you,” he says, his voice low but steady.
The words hit me like a shockwave, leaving me momentarily speechless. “What?”
He steps closer, holding the papers out to me. “This. All of it. You’ve built something incredible, Chloe. You should be proud of yourself.”
I blink, taken aback by his sincerity. “You mean that?”
“Every word,” he replies, his hands settling on my waist. “You’ve been strong. You’ve made something for yourself, for our family. I couldn’t be prouder.”
Erik’s words hang in the air, reverberating in my chest. I search his face, looking for any trace of insincerity, but his expression remains open, his piercing blue eyes locked on mine with unwavering intensity.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Then don’t say anything,” he murmurs, his hands tightening ever so slightly on my waist. His touch is firm yet gentle, grounding me as the weight of the moment presses in.
My breath catches when he leans in, his lips brushing mine in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s nothing like the commanding kisses I’m used to from him—this one is slow, almost reverent. But it doesn’t stay that way for long.
The heat between us rises quickly, the months of longing and unspoken emotions surging to the surface like a tidal wave. His hands slide up my sides, his touch igniting sparks under my skin. I melt into him, my arms wrapping around his neck as the kiss deepens, growing more demanding.
“Chloe,” he whispers against my lips, his voice rough with desire. “I missed you.”
The quiet admission sends a shiver through me, my heart pounding as the words sink in.
“I missed you too,” I admit, my voice trembling with both vulnerability and need.
His gaze darkens, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable as he cups my face in his hands. “You’re mine,” he says, his tone fierce yet filled with something softer, something I can’t quite name.
His lips claim mine again, and any lingering doubts or insecurities dissolve in the intensity of his touch. I feel the cool air against my skin as he begins to unfasten my dress, his movements deliberate yet unhurried.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands roaming over my body with a reverence that makes my cheeks flush.
I hesitate for a moment, my hands instinctively moving to cover myself as the dress pools at my feet.
“Don’t,” he says firmly, capturing my wrists and holding them gently but firmly at my sides. His gaze meets mine, steady and unyielding. “Don’t hide from me.”
His words stir something deep within me, a flicker of confidence I haven’t felt in months. Slowly, I lower my hands, letting him see all of me, and the way his eyes darken in response sends a thrill down my spine.
“You’re perfect,” he says, his voice husky as he leans in to kiss me again.
The rest of our clothing falls away, forgotten as his hands and lips explore every inch of me. He whispers words of love and desire, each one a reassurance that I didn’t realize I needed.
“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear as he pulls me closer. “Don’t ever doubt that.”
Carefully, almost with reverence, he lowers me onto the sofa. A part of me is aware we’re in the living room, and that a maid could walk in and see us at any time….
The larger part of me doesn’t care one bit.
He slides inside of me, and I already ache for him. My back arches, and I’m so hot I don’t even notice the weight of my belly or the ache in my joints. He devours me with his lips, thrusting deep inside of me until I’m breathless.
“Beautiful…,” he murmurs over and over like a prayer, each rock of his hips sending a fresh jolt of need through me.
His words wrap around me like a cocoon, easing the insecurities that have been gnawing at me since he left. I let myself get lost in him, in the way he touches me, the way he looks at me as though I’m the only thing that matters.
When we finally come together, it’s more than just physical—it’s a release of all the tension, all the longing that has been building between us. His movements are deliberate, his touch both commanding and tender, as though he’s trying to convey everything he can’t put into words.
My name falls from his lips like a prayer, and I cling to him, letting myself feel everything—every emotion, every sensation—without holding back.
By the time we collapse onto our bed, our bodies tangled together, I’m breathless and completely spent. Erik’s arm wraps around me, pulling me against his chest as we lie in the dim light, the sound of our breathing filling the silence.
My head rests against his shoulder, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. For the first time in months, I feel completely at peace.
“I never thought I’d miss you this much,” I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
His chest rumbles with a soft chuckle, his hand stroking my hair. “You’re not the only one,” he replies, his voice low.
I tilt my head up to look at him, my gaze meeting his. There’s something different in his eyes now—something softer, more vulnerable.
“Do you ever regret this?” I ask hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper.
He frowns slightly, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “Regret what?”
“Us,” I say, the word hanging heavily in the air.
His expression hardens, but not with anger. “Never,” he says firmly. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Chloe, but marrying you isn’t one of them.”
His words hit me like a jolt, and for the first time, I realize just how deeply he means them.
“You make me crazy,” he continues, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
The weight of his confession settles over me, and I feel my throat tighten. “I feel the same way,” I admit softly, my voice trembling.
He cups my face, his gaze locking with mine. “Mmm,” he says simply, before leaning in to press a tender kiss to my forehead.
The silence that follows is comfortable, the tension between us finally giving way to something warmer, something deeper.
As I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, I feel a sense of completeness that I’ve never known before.
With Erik beside me, I feel whole.