Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
GAGE
“The London office is on line one, sir,” Victoria said after a crisp greeting. Like she’d known exactly when he was stepping out of the elevator. Which was miraculous, since he hadn’t planned to be here this early.
Gage gave her a nod, strode into his office, and pressed the speakerphone on his desk. “King,” he said briskly.
He listened as he set his desk in order. Asked questions with an efficiency that cut through the stumbling responses. Booted up his laptop. The voice on the other end was too slow, too bumbling. It was starting to grate.
“Do I need to remind you how this conversation went last quarter?” Gage cut in.
A choked pause. “Sir, we just need a little more time.”
“You have a week. Get it done.” He ended the call before the other man could sputter a response.
Nate wasn’t in today. Offshore deal. Which meant Gage had to deal with incompetence himself.
He stood, rolling his shoulders back. His reflection in the glass was sharper than his focus. He had a report on market volatility waiting on his desk. Two multimillion-dollar contracts that were waiting for his final decision. Plenty to do.
But his mind kept straying.
To the way she had arched beneath him, soft gasps breaking into quiet, desperate sounds. The uneven hitch of her breath when he finally gave her everything.
The way she’d walked out wearing his damn shirt.
And gone to class.
Like once was enough.
Meanwhile, he was at work. When he would’ve rather been anywhere else.
Preferably with her.
Doing it again.
He rubbed his jaw, faintly amused. Apparently virgins were easily satisfied.
He moved back to his desk, and sat. He had to be careful. Play this correctly. Last night changed everything. Bea had given herself to him. That mattered. That was a milestone. One he’d probably remember until he was old and grey.
Yet, now that she was his, it didn’t feel like enough. It only sharpened the need. Solidified the fact that he had to keep her.
His gaze dropped to his desk, where a file sat in the bottom drawer.
He hadn’t needed to open it since it landed in his inbox weeks ago. One of many legal adjustments that slid through without public fanfare.
Gage had read it once.
But today, as he reached for a different document, his fingers slowed, then veered to that file.
The Social Proximity Law had been redressed.
A system designed to discreetly track how many nights a woman slept in a man’s residence in a month, and what that meant for his claim on her.
Tier 1: Three nights—emergency notification for minor incidents.
Tier 2: Five nights—international travel notification rights; medical notification.
Tier 3: Eight nights—financial oversight of major purchases; employment notification.
Tier 4: Seven consecutive or ten nights—de facto rights until disputed.
It was a necessary refinement, they’d said. A safeguard against instability. Men needed the power to protect their partners without forcing marriage. Women needed relief from constant pursuit. Given the imbalance, the logic was hard to argue with: too few women, too much competition.
It all sounded rational. On paper.
But Gage knew exactly who had pulled the strings to have the thresholds scrupulously lowered. Who had leveraged power behind closed doors to reshape the rules in his favor.
His jaw tightened. He wasn’t about to let this be used against him.
He shut the drawer with a decisive click. Out of sight for now, but not forgotten.
He leaned back in his chair, rolling his pen between his fingers, gaze fixed on nothing in particular. His mind once again drifted back to this morning.
Bea, standing in his closet, choosing something. Because she didn’t have her own outfits there yet. Not that he’d mind if she kept walking around St. Ives in his clothes.
There was one thing he could provide for her that didn’t feel like overreach. A small step. One she couldn’t argue with.
GAGE: What skincare brands does Bea use?
GEORGINA: …Excuse me???
GEORGINA: MOTHER OF EVERYTHING
GEORGINA: YOU’RE STOCKING YOUR PLACE AREN’T YOU
GEORGINA: GAGE
GEORGINA: DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE DOING???
He sighed.
GAGE: I asked a simple question.
GEORGINA: AND I RESPONDED WITH APPROPRIATE LEVELS OF PANIC.
GEORGINA: From my count she’s only stayed at your place three times. You didn’t even do this for what’s her name from London.
He exhaled gruffly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
GAGE: Just send the list please.
Three dots appeared. Went away. Then started again.
GEORGINA: I’ll do you one better, I’ll send you photos.
A few minutes later, a half dozen pics came through.
Gage swiped through them once, the brands and bottles completely foreign to him, then fired it off straight to Victoria with a single instruction.
GAGE: Have one of each of these delivered to my penthouse by tomorrow.
It was as good as done.
His phone buzzed again.
GEORGINA: You realize she’s going to clock this instantly, right?
Indeed. That was the point.
Bea checked the time as she slipped into one of the private study rooms in the library, shutting the door behind her. Afternoon sun poured through the glass. She opened her laptop and tapped out a message.
BEYA SLAYA: Hey. Are you awake?
CLAIRE BEAR: Duh. What’s up?
BEYA SLAYA: I need to talk.
CLAIRE BEAR: Hold on.
A three-second pause. Then her screen lit up with an incoming video call.
Bea exhaled, tucking loose hair behind her ear before answering.
Claire’s face filled the screen—dark hair in a messy topknot, one earbud in, the glow from her laptop tinting her skin in soft blue.
Behind her, her childhood bedroom was its usual organized chaos: a half-made bed, laundry spilling from a basket, a cluttered nightstand with an empty tumbler.
Slanted moonlight cut through the tilted blinds, striping the desk beside her laptop, where a mug and open notebook lay abandoned.
Claire squinted at her. “Okay. That message was serious. What happened? Did someone die?”
“No.”
“Did you kill someone?”
“Claire.”
“Blink twice if you need an alibi.”
Bea shook her head, lips twitching. “It’s nothing like that.”
“You’re being weird. What’s going on?”
Bea hadn’t planned how to say it. But it wasn’t something voice messages could cover, and Claire was her best friend. She took a breath, then—
“I slept with Gage.”
Claire clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes becoming saucers, before letting out an ungodly shriek.
Bea winced, convinced half the library heard even though she was wearing earbuds.
“I knew it!” Claire whisper-yelled, absolutely vibrating. “I knew it. Sweet mercy.”
Bea groaned, tilting her head back. “Claire.”
“I knew that man was going to dismantle you.”
“Claire Bear.”
“You slept with Gage King.” Claire sat back, gripping her own chest dramatically. “Are you alive? Or is this your ghost calling from the great beyond?”
Bea laughed despite herself. “I’m alive.”
“So…did he brief you first?” Her grin was wicked. “Did he draft an agenda?”
Bea huffed, shaking her head. “No. But it was…”
Claire’s teasing softened. “It was what?”
Bea breathed out. “It was…Gage. He—” Her throat squeezed, memories rushing back like a tidal wave. The way he had guided her through every moment. How thorough, and yet how careful. “He made sure I knew exactly what I was doing.”
Claire watched her closely. “And do you?”
“I think so.” It was half a whisper, half a prayer.
“Because you love him.” It sounded so real when Claire said it.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
Claire sighed. “Well, damn. If I didn’t already hate the one percent, I really do now.”
Bea let out a soft laugh.
Claire smirked. “So. Did he cry a little?”
“What?”
“Men always cry their first time with someone they actually love. Or they stare at you all wounded like a soldier on his deathbed.”
Bea snorted.
“Did he mutter mine against your skin? Did he claim ownership of your soul?”
Bea chewed her lip, a blush creeping up her neck. “No comment.”
Claire let out a victorious screech. “I knew it! That man would die before losing control in a boardroom, but with you? Done. Over.”
Bea’s head fell into her palm.
Claire softened. “So…you’re not freaking out?”
Bea pondered, her fingers tracing an aimless pattern against the desk. “No. But it…changes things.”
“Like what?”
Bea’s teeth gnashed into her cheek. “Like—he’s Gage,” she uttered. “Everything with him is deliberate. And this…”
Claire’s eyes sharpened. “This wasn’t just about sex.”
“No.”
“It wasn’t just about love, either,” Claire said thoughtfully.
“No. I don’t think it was just either of those things,” Bea mused. She knew how true it was once she said the words out loud. Every decision with Gage came with layers. And that meant this did, too.
Claire leaned closer to the camera. “Did you tell him you love him?”
She nodded.
“Did he say it back?”
Bea shook her head slowly.
Silence took up residence.
“How do you feel about that?”
Bea breathed in, steadying herself before she answered. She wanted to be honest. With Claire. With herself. “I’m okay with it. For now,” she said softly. “Technically, the condition wasn’t that he love me. It was that I love him.”
Claire’s expression stayed neutral, but her next words were pointed. “And it doesn’t bother you…that you love him, but he might not love you?”
Bea sat with that for a moment. Let the words marinate. “I don’t know that he does, but I also don’t know that he doesn’t,” she said finally. “Even if he did, I don’t know that he’d say it. He’s more of a doer than a sayer.”
Gage wasn’t careless. He didn’t make moves without intention. If he’d let her in this deep, it had to mean there was something real there.
But then again, men with power, with options, didn’t always play fair. And it’s not like she had a lot of experience with men like him.
“Well, he’d have to be an idiot not to love you.”
Bea issued a breathy laugh. “And he’s definitely not an idiot.”
Claire hummed, not disagreeing. But not quite agreeing, either.
“There’s something else.”
Claire’s face brightened, instantly alert. She squared her shoulders like she was about to be handed state secrets. “I’m ready.”
Bea grimaced. “You’re not gonna like it.”
“Try me.”
“I haven’t told my parents about him yet.” The words rushed out all at once.
Claire blinked. Again. Her face went altogether blank. “Wait. At all?”
Bea winced.
“Bey,” Claire chided, rubbing her face. “Why?”
“I wanted to do it in person,” Bea quickly defended.
Claire flashed her an incredulous look. “So, what, you’re just gonna drop this information like a casual bomb at Sunday lunch? ‘Hey, Umma, Papa—pass the kimchi, also, I have a billionaire boyfriend.’”
“I know.”
Claire’s expression was a mix of pity and disbelief. “You do realize every Korean parent ever wants to know if their daughter is dating someone, right? And your dad! Sweet mercy, he’s gonna freak out.”
“I’ll tell them when I go home.”
That stopped her.
“So Gage is…okay with your plan?”
Her stomach dipped. She could hear the pause in her own breath, the slight misstep. She forced out a perfunctory, “Yeah.”
Claire’s silence was loud. Deafening. She didn’t buy it for a second. “Oh, Bey.”
Bea’s eyes shut, like a kid hoping if she couldn’t see the problem, it didn’t exist.
“You haven’t told him.”
“Not exactly.”
Claire leaned back in her chair. “You know you have to.”
Bea opened one eye. “I know.”
“He’s…unlikely to be pleased.”
The other eye opened, and Bea sighed. “He probably can’t come with me, either. He’s working on something big over summer.”
“Oh, man.” Claire straightened once more.
Her dark-dark eyes held sympathy, but she wasn’t the type of friend who pet your feelings.
Bea knew she’d talk to her straight—one of the many things she loved about her.
“From what I know of Gage, I can totally see how you going so far away, for such a long time, would bother him.” Claire’s voice gentled then, but the force behind it remained. “But you get to make decisions too.”
“I think he’ll understand,” Bea said. Then she smirked, just a little. “But he still won’t like it.”
“Don’t let him steamroll you. When you tell him, make it clear. That this is your choice. That you’re not asking for permission.”
“I will.”
Claire breathed. “Good. Because whether you see it yet or not, I think Gage King already made plans for you.”
Bea felt a wave of something like nausea roll through her.
She already knew Claire was right.