Chapter 2
Chapter two
Three Months Later
The investor trip to Dubai ends in toasts and applause.
Sunlight glares off polished steel in the conference room high above the city.
Numbers are agreed to. Paper signed. Hands shaken.
A photograph is taken for posterity. I hold my expression steady, nod at the right moments and allow my colleagues to believe I’m focused solely on the scale of the transaction we finally closed.
After the hoopla, I’m on my way to the elevator when my phone vibrates. Julian. It’s not about the wedding, it’s only a five-word text.
Julian: Acquisition proposal. Full buy-out.
Patience prevails until I locate my driver.
Once I’m settled into my seat and on my way to the private hangar, I open the Letter of Intent.
It’s an absurd number with numerous zeroes.
The purchase price glares like a beacon.
My business. Everything I’ve spent the past decade building. Reduced to a price.
Shiny towers whizz past the window and one thought runs on a continuous loop.
Am I in a simulation?
I should be elated thinking about valuation and the structure of this deal.
Strangely, I’m bummed. Instead of returning to Seattle, I’m rerouting to New York. Closing a transaction of this magnitude requires my immediate presence. Eye contact. Vibes. The whole thing.
I’d hoped to make Monday dinner with Sky.
We haven’t seen each other since our last dinner, but we communicate nearly every day. Yesterday, she sent a photo of her desk at Finney Cooper, paper stacked in clean vertical lines, captioned with dry commentary about surviving another contentious divorce.
I sent her a photo of the skyline from Dubai, neon and impossible, accompanied by a quip about sovereign wealth fund managers behaving badly.
Everything is easy. Familiar.
Us.
I was looking forward to spending time with her. Our ritual matters more to me than most things in my life. Without fail, when we’re both in town, I show up. She shows up. No scheduling gymnastics. No calendar invites. It’s understood.
For years, it’s been the one place where I’m not compelled to negotiate, perform, or close. I sit. Breathe. Watch her tilt her head when she challenges me. Delight when the purple streak in her hair catches the light when she leans back in the booth.
Sky added it to her hairstyle about a decade ago after a particularly challenging year. A male associate threw her under the bus to a partner. He, in turn, chastised her for being too meek. She was devastated.
Everyone in our friend group propped her up. Encouraged her to be herself and the rest would follow.
A week later, we had our regular dinner at the Met. She showed up with a slash of bright violet framing her face. No explanation.
A declaration.
I won’t allow myself to be submissive.
She’s kept it ever since, I think, because it gives her the courage not to shrink. It’s a slightly softer shade now, woven nearly innocuously through her dark strands. I love it because it reminds me she belongs to no one but herself.
Our last dinner before I left for Dubai isn’t a comfortable memory the way most of our evenings are. It lingers in my body. Permeates my ribs when I’m alone, bringing to mind something we started and never finished.
When I told her I wanted her on my plane, she started up the usual banter but didn’t blow me off. Or deflect to get out of it. Instead, she went still. No sideways comments. Nothing clever to lower the temperature between us.
The air actually realigned. Not loudly or dramatically. Her beautiful face softened. I’d only seen her loosen up this much once before. The night of graduation. Her apartment. Half-packed to move across country. Mattress on the floor. A lamp in the corner casting soft light on her skin.
Sky watched me approach with a combination of desire and confusion. She didn’t retreat, though. She sank back slowly, palms flattening on the sheets behind her as she eased down.
I can still see her, spine curved like a cat. Hair fanned over the pillow. Shoulders relaxed only because she willed them to be. Her generous breasts rose and fell with each breath. Nipples darkening and taut under my stare. Thighs open enough to expose her glistening pussy.
To this day, I’ve never felt more trusted as when the woman I’d coveted for years exposed her most intimate parts to me.
This unexpected softness choked me up. When I lowered myself to taste Sky’s pussy for the first time, I remember looking up and watching her try to hold on to control…and the moment discipline slipped and desire replaced the caution in her eyes.
I didn’t rush because I knew our timing was wrong. I couldn’t keep her. Instead, I had to memorize every inch. The way her stomach flexed when I tasted her honey and musk. How her fingers slid through my hair and anchored me in place.
I remember the exact mewling sound she made the first time I made her come. When she finally stopped fighting it, her head tipped back and her body opened completely. Hours blurred as I made her go over and over again.
Skylar Morgan is addictive.
Last time I saw her at the Met, as we chatted I held her gaze longer than usual. Her throat moved before she could stop it. Her fingers gripped her glass like it was going to slip off the table.
With every fiber of my being, I knew she was remembering our night. How my lips coaxed orgasm after orgasm from her body.
I also knew it wasn’t the first time she’d thought about us.
If I’d had any doubts before, they were gone.
Once I’ve completed the sale of my company, it’s time for us to make new memories.
Plural.
Going forward, I don’t want one perfect night to be frozen in time while we continue to orbit around each other for the rest of our lives. I want Sky in my bed without a countdown to departure.
She’s my future. Without caveats.
The fact of the matter is, I’m hopelessly in love with her. Every time she looks at me, it gives me a flicker of hope.
Recognition. Heat.
Choice.
Instead of spending time with her before the wedding, I’ll be in New York, sitting in a glass office overlooking the Hudson while contemplating what my life will be if I sell.
We’ll talk about scale and strategic positioning.
They’ll talk about expansion and what my brand could become under different ownership.
Needing some advice from my best friend, I FaceTime Irving from the jet.
“You look exhausted.” He peers at me through the phone sitting at his kitchen counter.
I nod. “Dubai is done. Took longer than I wanted it to.”
“And?” He fills his water bottle from the tap.
I squeeze my eyes shut then open them again. “On my way out the door, Julian sent me a buy-out offer. British company. Lots of zeroes.”
“Wait.” He stills. The change is subtle but real. “For the whole business?”
“Yup.”
He exhales through his nose. “Are you tempted?”
I can’t help but sigh. “Dunno. I’m evaluating.”
Irving studies me with the same look he’s used since we were twenty-two. “Except, while you’re contemplating the situation, you’re headed straight into acquisition meetings, am I right?”
“Yup.”
“Good luck, golden-boy.” Irving takes a swig of water. “Now what about the wedding? Is Skylar still flying over with you or are you heading over straight from New York?”
“We’ll go together. I’ll fly back to Seattle the night before we’re scheduled to leave.”
He narrows his eyes. “Why make such a big effort? She’d totally understand the circumstances.”
“I made a promise.” I look out at the dark beyond the window then back at him through the screen. “Besides, it took me a long time to convince her. She’s not backing out now.”
He snorts. “Pull your head out of your ass, Zach.”
“Excuse me?” I furrow my brow
“Ah, fuck it.” A slow grin traverses his face. ‘Seven hours in a jet should be enough to move two idiots forward.”
I shake my head, reclining into the leather seat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t patronize. It’s simple.” He repositions his phone and squints at me. “You love her. She loves you. You’ve both been pretending otherwise since law school.”
“Shut the eff up,” I push back, not wanting to tip my hand just yet. “We’re friends.”
“You’ve hid behind those words for years.” He lifts a brow.
I shake my head. “No. I respect our ability to maintain a platonic relationship.”
“Lies.” Irving tilts his head, studying me through the screen. “You’ve been too scared to lose her and have decided to settle for what you can get.”
He isn’t wrong.
“She doesn’t want more,” I insist.
“She doesn’t want to risk more,” he corrects, resting his elbow on the counter. “There’s a difference.”
I exhale slowly. “You aren’t at our dinners.”
“No,” he agrees with a small shrug. “Except, over the years, I’ve seen you two eye-fucking each other many times. You aren’t exactly subtle, even when you think you’re stealth.”
A reluctant huff escapes me.
“Sky grew up watching her parents tear each other apart,” I try to explain. “Now she dismantles marriages for a living. She’s cynical. I don’t think she wants long-term anything.”
“No,” Irving’s tone softens. “I think she’s waiting for a safe landing.”
The word “safe” hovers between us.
“And you,” he adds, angling closer to the camera, “haven’t made things easy.”
I stiffen.
“You’ve thrown your love life in her face,” he continues. “You’re photographed with women who have a million Instagram followers and you confess all of it to her.”
“I’m not gonna sit home. I’m no martyr.” I narrow my eyes.
“I’m not judging your sex life,” he snarls. “I’m pointing out Sky’s been watching you treat everyone else like an actual option while she’s your Monday choice. Monday. For fuck’s sake.”
I go quiet.
He continues, gentler now. “Then, when she finally dates some, you critique his résumé until she breaks it off instead of telling her she deserves better.”
“I don’t want to overstep.” I wince.
“Nah. You’re protecting your access.” He holds my gaze. “Having your cake. Eating it too, etc.”
His words land squarely in my gut.
“She’s been in love with you for years.” Irving levels his tone a bit. “Do you really think she shows up to have dinner with you out of nostalgia?”
My jaw clenches. Irving’s read on the situation is insanely accurate considering he has no idea what happened fifteen years ago. “I’ve never wanted to corner her.”
“You wouldn’t be cornering her.” He straightens. “You’d be choosing her.”
I inhale slowly. “She doesn’t want more.”
“Zachary.” He arches a brow. “I’ve got to call this once and for all because she’s important to me too. Sky hides behind friendship for safety and you give her ambiguity.”
I close my eyes for a second.
“Look. Deny it all you want but know, I’m glad you’re finally making a move on our girl.” Irving crosses his arms. “I will warn you, don’t get her hopes up if you’re not gonna follow through.”
A faint smile pulls at my mouth. “You have no faith.”
“Since when am I religious?” he counters. “Look. Don’t let her think she’s optional.”
I can’t help but blurt, “She’s not.”
“Then say it to her.” He throws up his hands in exasperation.
“Fine,” I shout. “I’m done pretending.”
Irving nods once. “Good. Because I’m tired of watching you two circle.”
“This could ruin everything. She could walk away,” I admit my worst fear out loud.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Or she could finally hear what she’s been waiting for.”
“She’s mine,” I say with certainty.
Irving smiles, slow and satisfied. “Good. Make sure she knows it.”
We hang up, and the cabin falls quiet except for the steady hum of the engine. The clouds racing by my window blur into abstraction. With nothing solid enough to anchor to, I let the phone rest in my hand for a moment longer before setting it aside.
Irving’s words of advice don’t fade. They settle.
It’s long past time to stake my claim. I’ve spent years convincing myself patience was noble. Restraint was respect. Giving her space was proof of understanding.
No more.
Straightening in the seat, I close my eyes for a beat to visualize Sky walking toward me on the tarmac. The wind tugs at her coat. The purple streak catches light in contrast to the gray sky. She pretends she’s composed while the pulse in her forehead betrays her.
Yeah. I know her.
I can’t wait for a safer moment.
It’s time to go all-in.
Next week, by the time the wheels of my jet touch down in Prague, she won’t be able to pretend she isn’t mine.
Ever again.