Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
M y eyes shoot up the second I sense him.
That presence. That energy.
He doesn’t announce himself. Doesn’t let my assistant warn me. Of course not. That would’ve given me time to prepare myself, and Axel Bonanno never plays fair.
He’s standing in my office like he owns it—door shut, locked behind him—like the whole world’s paused for his dramatic entrance. And I hate how much I love it. How much I missed him, even when I’m still mad as hell.
I hang up mid-call without an apology, leaning back in my chair to study him. Calm. Composed. Except for the way my stomach knots with the force of his gaze on me.
“What are you doing here?” I manage, forcing my voice into something confident.
He steps closer. “We need to talk.”
“We do?” I raise a brow, pretending like I don’t already know why he’s here.
Like I didn’t storm out of his house three nights ago, furious, heartbroken, and still aching for the bastard.
He never called. Never texted. I thought I was making a point, but now he’s here, and the energy between us is already coiled too tight to ignore .
“You know we do,” he says flatly, and I hear it—his frustration. His disappointment. Like I’m the one who left him.
He walks around my desk like a panther, smooth and dangerous. I instinctively roll my chair back, but he just follows, positioning himself between me and whatever I was working on.
“Cassie,” he murmurs, crossing his arms, gaze locked on mine. “Do you remember when I asked if I could trust you?”
I nod slowly, even as doubt creeps in. His voice is too calm— too measured—like he's balancing on the edge of something sharp and refusing to let it cut him. And that scares me more than if he’d shouted. I know Axel. I know what silence means when it comes from him.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip, trying to dam the flood of thoughts behind it. All the things I want to say—need to say—but can’t. Not yet. The words feel jagged in my throat, and I’m terrified that if I let one out, they’ll all come crashing through like glass shattering on tile.
Then he moves.
His hand reaches for me—slow, deliberate, no hesitation—and I feel it like a jolt.
Not rough. Not rushed. Just sure. Fingers curl around my arm first, warm and firm, grounding me in the storm of my own indecision.
The space between us disappears in a breath, and before I can stop myself, I lean into it—into him.
There’s something in the way he touches me—like he’s not just reaching for my body but for all the parts of me I keep barricaded behind walls and logic and self-preservation.
His hand slides up, finding the curve of my neck, then tangling in my hair like a man who’s been starving for the feel of me.
And maybe he has.
Maybe I have, too.
The air between us thickens, tension humming like a live wire, and I don’t pull away.
I can’t.
Because I know this— us —whatever twisted, beautiful mess we are, it’s not finished. Not by a long shot .
He pulls me from the chair like it’s nothing, cages me against his chest, fingers weaving into my hair like he’s claiming territory he never really lost. My hands land on his chest, and it’s solid, warm, safe.
“I trust you,” he murmurs into my hair, voice low and guttural. “I trust you so much that it scares me. But having Hunter follow you—that was only ever about your safety. I won’t apologize for that.”
I tilt my head back, meeting his eyes. There’s no mask this time. No calculated charm. Just Axel, stripped bare in a way only I get to see. And it hits me like a punch to the ribs—how much I actually love him.
“I should’ve told you,” he adds, softer now. “That’s on me. But it was always to keep you safe.”
I close my eyes, resting my forehead against his chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, even if I don’t know exactly what for—maybe for walking away. For not understanding. For not trusting him the way he needed me to.
“I don’t want your apology, Cassie.” His hands lift to my face, tilting it gently so I’m forced to meet those piercingly dark eyes, the ones that hold so much violence. I swear I could fall into them and never hit the bottom.
“Then what do you want?” I ask, barely breathing, my gaze flickering to his mouth. He sees it. I want him to see it.
“You. I only want you.” His voice is low, almost reverent, but there's a tension behind it, like he’s afraid if he says it too loud, it’ll all disappear.
He holds my face like I’m fragile and dangerous all at once—like I could shatter or detonate, and he’s willing to risk either just to keep me close.
His thumb brushes my cheek, slow and trembling, like he’s memorizing the feel of me.
“You’ve ruined you, Cassie. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m fucked if I have to live a life without you.”
The words hit me like a sucker punch.
I blink, stunned. Not because of the confession—not really. I knew . Deep down, beneath all the smirks and arguments, beneath the tension that crackled every time he said my name like it meant more than it should—I knew he felt something.
But it’s how he says it.
So raw. So un-Axel.
There’s no mask. No carefully measured silence or cryptic half-truth.
Just him, bleeding honesty into the space between us.
It shakes me more than if he’d raised his voice or lost his temper.
This is the man who controls rooms with a glance.
Who speaks in commands and never, never lets himself be seen like this.
And yet, here he is—open, vulnerable, looking at me like I already hold his heart in my hands and he’s just waiting to see what I’ll do with it.
“I can love you, if you let me, because I want to give you the world.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out. My brain scrambles to respond, to find the right thing to say, but my chest is too tight. Too full. His words echo in my ribs, reverberating against every wall I’ve ever built to keep people like him out.
But Axel isn’t just anyone.
He’s the storm and the shelter.
And for the first time, I’m not sure which scares me more.
“ Can love me?” I repeat, brows furrowing.
“Only if you let me.”
God .
I can’t keep the distance anymore. I don’t want to. I throw my arms around his neck, pressing into him like he’s the only thing keeping me upright. His scent fills my lungs—leather, spice, that intoxicating thing that’s just him. My breath hitches. I’ve missed this. Missed us.
“Does this mean Hunter can stop following me now?” I whisper with a shaky laugh, my forehead resting against his lips.
He chuckles, low and warm. “Not a chance.”
I pull back, and his eyes drop immediately—to the bruise under my eye. The humor in his expression vanishes. His whole body goes rigid. I can feel the rage radiating off of him, tightly leashed but pulsing hot just beneath the surface.
Before he can spiral, I cut in. “I need to report this to the police.”
He freezes. “You can’t do that, baby.”
I narrow my eyes and drop back into my chair, crossing my arms. “Why not?”
His stare pins me down. “I need you to trust me.” There’s something behind the words. Not just the obvious meaning—but something deeper. A test. A line being drawn.
I hesitate. “Ax?—”
“It’s your turn to trust me.” he states. “Can you do that?” This time it’s a question, laced with demand.
“…Yes.”
He leans in, bracing his arms on either side of the chair, locking me in. “Trust me on this.”
I breathe out slowly, letting the tension crackle between us. When his thumb brushes my lip, I don’t stop him. I can’t. And when I smile—small, involuntary—he looks like he could fall to his knees.
“What’s in it for me?” I murmur, letting just a hint of mischief creep back into my voice.
That smirk I love—dangerous and smug—curves across his face.
“Get on the desk and I’ll show you.”
I barely have time to nod before he’s on the move. Grabbing me by the hips, he plants me on the desk, his hands gliding up my thighs, bunching my skirt around my waist. Pushing my back to the desk, he lowers himself to his knees, spreading me open with deliberate ease.
I suck in a breath as the chill in the air brushes against my exposed skin, making me gasp the moment it hits the slick heat of my center.
Slowly, he slides my panties down, predictably stealing the lace once they reach my ankles—because of course he does. Axel never leaves me anything to hide behind.
“You’re going to get me fired,” I whisper, breathless, but he doesn’t even pretend to care.
He grins against my thigh, nipping and kissing his way upward, tongue tracing fire across my skin. “Then be quiet, baby.”
He hooks his hands behind my knees, pulling me closer to the edge of the desk, and I can’t help the way my breath hitches. He knows me too well—knows that silence is impossible when he touches me like this. He always brings out a version of me that’s louder, needier, utterly unrestrained.
I look down just as he licks his lips, and the sight alone sends heat coiling low in my belly. There’s something unspeakably hot about Axel on his knees, eyes dark, ravenous—worshipping me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted.
When his mouth finally meets me, my head tips back.
His tongue licks a slow, deliberate stripe, and my fingers tangle in his hair before I can stop myself.
A moan catches in my throat the moment two fingers slide inside me.
I grip the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded, hips arching helplessly toward him.
“Axel,” I gasp, the sound of his name barely escaping my lips as he circles my clit with that wicked tongue. There’s no way I’ll stay quiet. None.
He chuckles, low and smug, and the vibration against my swollen flesh makes me whimper. He devours me with long, languid strokes, spreading my arousal with every glide of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers. The sounds—his soft growls, the slick, messy pleasure of it—drive me wild.