Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
T he hum of the overhead lights does nothing to drown out the thoughts circling my mind.
The McKenzie case file lies open in front of me, a thick stack of white-collar greed and polished lies, but I’ve read the same paragraph three times and absorbed none of it. My eyes track the words, but my brain’s elsewhere. Back in my bed. Wrapped around him .
Axel .
Even now, hours later, I can still feel the echo of his hands on my skin. The bruising grip of his fingers. The heat of his mouth. The way his voice dipped low when he said my name like it meant something.
My body aches in places I didn’t know could ache—from hours spent tangled in sheets and shadows, breathless and greedy for more. We didn’t just have sex. We sank into each other. Like we were both starved. Like stopping would kill us.
We never left the apartment. The coffee went cold on the counter both mornings. My phone stayed silent, flipped face-down and forgotten. We ate once, maybe twice. Slept even less. And when he finally pulled himself from my bed this morning, bare-chested and battle-worn, I nearly asked him to stay .
Nearly.
But I didn’t. I watched him go instead, the door clicking softly behind him while the imprint of him lingered in my sheets. In my skin.
I shift in my chair, exhaling through my nose, dragging my gaze back to the file. Numbers blur. Statements smear together. My concentration unravels as quickly as it forms. I try again, forcing myself to focus, but all I see is the way Axel looked at me when I told him about Cooper and Daniels.
About what they did.
I expected rage. Or cold dismissal. Or maybe the smugness men sometimes get when they think you’re broken and they’re the ones to fix you.
But Axel? He just listened.
No flicker of cockiness. No hint of disapproval.
Just heavy silence. Focused. Controlled. Too controlled.
It’s the kind of quiet that says he’s already planning something.
My phone buzzes sharply across the desk, cutting through the static in my brain. I blink, grounding myself back in reality, and glance at the screen.
Lex: Lunch? You need real food and a break from your computer, robot.
A half-smile tugs at my mouth.
Me: Fine, but if I see kale I’m leaving you there.
Another buzz.
Lex: No kale. Only carbs and reckless life decisions.
I smirk and push my chair back, grabbing my blazer and purse. Reckless decisions? I’ve already made some. And now in particular tastes like danger and obsession—two things I can’t seem to resist.
And right now, I’m not sure I want to stop.
Lexie’s already halfway through her drink when I arrive, legs crossed, sunglasses perched like she walked straight out of Top Gun . The sun catches the edge of her hair, haloing her in gold she’d never admit she deserves.
“I’m surprised you can even sit properly,” she remarks with a grin as I slide into the booth across from her. “That man must be doing work.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t fight the flush creeping up my neck. My reflection in the window gives me away—smudged lipstick, hair pulled back in a way that says more than I ever will. “We... spent the weekend together.”
Lexie leans forward like a shark that smells blood. Her grin widens, all teeth and wicked curiosity. “I heard.”
Of course she did.
Her brows arch behind those obnoxious sunglasses. “And?”
I frown back at her, picking at the condensation on my glass. “And what?”
“Don’t ‘and what’ me. Did you tell him?” Her tone softens, but the steel never leaves.
I nod slowly, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip until it stings. “About Cooper. And Daniels.”
Lexie’s smile fades so fast it’s like the sun slipping behind a cloud. She actually sets her drink down—Lexie never sets her drink down. “Wait. What happened with Daniels?”
“Well…” I run a hand through my hair, forcing out the breath stuck in my throat. “He basically threatened Axel. Through me.”
Lexie lets out a low whistle that turns a few heads at the bar. “Damn. You okay? Want me to get the cuffs out? Maybe my baton?”
“No.” I shake my head, though her protective spark warms something cold in me. “I’m good. Really.”
She tips her sunglasses down her nose, studying me over the rim. She sees too much, always has. “And how did your mafia king take it?”
“Too well,” I admit, stirring my drink just to avoid her eyes. “Like... eerily calm. No shouting, no threats. Just... calm . ”
Lexie lets out a humorless laugh. “That’s not calm, Cass. That’s calculated . You know that, right?”
I swallow hard. I do know. I know it in my bones. The calm before the storm. The hush right before the door slams open.
Lexie nudges my hand with hers, her rings cold against my skin. “So what now?”
I lift my eyes, meeting hers, the same fierce loyalty that’s always been there. “Now? Now I try not to get in the way when he burns the whole damn city down.”
Lexie lifts her glass again, clinks it against mine with a dark grin. “Atta girl. At least let me help you pour the gasoline.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh, rolling my eyes.
Lexie leans back in her chair, crossing her legs. “I like him a little more now. But I’m also going to say this—just once. Be careful. He may not be the kind of man who hurts you the way Cooper did, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hurt you in his own way.”
I smile, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I know she’s only looking out for me, but she’s right.
We finish our lunch between conversations about nothing and everything. It’s not like we really need to catch up, we live together after all.
Eventually, lunch ends. We hug goodbye with the promise of seeing each other later. And I walk the two blocks back to the office, lost in my head.
Then… I feel it.
That prickling sensation down my spine. Like I’m being watched. I stop at the corner, glance behind me. Nothing. Just the same blur of suits, shoppers, and tourists. But the feeling doesn’t go away.
I tell myself I’m imagining it. That I’ve watched too many crime dramas and spent too much time around Axel. But the feeling lingers even as I step into the building and ride the elevator up .
I push open the door to my office, desperate to get away from whatever sensation has me feeling this way.
And then I see them.
A bouquet. Sitting on my desk. Tall, elegant. Blood-red roses threaded with delicate white lilies. No card.
My stomach dips.
I walk over slowly, brushing my fingers across the petals.
They're beautiful. Thoughtful in a way that catches me off guard. Deep red roses, velvety and rich, nestled between delicate white lilies, their petals soft and slightly curled at the edges like they were arranged just this morning. There’s eucalyptus tucked between the blooms too, a faint hint of something crisp and green threading through the air.
My chest tightens. Of course he sent them. This is so him; intense and unexpected, something that could almost be mistaken for romantic if you didn’t know better. And yet… he is romantic, in his own way. The way he touches me. Looks at me like I’m something rare.
I smile without meaning to. My hand lingers on one of the lilies, tracing its soft center. There’s something delicate about it, something that makes me feel… delicate too. Soft in a way I don’t let myself be.
He didn’t need to send these. Axel doesn’t do flowers—he does protection, shadows at my door, whispered threats turned into promises. But the fact that he did —I let myself believe it for a heartbeat—makes me feel seen . Wanted. Maybe even cherished.
And with that warmth still blooming in my chest, I reach for my phone. It’s automatic. Him . I want him to hear it in my voice, that he’s managed to do what no one else has—disarm me.
“Cassie.” His voice alone makes my pulse stutter. Always does. It curls down my spine and settles low in my belly.
“Hey. The flowers you sent are beautiful,” I gush, twisting slightly to glance at the bouquet again, absurdly pleased by how it brightens my office. “You didn’t have to?—”
“I didn’t send flowers. ”
My smile freezes. Something cold cracks through my ribs. “What?”
“I didn’t send you anything,” he repeats, this time clipped, razor-sharp. The voice he uses for enemies, not for me. “Where are you?”
“My office.” I’m whispering now. It’s too quiet in here. The hum of the building, the distant traffic outside—somehow it all feels too far away to help.
“Are they marked?”
I force myself to look. Really look . There’s no florist’s label, but there’s a card. No name. Just the words, “Watch your back.”
There’s silence on the other end. Then a low hiss of breath, barely contained fury. Or fear.
I bite down on my lip, racking my brain over who could’ve sent these. “You think it’s Cooper?”
“I don’t know,” he huffs, the sound so raw it makes something in me twist. I wish I hadn’t called. I wish I’d just pretended. Pretended I could believe in pretty gestures and normal relationships.
“Toss them,” he demands.
“But—”
“Cassie!”
“Okay,” I murmur. My hands tremble as I set the phone down on the desk and stare at the flowers.
Then I scoop up the vase and dump the whole thing into the trash bin under my desk. Glass clinks dully against the sides. Water splashes over my shoes. Petals stick to my palm like bruises.
Suddenly, the air in the room feels colder. The window rattles faintly behind me, a draft I swear wasn’t there before.
“It’s done,” I tell Axel.
“Good girl. Let me know if anything else happens.”
I don’t argue. I don’t question what he’ll do next. I just let the line go dead while my thoughts run wild. I sit down, fingers numb as I open the McKenzie file again. The words swim in front of me: contracts, statements, legal jargon. But I don’t see them.
I see flowers. I see the white petals. I see the lilies, so pure, hiding something rotten in their stems.
And just like that, the weekend feels a lifetime ago—like the warmth Axel left in my skin has been scrubbed off, replaced with something sharp and hollow.
I tell myself it’s fine. I’m fine. But the flowers say otherwise.