Chapter Forty Sloane
L eo, Rivers’ legendary ma?tre d’, actually takes a step back when we walk in.
I can’t blame him. My Marchesa dress, which started the evening as a masterpiece of red silk, now looks like I’ve gone three rounds with a paper shredder.
Cole’s tactical gear is barely concealed by his overcoat, and there’s a faint dusting of glass in his hair that catches the light like frost.
Leo opens his mouth—probably to suggest we might be more comfortable somewhere else—but Cole just looks at him. It’s not threatening, exactly, but it carries the weight of a man who’s spent the night destroying everything Julian built.
“Your usual corner table, Mr. Asher?” Leo asks, already reaching for the menus. Cole nods, and we follow him through the restaurant.
The view of Manhattan stretches out before us, everything dusted in snow and twinkling with Christmas lights. It would be magical if I wasn’t so aware of the other diners stealing glances at us.
“Bloody Mary,” I tell the waiter before he can even hand me a menu. “Extra bloody.”
Cole’s lips twitch. “Coffee. And two orders of the cinnamon rolls.” He glances at me. “Unless you want your own order?”
“I think I’ll start with the vodka and see where that takes us.”
The waiter hurries away, probably grateful for an excuse to escape the intensity radiating from our table. Cole’s hand hasn’t left my lower back since we walked in, and his eyes keep scanning the room in a way that would seem paranoid if we hadn’t just survived what we did.
“The police will want statements,” he says quietly, thumb moving in small circles against my spine. “Knox is handling the initial reports, but—”
“Can we maybe save the criminal proceedings discussion until after I’ve had my drink?”
His expression softens. “Of course. What would you prefer to discuss? The weather? The stock market? The fact that you managed to make two trained Russian mercenaries argue about vodka brands for five hours?”
That startles a laugh out of me. “They were very passionate about their opinions. I think Boris is still mad that Vladimir prefers Grey Goose.”
“I assume those aren’t their real names.”
“Probably not. But they seemed to enjoy it when I started using them.”
The Bloody Mary arrives, garnished with enough vegetables to count as a small salad. I take a long sip, feeling some of the tension start to ease.
I reach across the table and take his hand. His fingers tighten around mine immediately.
“I thought my surveillance and security measures would be enough.” He looks down at our joined hands. “I never imagined he’d be bold enough to take you from our home. That’s on me. All of it.”
I study his face, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. The man who plans for every contingency, who anticipates every move, is torturing himself over the one possibility he didn’t see coming.
“You’re right. It is on you,” I agree, my voice firmer than I intended. “You put my face in a biometric system that could access Claire’s designs without telling me. You made me Julian’s target without giving me the chance to understand what I was walking into.”
His face pales. “The biometrics—I never thought he’d try to use you to access the case. That was meant to be a safeguard, a way to protect Claire’s legacy by giving access to someone I trusted completely.”
“But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about it.” The hurt in my voice is clear. “How did you even get my biometric data? When did that happen?”
“The security system in the penthouse,” he admits, looking ashamed.
“The first week you moved in. I... I told myself all the cameras, all the viewing, all the control... it was for your protection. To be completely honest... I forgot I even did it or I would have told you when I came clean about everything.”
I pull my hand back and take another long sip of my drink.
His voice breaks. “There’s no excuse. None.”
I sit with that for a moment, then sigh. “I forgive you,” I say softly, meaning it. “We both made it through. And maybe now we can actually build something with no more secrets between us.”
His eyes meet mine, relief washing over his features. “No more secrets,” he agrees, his thumb tracing over my knuckles. “I promise.”
The cinnamon rolls arrive, still steaming, drowning in icing. Cole’s entire focus shifts, and I have to bite back a smile at his obvious delight.
“I’m starting to think you only brought me here for the pastries.”
“I brought you here because—” He stops, reaching out to brush something from my cheek. “Because I want us to start a Christmas tradition. Cinnamon Rolls at Rivers.”
“Tradition means more than one time, you know...” I’m fishing for more. No doubt about it.
“I know exactly what tradition means.” He leans back, his eyes serious. “I never want to feel that helpless again. Not being able to reach you, to protect you—”
I offer a soft smile. “Hey. I’m here. We’re here.”
He presses a kiss to my knuckles, his lips warm against my chilled skin. “You’re right. We’re here. And I plan on keeping it that way.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood. “Is that your way of saying you’re never letting me out of your sight again?”
Cole laughs, a real one that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I suppose that’s too much to hope for.”
Cole’s cell buzzes and he takes a minute to read the text. A smile on his face tells me he received good news. “Maya’s found. She managed to get away and was laying low with her family in Jersey, but she’s safe and returning home as we speak.”
I release a breath. “Oh thank god.” I take another long drink.
“Knox says she’s unharmed.”
The waiter appears then, refilling my drink and leaving a fresh carafe of coffee for Cole. We place our breakfast orders—Eggs Benedict for me, steak and eggs for him.
As the waiter departs, Cole’s gaze turns serious again. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small box, placing it on the table between us.
“Okay, enough of the dark stuff. We need something lighter.”
My heart stutters. “Cole, what—”
“Open it.” His voice is soft but insistent.
With trembling fingers, I lift the lid. Nestled inside is a key. I look up at him, unspoken questions in my eyes.
“It’s to my place,” he explains. “I want you to have it. I want...” He takes a breath. “Your collection is complete. New Year’s is almost here. And we have never actually discussed what’s next. I want you to officially move in. Not because of a contract. But by choice. Both of our choices.”
Emotions clog my throat. This man—this strong, brave, cinnamon roll–loving man—is offering me more than just access to his apartment. He’s offering me a future. A partnership in every sense of the word.
I slide my hand into his, the key pressed between our palms. “Cole, I... I don’t know what to say.”
He smiles softly. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I know it’s a big step. I just wanted you to know where I stand. Where I hope we’re heading.”
I nod, blinking back the sudden dampness in my eyes. “Can I... can I think about it?”
“Of course.” He squeezes my hand. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
I drink some more of my Bloody Mary, the spice and the vodka bolstering my courage. I set the glass down with a decisive clink.
“Okay, I’ve thought about it.”
Cole raises an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “That was quick.”
“What can I say? I’m a decisive woman.” I lean forward, my eyes locked on his. “Yes, Cole Asher. Yes, I will move in with you.”
His grin could light up the entire restaurant. “You’re sure? You don’t need more time to consider the pros and cons? Make a list? Sleep on it?”
I shake my head, laughing. “Nope. I’m sure. Completely, utterly, one hundred percent sure.”
“Well then.” He lifts his coffee mug in a toast. “To new beginnings and quick decisions.”
The rest of the meal passes in a blur of warm smiles, shared bites, and the occasional brush of fingers. By the time we step outside, the snow has stopped, leaving the city blanketed in white.
Cole tucks me into his side as we walk, his arm a solid warmth around me. “So, what’s the verdict on this new Christmas tradition of ours?”
I lean into him, smiling. “I think it’s a keeper. Though next year, I vote we skip the life-threatening situations leading up to it.”
He chuckles. “Deal.” His car pulls up and he assists me inside. “I have someplace to take you. I want to show you your Christmas present.”
As if on cue, a sleek black car pulls up to the curb. Cole opens the door, assisting me into the plush leather interior before sliding in beside me. He leans forward to murmur something to the driver before settling back, his hand finding mine.
I tilt my head, curiosity piqued. “Where are we going? I thought we were heading home.”
An enigmatic smile plays at his lips. “I have someplace I want to take you first. Call it one of your many Christmas presents.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I think I’ve had my fill of surprises for the next twenty-four hours, Cole. Between Russian mercenaries and unexpected house guests, I’m not sure my heart can take much more excitement.”
He chuckles, bringing our joined hands to his lips for a quick kiss. “I promise, this surprise involves significantly less adrenaline. Trust me.”
“Always.” The word comes without hesitation, without doubt.
As the city lights blur past the windows, I allow my mind to wander, trying to puzzle out our destination. A new restaurant? A private art showing? With Cole, the possibilities are endless.
Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up to a building I’ve passed a hundred times—one of those gorgeous old industrial conversions with huge windows and exposed brick.
Cole leads me inside, and I’m immediately struck by the light.
Even in the early morning, it floods the space, catching on pristine white walls and gleaming hardwood floors.
“What is this?”
“This”—he pulls a set of keys from his pocket—“is your new atelier.”
I stare at him. “My what?”
“Come on.” He takes my hand, leading me through the space.
“Main gallery here. Private showing room through there. Your personal workspace is upstairs, with a view of the park. And here...” He opens a door to reveal a series of workstations.
“Room for your team. I was going to hire them all too but decided I’d leave that to you.
Once your collection is revealed on New Year’s, your life is going to change drastically.
You’re going to have so many orders, demands. .. you’re going to need a good team.”
“Cole.” My voice catches. “This is...”
“Yours.” He presses the keys into my hand. “The security system is state of the art. Biometric locks, reinforced storage, surveillance—”
I lean into him, my heart so full it feels fit to burst. “This is incredible, Cole. Truly. I don’t know how to thank you.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “You never have to thank me. Seeing you happy, knowing you’re safe and doing what you love... that’s all I want.”
I twist in his arms to face him, my hands sliding up to cup his face. “I love you, Cole Asher. More than I ever thought possible.”
His smile softens, his eyes shining with emotion. “I love you too, Sloane. Now and always.”
I spot one of the cameras in the corner and can’t help but laugh. “Really? More cameras?”
“What can I say? I like seeing you when you’re sleeping...” His arms slide around my waist. “Next to me. And I want to know when you’re awake... when you aren’t next to me.”
“That’s either the most romantic or the most stalkerish thing you’ve ever said.”
Cole’s embrace tightens as he chuckles. “I prefer to think of it as romantic, but I suppose there’s a fine line.”