Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CONSTANCE
I wake up feeling like something isn’t right. The sheets are too soft, the ceiling’s too high, and there’s an aroma that doesn’t match my home. A quiet that instantly sets my mom-alarm on fire.
Then it comes rushing in. I’m not at home. I’m in Morgan Creed’s house.
Last night wasn’t a dream or a moment I can reshape into something harmless. Last night definitely makes things more complicated. I knew it was wrong to sleep with him. My heart knew it as well, but at the moment I didn’t care. But now the weight of what we did presses down on me, suffocating me.
I glance over and see Morgan still sleeping soundly beside me.
For a man who controls everything around him, he looks disarmingly unguarded like this.
His face is relaxed, the hard lines I’m used to seeing softened by sleep.
There’s no crease between his brows, no tension in his jaw.
His lashes rest, dark against his cheeks, and the early light catches in his blond hair, all rumpled like it never quite stays where it’s told.
His beard is trimmed, but rough enough to hint at neglect, or maybe intention, and his mouth is set in a way that makes him look younger, almost gentle.
A piece of my heart melts before I can stop it, and that scares me more than anything that happened last night.
I quickly shake off the feeling, forcing myself back into reality.
What happened crossed a line. It was a mistake, at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I don’t regret it, not really, but regret isn’t the problem.
Consequences are. At any moment, Morgan Creed could decide to fire me.
Or worse, decide this was something he wants documented and reported, tucked neatly into an HR file like a stain that won’t wash out.
I watch his chest rise and fall once more, steady and calm, and wonder how a man who looks so peaceful asleep can make everything feel so dangerously unstable when he’s awake.
I need to get out of here. I need to go home and get Chance.
Forget all about how amazing Morgan made me feel last night.
I toss the blanket off of me and sit up slowly, slipping out of the bed.
My eyes gaze around the room, looking for my clothing when I see my dress folded neatly on the chair.
Of course it is. Even chaos in Morgan’s world is controlled.
He must have done it after I fell asleep.
I move carefully through the unfamiliar space, dressing quietly, trying to rebuild the emotional walls that came down far too easily last night. I’ve just slipped the straps of my dress over my arms when I hear his deep voice.
“You’re up early.” I freeze for half a second before turning. Morgan stands at the bed, naked, a pair of pants in hand.
Did he just wake up? How did I not hear him?
He continues to dress, remaining composed the entire time, perfectly unbothered by what happened last night.
“Constance.” He says my name, gazing at me intently as he buttons up his shirt.
“I need to get home.”
He nods. “Coffee first. Then I’ll take you.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and slips on his dress shoes before standing, moving across the room, closing the distance between the two of us. He places his hand at the base of my back, guiding me out of the room.
In the kitchen, sunlight gleams through the window, bouncing off the marble on the counters and the steel stove. He moves through the room as if it's second nature, pouring coffee for the woman he fucked the night before.
He sits down in the chair across from me, sipping his steaming cup of coffee as he scrolls through his phone. “We have a nine a.m. appointment with legal on Monday,” he says without emotion. “And a site visit after lunch.”
“I’m aware of your schedule,” I tell him, trying for casual and missing by a mile.
I lift my eyes to his, searching his face. My voice drops despite me.
“Are we just going to forget about what happened between us last night?”
The question lingers, carrying more hope than I meant to give it.
He meets my gaze, his expression unreadable.
“I am very aware you know my schedule. In fact, I applaud the fact that you do your job so well. I was merely reiterating what we have on our schedule for Monday.” Then he pauses, sitting his cup down on the table as he shifts in his position.
“As for forgetting last night, don’t count on it. ”
I bite my lip as I grip the handle of the cup tighter. “What we did last night can’t happen again. It complicates things.”
He doesn’t respond at first. Merely smiles. “You chose to stay. Choices have consequences, Constance. Pretending otherwise won’t erase them. But rest assured, if I want it to happen again, it will. You’ll be begging for it. Now finish your coffee so I can take you home.”
The drive home is quiet, as the tension sits heavy between us. When he pulls up in front of my house, engine idling, we both just sit there. Neither of us move to get out of the car. He finally speaks, his voice low, certain. “You’ll be with no one else. You’re mine now.”
My heart races at his words. “I belong to no one,” I whisper as I turn my head to look at him. How dare he.
Irritation flickers across his face briefly, then shifts into a slow, knowing smirk.
“You’ll learn soon enough that you’re mine. I’ll let you deny it now if it makes you feel better. But rest assured, you will follow my rules.”
I force a smile. How wrong he is. “I’ll let you think you’re right. That there’s no one else because you declare that, but the truth is there’s no one lining up to take on my baggage.”
Before he can respond, I open the door and leave him sitting there as I head up the sidewalk into my house. I need to change and get Chance, and try as hard as I can to forget about the most amazing sex I had last night. I also have a dessert to make.
Once I’ve changed, I peek out the door to make sure Morgan is gone before walking across the yard to Mr. Bartholomew’s. I knock on the door, laughing softly when I hear Chance’s excited voice on the other side. Mr. Bartholomew opens the door with a huge smile on his face.
“Did you have fun?” he asks warmly before I can say anything.
“I did. Thank you again for watching him on short notice. And for keeping him overnight. I’ll be making your payment later today.” I wink.
“I can already taste it. Anytime you need a sitter, just let me know, Constance. I enjoyed having him over last night. My grandchildren don’t live nearby, so I miss having them spend the night.”
Bringing Chance home resets something inside me. The weight of the night drifts away as he chatters about pancakes and cartoons. The most important part was how Papa Bartholomew let him put chocolate chips in the batter. Apparently, he is now Chance’s Papa, and that’s what he is to call him.
How did I get blessed with such an amazing neighbor?
We spend the rest of the morning making the dessert for Mr. Bartholomew before ordering pizza from our favorite restaurant.
“Can we play mini-golf tomorrow?” Chance asks as we head out the door to take the dessert and tea to Mr. Bartholomew.
“Of course. As long as you get your room clean,” I tell him.
“Can I keep score?”
“If you want.” How could I deny him, especially when he looks so happy? Spending time with my son is my favorite thing to do.