51. Lucy
51
Lucy
W alking into Christopher’s penthouse tonight feels… different. Lighter. Like I can finally breathe properly in this rarefied billionaire air without constantly waiting for the other shoe, or possibly an anvil labeled ‘Corporate Disaster,’ to drop.
Mark Blackwell is neutralized. Morgan Weiss is officially persona non grata (pending legal fireworks, which I will relish). The SPE cleanup is underway, terrifying but manageable now without active sabotage. And Christopher and I… we have a plan.
A chance.
He meets me just inside the entryway, a soft smile playing on his lips. The real kind, the one that makes my insides do ridiculous gymnastics.
He’s ditched the suit jacket and tie, and his sleeves are rolled up so that he looks unfairly relaxed and devastatingly handsome.
“Hi,” I say, feeling suddenly, stupidly shy despite everything.
“Hi, yourself, Ms. CEO,” he murmurs .
“I told you not to call me that—”
He leans down to brush a soft kiss against my lips. Just a brief touch, but it sends sparks straight down to my toes.
As he pulls back, I notice his left hand is tucked slightly behind his back. Holding something?
Ooh, intriguing. What’s Mr. Control hiding?
A playful grin spreads across my face.
“Whatcha got there, Blackwell?” I tease, trying to peek around him. “Secret documents? Plans for world domination?” My mind immediately goes to racier territory.
A new toy? Ooooo.
He did seem intrigued by my reaction to the last ‘party favor’.
What would it be this time? Anal beads? Some kind of high-tech, vibrating… squirrel? God, the possibilities with billionaire kink are probably endless and slightly terrifying.
“Come on,” I coax, stepping closer, poking his side playfully. “I thought we agreed, no more secrets between partners?”
He chuckles, a low, warm sound, deftly maneuvering so I still can’t see what he’s hiding.
“Patience, Hammond.” He captures my hand. “Actually, before dinner… there’s somewhere I want to take you.”
“Oh?” My curiosity is definitely piqued now. “More secret lairs? Bunkers?”
An underground dungeon where we’ll have some extra kinky sex?
“Something like that.” He leads me back towards the elevator. That sleek, silent, slightly terrifying metal box with no buttons.
Right. Billionaire transport.
He pulls out his phone, taps something on an app probably labeled ‘Elevator Control: Billionaires Only.’
The doors slide open silently and we step inside.
We go down one floor and the doors open onto a dimly lit, seemingly service-level corridor. At the end is, an unmarked, heavy wooden door.
“Seriously contemplating the bunker theory now,” I mutter as he unlocks the door, revealing a narrow, winding staircase leading upwards.
“Trust me,” he says again, his eyes glinting in the dim light.
Definitely some new sex toy. He wouldn’t be asking me to trust him, otherwise.
We climb the stairs, the air growing cooler with each step.
We emerge onto… paradise. A rooftop garden. I gasp, stunned into silence for a second.
It’s incredible. An oasis suspended high above the city chaos. Lush greenery, sculpted topiaries, twinkling fairy lights woven through trellises heavy with fragrant white blossoms.
Stone pathways wind between raised flower beds, leading to a small seating area under a pergola. And the view… dear god, the view. And I thought it was amazing from his penthouse suite. It’s like the entire freakin’ expanse of Manhattan is spread out below us, a breathtaking tapestry of light and shadow under the starry night sky.
It’s magical.
Unexpected.
And utterly romantic.
“Christopher… wow,” I breathe out, walking towards the edge, drawn by the panorama. “I didn’t even know this was up here.”
“It’s… private,” he says, coming to st and beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. “A place to escape the noise sometimes.” He pauses. “I’ve... never actually taken anyone else here before.”
“Glad to be your first,” I tell him.
We stand there for a long moment, just looking out at the city. His city. The one he conquered.
“You know,” he says quietly, his gaze fixed on the distant lights. “I used to look out at all this…” He gestures vaguely at the skyline. “…and see territory. Assets to be acquired. Competitors to crush. A battlefield to dominate.” He turns his head, his intense blue eyes finding mine in the soft light. “Now?” A slow, self-aware smile touches his lips. “My desire for conquest seems to have narrowed its focus considerably.” He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin. “Now, there’s only one piece of territory I’m interested in conquering completely.”
My breath hitches.
Oh.
That look, that touch, his words… my insides turn to warm honey.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” I whisper, leaning into his touch slightly. “From that disastrous tech expo… humping robot dogs included…”
He groans softly. “Don’t remind me.”
“…to hostile takeovers, sabotage, family vendettas… and somehow ending up… here.” Partners. Lovers. Standing on a secret rooftop garden overlooking the city. It feels surreal. Impossible.
Yet undeniably real.
“It wasn’t exactly a straight path,” he admits, his expression turning serious now, the playful intensity replaced by something deeper, more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen. He takes both my hands in his, his gaze holding mine captive.
“Lucy,” he begins, his voice low, slightly rough. “We started as adversaries. Circumstances, history, our own damn pride kept throwing obstacles in our way. We fought. We misjudged. We hurt each other.” He takes a deep breath. “But somewhere along the way… everything changed. I changed. You showed me there was a different way to build things, a different way to live. You challenged me, you trusted me even when I didn’t deserve it, you… saw me. The real me, under all the Blackwell bullshit.”
My heart aches with the raw honesty in his voice. Tears prickle my eyes.
“You,” he continues, his thumbs stroking the backs of my hands. “Are the strongest, smartest, most infuriatingly optimistic and fundamentally decent person I’ve ever known. You’re rebuilding your family’s legacy, fighting impossible odds, leading with integrity… and you somehow found room to… care about a cynical bastard like me.” He brings one of my hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against my knuckles. “I don’t just want a partnership in business, Lucy. I don’t just want you to move in.”
He releases one of my hands and reaches into his pocket.
Yay, the hidden object! The sex toy!
He pulls out a small, dark velvet box. My breath catches in my throat.
Oh no. Wait. That’s not a sex toy. Is he…?
He opens the box.
Inside, nestled against the dark velvet, glows a stunning sapphire ring, flanked by diamonds, set in elegant vintage platinum. It’s exquisite. Definitely old world. But it looks breathtaking. Significant.
Important.
He sinks onto one knee there on the rooftop garden, under the stars, holding the open box towards me, his intense blue eyes filled with terrifying, wonderful sincerity.
“Lucy Hammond,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you. More than I thought it was possible to love anyone. You are my partner, my anchor, my true north.”
My breath catches in my throat.
My true north? He… is he saying…? The exact feeling, the exact words I used in my own head when I finally understood what he meant to me, how he unconsciously guided me? He feels exactly the same thing!!
I’m literally crying buckets now. Joyful buckets, but buckets nonetheless.
“I want to spend the rest of my life building a future with you,” he continues. “Facing whatever comes next, together. Will you marry me?”
The city sounds fade away. The twinkling lights blur through my tears. All I see is him. Kneeling before me. Offering me not just a ring, but everything.
My lingering fears about adequacy, about our conflicting worlds… they don’t just crumble, they evaporate.
All that’s left is this overwhelming certainty.
Him.
Us.
Yes.
“Yes,” I finally choke out, the tears still streaming down my face, but smiling so wide my face hurts. “Oh my god, Christopher, yes! A thousand times, a billion times, yes!”
He lets out a shaky breath of relief, a huge, brilliant smile transforming his face as he slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly. He stands, pulling me into his arms, crushing me against his chest in a hug that feels amazing.
I cling to him, burying my face in his neck, laughing and crying at the same time. Engaged. To Christopher Blackwell. It’s insane. It’s perfect.
After a moment, I pull back just enough to look at him through blurry eyes, a slightly hysterical giggle bubbling up.
“You know,” I tell him, “I have such a dirty mind. When you were hiding the box, my brain didn’t leap to ‘engagement ring.’ It went straight to ‘sex toy.’ Like maybe high-tech, laser-guided nipple clamps!”
We both laugh.
“That could be arranged...” he tells me.
“I’m sure it can.” I laugh again, spitting out tears, then hug him tightly once more.
I just hold him for the longest time. Words feel so inadequate right now. I need… connection. Physical confirmation of this monumental shift.
I finally reach up, pulling his head down, my mouth finding his in a kiss that’s desperate, hungry, full of all the love and relief and sheer joy bubbling inside me.
He responds instantly, groaning low in his throat, his arms tightening around me. He lifts me effortlessly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he backs me towards the low stone wall at the edge of the rooftop.
Wait, that could be dangerous...
But when I look in his eyes, I see his unsaid words.
Trust me.
And I do.
The cool stone presses against my back through the thin fabric of my blouse. The city stretches out behind me, a glittering witness.
His hands are under my dress immediately, finding the bare skin of my thighs. The cool night air kisses my skin as he pushes the fabric higher. There’s no hesitation now, no careful exploration. Just raw, mutual need. A powerful affirmation of the commitment we just made.
He positions me against the wall, his body pressing mine against the stone. I feel the hard ridge of his cock against my core, already straining against his trousers. He fumbles briefly with his belt buckle, then he’s free, his cock thick and heavy in his hand.
No condom this time.
The thought barely registers.
All that matters is him. Inside me. Now.
He enters me in one swift, powerful thrust, burying himself deep.
I cry out, arching against him, taking all of him. He fills me completely, stretching me, claiming me.
He starts moving immediately, his rhythm urgent, passionate, driving into me again and again.
“Lucy.” He whispers my name like a vow with each thrust. “Lucy.” Deeper, slower, his grip bruising my hips as he drags me onto him, the stretch bordering on pain. “Lucy.” The third time, it’s a snarl, frayed at the edges, and I know he’s fighting to keep his rhythm steady and paced, but his fingers tremble where they dig into my skin.
Mine , that touch says. Mine now, mine always.
Stars blur above us, or maybe it’s the tears glazing my eyes as he angles deeper, hitting a place that makes my toes curl. The cold air bites my exposed skin, but all I feel is heat.
All sensation narrows down to his body moving within mine, the friction, the heat, the incredible pressure building towards release. I feel my climax approaching, sharp and inevitable.
“Mine,” he groans against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. “Finally. Completely mine.”
I come undone at the claim, a ragged scream tearing loose. “CHRISTOPHER!”
The waves crash over me, intense and consuming.
His control snaps with a roar, his hips stuttering. “LUCY!”
I feel him pulse inside me, his release hot and endless, his powerful body shuddering against mine as he pours himself into me.
“Mine,” he says again, but it’s different now. Softer, a promise etched in stone.
We cling together afterwards, shaking, breathless, hearts pounding in unison. The city air feels cool on our heated skin.
He rests his forehead against mine, his breathing ragged.
When I can finally speak, my voice is a shaky whisper.
“Just so we’re clear…” I manage, looking up into his love-filled eyes, the new sapphire on my finger catching the moonlight. “That was a billion times yes.”
He throws back his head and laughs, an unrestrained sound of pure joy that echoes in the quiet rooftop garden.
And holding onto him, high above the city, our future stretching out before us, I know, without a single doubt, that we can take on the world.
And we will.