Chapter 10 #2
It wasn't a pretty sound. It was raw. Primal. She threw her head back, her body bowing, clamping down on me so hard it felt like she was trying to keep me inside her forever.
The sight of her—undone, powerful, mine—shattered my control.
I thrust up, once, twice, three times.
I poured myself into her.
I didn't just release tension. I released the fear. I released the anger at my father. I released the loneliness that had been my constant companion for twenty-two years.
I gave it all to her.
We collapsed.
She fell forward, landing on my chest. Her heart was beating so fast it felt like a hummingbird trapped in a cage. Her skin was slick with sweat, sticking to mine.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight. I buried my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of vanilla and sex.
Silence reclaimed the room.
But it wasn't the heavy, oppressive silence of the penthouse I was used to. It was a warm silence. A shared silence.
We lay there for a long time. The only sound was our breathing syncing up.
Eventually, Amara stirred. She lifted her head, resting her chin on my sternum.
“Wow,” she whispered.
I let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Wow.”
She traced the line of my jaw with a trembling finger.
“Ezra?”
“Mmm?”
“That wasn't… that wasn't fake.”
I opened my eyes. I looked at her.
“No,” I said. “It wasn't.”
She bit her lip. “So what does that mean? For the contract? For tomorrow?”
I tightened my arms around her.
“It means the stakes just got higher,” I said.
“Because now it’s real?”
“Because now,” I said, my voice dropping to a fierce whisper, “if he tries to hurt you… I won’t just be polite. I’ll burn the city down.”
She smiled. It was a small, sad smile.
“Ezra Sterling, the arsonist. Who knew?”
She rolled off me, curling into my side. I pulled the black silk sheet over us.
I stared up at the mirror on the ceiling. I saw us. Tangled limbs. Dark and light.
I realized then that I had broken every single rule in my father’s ledger.
I had let emotion dictate my actions. I had lost control. I had invested in a high-risk asset with no guarantee of return.
And as I felt Amara’s breathing even out into sleep, as I felt the warmth of her body against mine, I knew the terrifying truth.
I was in love with her.
I was in love with the enemy. I was in love with the chaos.
And tomorrow night, I was going to have to look my father in the eye and lie to him. I was going to have to pretend this was just business.
Because if he knew it was love… if he knew she was my weakness…
He would tear her apart just to teach me a lesson.
I closed my eyes, pulling her closer.
Let him try.
I wasn't the boy with the ledger anymore. I was the man with the girl. And for her, I would break the world.
The Next Morning
The sun hit the penthouse like a laser beam.
I woke up alone.
Panic, cold and sharp, spiked in my chest. I sat up, ignoring the stiffness in my knee.
“Amara?”
The bathroom door opened.
She walked out. She was wearing my t-shirt again. Her hair was wet, combed back. Her face was scrubbed clean.
She looked pale.
She was holding a garment bag. The garment bag. The one containing the dress for tonight’s dinner.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey.” I rubbed my face. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn't sleep,” she said. She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, keeping a careful distance.
“Ezra, about last night…”
I tensed. Here it comes. The regret. The panic.
“It was incredible,” she said. “But…”
“But?”
“But tonight is the dinner. And I’ve been thinking.”
She looked down at her hands.
“If we go in there looking like… looking like this,” she gestured between us, “he’s going to know. He’s going to see it. You said he smells weakness.”
“Love isn't weakness,” I said automatically.
She looked at me, her eyes sad.
“In your world? Yes, it is. In your father’s world, love is leverage.”
She stood up, pacing to the window.
“We have to dial it back, Ezra. Tonight. We have to be cold. We have to be the power couple. If I look at you the way I want to look at you… he’ll eat us alive.”
I watched her. She was right. Logically, she was absolutely right.
But the thought of pretending not to care about her, after last night, made me sick.
“I don’t know if I can,” I admitted.
She turned back to me. A fierce determination hardened her features.
“You have to,” she said. “You have to be the Iceman one last time. For me. For us.”
She walked back to the bed and leaned down. She kissed me. It was a soft, chaste kiss. A promise.
“We survive tonight,” she whispered. “We get his approval. We secure your legacy. And then… then we figure out the rest.”
She pulled back.
“Get dressed, Sterling. We have a show to put on.”
I watched her walk out of the room.
I fell back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling mirror again.
My reflection stared back. I looked different. The eyes were the same color, but the emptiness was gone. It was replaced by fear.
And hope.
I got out of bed.
I put on the suit. I put on the tie. I put on the watch that cost more than a car.
I put on the armor.
But underneath it, my heart was beating a frantic, chaotic rhythm.
Amara. Amara. Amara.
I was ready for war.