Chapter 20
Ansel
The jet touches down early in the morning. I’m standing on the tarmac when the door opens, unable to wait the extra minutes it would take to meet them in the terminal.
Remy appears at the top of the stairs between Enzo and Breck, looking smaller than I’ve ever seen her. Exhaustion shadows her eyes, and when her gaze finds mine, something in my chest cracks.
I close the distance before she reaches the bottom step.
“You’re okay.” I frame her face with both hands, searching for injuries, for signs of trauma beyond the fear I can see in her eyes.
“Someone was in my room,” she says, her voice wavering.
“Nobody is going to touch you. We’ll talk when we get back home.” I pull her against me, one hand cradling the back of her head.
Enzo and Breck exchange a look over her head. They’re exhausted, too, but running on adrenaline.
The SUV is waiting, surrounded by three additional security vehicles. Adam, the head of our security team, stands by the door.
“Mr. Jacobs.” He inclines his head. “Everything’s ready at the penthouse. The full perimeter sweep was completed an hour ago. No anomalies.”
“Good.” I guide Remy toward the vehicle, my hand never leaving the small of her back. “No one in or out without my explicit approval.”
“Understood, sir.”
The drive into the city is silent except for Remy’s occasional shaky breath. She sits between Enzo and me while Breck takes one of the captain’s seats, all of us needing to maintain physical contact with her.
I’ve spent the last six hours orchestrating her protection.
New security protocols. Upgraded systems. Background checks on every person who has access to any building she frequents.
I’ve called in every favor, leveraged every connection, and allocated whatever resources necessary to ensure we put an end to the threat.
But as I watch her stare out the window at the pre-dawn city, I realize control over external threats isn’t enough. The fear in her eyes, the tremor in her hands—those are things no security system can fix.
We arrive at the penthouse, and I have faith in our abilities to keep her safe here.
I personally designed the security system five years ago, and since Trent’s first note, I’ve upgraded it twice.
Biometric scanners at every entrance. Cameras covering every angle.
Panic buttons in every room. Reinforced windows.
It should make me feel better. It doesn’t.
Remy stands in the middle of the living room, taking in the changes I’ve made during her absence.
“Ansel.” Her voice is quiet. “This is a lot.”
“It’s necessary.” I move to the windows, checking the street below. “Trent got into your hotel room. He breached security at one of the most exclusive hotels in Paris. That means he has more resources than we thought.”
“I know.” She wraps her arms around herself. “But turning your home into a fortress isn’t the answer. What’s next, a moat? Guard dragons? Should I expect a drawbridge by Tuesday?”
“It’s not a fortress. It’s protection.”
“It feels like a cage.” She meets my eyes, and the fear has been replaced by something more intense. “I can’t live like this.”
“You can.” I close the distance between us. “You will. Because the alternative is unacceptable.”
“The alternative being?”
“You getting hurt.” Even I can hear the edge in my voice. “You being afraid. You looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.”
Her expression softens. “Ansel, I don’t want to live like this.”
“I need you safe, Remy.” I reach out, then stop myself, my hand falling back to my side. “I need to know that you’re protected. That no one can touch you.”
She grabs my hand. “No one can promise that.”
“I can and I will.” I take a small step closer to her.
She studies my face, and I wonder what she sees. The control freak who can’t let go. The man who thinks he can solve everything with enough money and planning. The oldest brother, who has spent seventeen years trying to protect everyone and has failed more often than he has succeeded.
“You haven’t slept,” she observes.
“Neither have you.”
“That’s different. I was on a plane.” She squeezes my hand. “When did you last eat?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Ansel.” She says my name like a reprimand and a caress at the same time. “You can’t take care of me if you don’t take care of yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re running on fumes.” But she’s smiling now, gentle and knowing. “Go take a shower. Eat something. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I won’t be alone. Breck and Enzo are here. Adam and half your security team are surrounding the building.” She smiles. “I promise I’ll be here when you get back.”
The shower helps. The food helps more. By the time I’ve changed into clean clothes, the sun is rising over the city.
I find Remy in the kitchen making coffee. She’s changed into leggings and an oversized sweater that keeps slipping off one shoulder. Her hair is damp from her own shower, curling at the ends.
“Better?” She hands me a mug, exactly how I like it.
“Better.” I take a sip, then set it down. “Where are my brothers?”
“Sleeping. I sent them to bed.” She leans against the counter. “We need to talk.”
“About Trent.”
“About you.” She holds my gaze. “About this… your need to control everything.”
My spine straightens. “That need is what will keep you safe.”
“I know.” Her voice is soft. “And I’m grateful for it. But Ansel, you can’t control everything. You can’t plan for every contingency. And you’re going to drive yourself insane trying.”
“I’d rather be insane than helpless.”
“Is that what you think you are?” She moves closer. “Helpless?”
“When my parents died, I was helpless. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t fix our world falling apart.” The words spill out before I can stop them. “I swore I’d never feel that way again. That I’d never watch someone I care about get hurt while I stand by uselessly.”
Remy’s eyes glisten. “I’m not going to die, Ansel.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She reaches up, cupping my face. “We can’t live in fear of what might happen. We can be careful, we can be smart, but we can’t let Trent win by letting him control our lives.”
I close my eyes, leaning into her touch. “I don’t know how to do this any other way.”
“Yes, you do.” Her thumb brushes my cheekbone. “You’ve been doing it. Every time you let Enzo handle security his way. Every time you trust Breck with a negotiation. Every time you hire someone brilliant and let them do their job.”
“That’s different.”
“How?” she asks confidently.
“Because I can replace a brilliant analyst or negotiator. If they leave, I hire someone else.” I hold her gaze. “But there’s only one you, Remy. Your safety isn’t something I can delegate or replace. None of them is you.”
Remy’s breath catches, and when I open my eyes, she’s staring at me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“I know this is too much,” I tell her. “I know that I’m too intense and too controlling and—”
She kisses me. Her mouth crashes against mine with enough force that I have to brace my hand on the counter behind her. She tastes like coffee, and when her fingers thread through my hair, thinking becomes impossible.
I’ve wanted this for months. Wanted her. But I held back because of Damon, because I am her boss, and because of timing. I tried to convince myself I didn’t want her.
I was wrong.
I grip her waist and lift her onto the counter. She gasps against my mouth, and I use the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, and the sound she makes when our bodies align sends fire through my veins.
“Ansel.” My name on her lips is a plea, a demand for more.
I pull back enough to look at her. Her lips are swollen, her pupils blown wide. “Don’t try to maintain control. I don’t want you to hold back. I’m not going to break.”
I don’t respond and instead lift her off the counter, and she wraps her legs tighter around my waist. I carry her toward my bedroom, and she doesn’t protest. The penthouse is silent except for our breathing and the sound of us kissing as we move down the hallway.
When we get to my room, I set her down, and she turns to face me. I immediately see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curl into fists at her sides. She’s bracing herself for me to handle her carefully.
I’m not going to do that.
“Take off the sweater.” My voice is flat, commanding.
Her eyes widen slightly.
“Now, Remy.” I don’t move closer, don’t touch her. “Take it off.”
She grips the hem and pulls the sweater over her head in one fluid motion, dropping it on the floor. She’s wearing a thin black camisole underneath, and I can see her pulse racing at the base of her throat.
“The camisole, too.”
She hesitates for only a second before pulling it off. The black bra underneath does nothing to hide how her breathing has changed.
I nod toward the bra. “And that.”
Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches behind her back, unhooking it and letting it fall. She stands before me topless, wearing just her leggings, her chest heaving with defiance and desire warring in her expression.
I spin her around, pressing her forward onto the bed, so her stomach is pressed against the mattress. She gasps, catching herself on her forearms. My hands find the waistband of her leggings, and I pause—one last moment of restraint. “Do you want this?”
“Don’t you dare stop.” She looks back at me over her shoulder, and there’s a challenge in her eyes.
I strip the leggings down her legs.
She kicks them away. “I want you to—”
But her words are cut off as I run my hand up the back of her thigh, and she shivers.
"You want me to what?" I grip her hip, stopping her words before they form.
She answers in a whimper, but with no coherent words.
My hand slides up her spine. "You're mine. And I take care of what's mine."
“Ansel.” My name is on her lips again, and this time, it comes out shaky.