Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
Novalee
It was a mistake to come down here early. The street outside my apartment is quiet, but the nerves and anticipation inside me are loud enough to fill the space. I can’t help but shift from foot to foot, anxiety buzzing through me as I tug at my top. Casual, I remind myself, even though that’s a loose definition when it comes to my wardrobe.
My closet is divided into glittery clubwear and ratty clothes, so this outfit was the best I could do—jeans that make my ass look good, a bit of glitter on the top because, well, that’s me, and just enough cleavage to make a point.
I’ve been checking my phone every ten seconds, definitely because of my nerves about the drive. It has nothing to do with seeing Nicholas.
Absolutely nothing to do with him and his stupidly perfect face.
Speaking of perfect faces, Koen’s words echo in my mind then, the calm, steady instructions he gifted me with, repeating them until they finally stuck in my chaotic brain.
“ Just focus on breathing. On the now. You’re safe. ”
I practice it as I breathe deeply, and my mind has just started to settle when my phone buzzes in my hand with a message from the man himself as if he felt I was thinking about him.
Fucking mentalist.
How are you holding up?
I stare at the text for a second, feeling heat rise in my cheeks.
Why is he even texting me after last night?
After I spilled my guts, dredged up the worst parts of myself, and then practically threw myself at him. Only to be turned down. I practically melted onto his lap, sobbing my heart out and begging for an escape, and he didn’t want to sleep with me.
He pity finger fucked me.
It was embarrassing. Mortifying, even. I might have found the one straight guy who doesn’t want to fuck me. And, of course, he’s one of the guys I’d really like to fuck.
Still, a part of me knows it was worth it. I mean, yeah, I feel exposed, raw, and embarrassed as hell, but based on the newfound sense of relief I’ve been carrying alongside those emotions ever since my breakdown.
I think I needed to say those things out loud, even if only once.
Koen gets it, maybe not the guilt or the specifics, but he understands the loss, how I’ve been dragging it around like a shadow all these years.
He got me thinking about the other Rosie, though. His Rosie. I’ve been sitting in front of her grave for years, using it as a stand-in, but I never thought about who she was. Or how she died. Just thinking about it puts a heavy weight on my chest .
I should bring her flowers or something.
My phone buzzes again, pulling me out of my thoughts once more.
Don’t leave me on read, Little Thief.
He isn’t here yet. You don’t have to worry about me.
You know people still worry even if you say don’t worry, right?
Before I can think of a reply, a black Porsche pulls up to the curb.
Of course, he drives a Porsche.
The thing is all dark, glossy curves like it rolled off the set of some action movie or out of a luxury showroom. Nicholas steps out in a pair of jeans that look as though they were made for him, a fitted shirt that clings to his broad chest and shoulders in all the right places, hair perfectly styled.
We seem to have both gotten the dress code memo of ‘casual but hot.’
The soft light of dusk catches his face, casting shadows over his jaw, and that stupidly perfect smile spreads across his lips as I quickly type out a reply to Koen.
He’s here. Gotta go.
I click off my phone, slipping it into my purse as he approaches, his warm gaze taking me in. My fingers brush against the USB I packed, making sure it’s still there in case this evening ends up at his place after all.
“Hey, you,” he says, stepping in close and wrapping me in a hug like last time—way too comforting.
I pull back, smiling up at him. “Hey, yourself. ”
He glances up at my building, taking in the worn brick, maybe even the scratched paint on the door. I wait for the comment, the judgment, but instead, his eyes find mine again, and none of the warmth there has disappeared or changed.
“I’ve been looking forward to tonight.” He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with a careful touch. “You ready?”
I manage a nod, even though my heart is practically pounding out of my chest. “Yes,” I say, but in my head, a tiny, nagging voice whispers, No.
He grins, holding the door open for me as I slide into the passenger seat. The car is immaculate, like him. My pulse picks up even more, and I feel the urge to grip something, anything, as my nerves start to spill over, so I grip my bracelet. Koen’s voice returns to my head, reminding me to breathe, and I close my eyes for a moment, focusing on the sensation of the chain and the faint scent of leather.
Nicholas climbs into the driver’s seat, his eyes flicking over to me with a hint of concern. “You good?”
“Of course,” I lie, maybe not so smoothly.
The Porsche purrs as he pulls away from my apartment, weaving through the city lights. The Nova from before would have loved to be in this car. Now, I relax into the seat, pretending that the low hum of the engine doesn’t make me want to puke.
He seems perfectly at ease, one hand on the wheel, his other arm casually resting between us.
“You seem a little…” His eyes soften as he studies me with a quick glance. “Nervous?”
“Maybe a little.” I shrug, forcing my tone to sound casual. “You know… date nerves.”
“Good.” He raises an eyebrow, looking almost relieved, as if he’s been holding something back. “Because I’m nervous as hell.”
“ You’re nervous?” I blink. “You don’t exactly strike me as the type.”
His true self might be a little shy, but when it’s only the two of us, I’ve seen his confidence slip through. The last few times we’ve been alone, he seemed surer of himself than I expected.
“Well, I am.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, and it’s so endearing, so unexpectedly boyish. “Sometimes I wonder if I should be more… chill or something. But then I see you, and I realize…” He pauses, his gaze catching mine again. “I like the way I feel around you. I really do.”
My cheeks flush, and I can’t help the small smile that pulls at my lips.
Stop it, Nova.
“Well, I like it, too,” I admit. “Spending time with you, I mean.”
Not sitting in this damn car.
Even if it’s a very, very nice car.
“Then what are we nervous about?” He grins. “We’re here together, right? Maybe we can just… let it be that simple.”
Nothing about this, about us , is simple.
“Fine.” I shake my head with a smile.
“That means you can relax.”
“I am relaxed.” I’m so not.
His gaze lingers, thoughtful, and for a second, I think he’s going to press. But then he says, “All right. I hope you like burgers.”
“I’d love some fries.” I don’t think I can eat a whole damn burger with how my stomach is feeling right now.
“Fries it is. ”
We pull up to the drive-through of a little burger joint, the kind of place with checkered floors and a buzzing neon sign. He orders for us, and when he hands me the takeout bag, the warm scent of onion rings and crispy fries fills the car, and I relax somewhat. I can handle this.
Instead of turning back toward the city, he heads in the opposite direction, driving us farther out. “Let’s get out of here, away from the neon lights and the crowd.”
“Okay,” I say, feigning casual, even though my stomach flips.
Of course, why not spend even more time driving?
As we drive, I realize I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would. I’m not sure if it’s Nicholas’s presence, Koen’s hypnosis, or that something else settled in me last night. Maybe even something healed a little. Either way, I’ll take it.
The buildings slip away, giving way to open stretches of desert under the growing darkness. The road gets quieter, the city lights fading to a faint glow in the rearview mirror.
“Okay, where exactly are we going?” I ask, casting him a sidelong look. “Are you… a serial killer or something?”
He glances over at me, his expression faux-shocked. “No.”
I raise an eyebrow, giving him a doubtful look. “Isn’t that exactly what a serial killer would say?”
“Fine.” His lips press together as he fights back a smile. “What would someone who isn’t a serial killer say?”
I purse my lips, pretending to think deeply. “Probably… not that, either.”
He laughs, a warm, low sound, and I realize I’m smiling like an idiot.
“Just trust me,” he says, a glint of mischief in his eye. “I promise you’re not about to be the next true crime documentary. ”
When he finally stops the car, we’re out on a quiet stretch of desert, far enough that the city lights are a soft glow behind us. He gets out, comes around to open my door, and holds out a hand to help me out.
“Come on,” he invites, nodding up to the wide-open sky. “I come here sometimes when everything’s too much. It sounds dumb, but I enjoy seeing the stars out here, where they’re actually bright.”
“Are you into stars?” I reach into the bag, pulling out a fry and popping it in my mouth as I take in the view, leaning back, the hood of the car warm against my legs.
Nicholas does the same as I offer him the bag. “No, I just like the feeling they give me… like everything’s bigger than all the stuff that weighs me down. We’re on a rock floating in space, you know? Somehow, it makes things… feel lighter.”
The sky is dotted with stars, more of them winking into view as the last bit of light fades. It’s beautiful out here, quiet and peaceful. The kind of place I could stay forever if I could keep that feeling of insignificance tucked away in my pocket.
We stand there, sharing fries and onion rings in a comfortable quiet, the crunch of each bite punctuating the sounds of the desert night around us. When the bag is empty, Nicholas takes it from my hands, giving me a small smile before walking around to toss it back into the car. He returns, his movements unhurried, and leans against the front of the Porsche next to me, his shoulder close enough to brush mine.
I’ve never been one for silence. Usually, it unnerves me—I feel like it’s waiting to lay bare every truth I’d rather ignore. With him, the silence doesn’t feel threatening. It’s almost peaceful. Just a quiet that feels close to comfort .
“Oh, look. There’s Orion’s Belt.” I point out the three stars in a row, watching his gaze follow mine.
His lips curve up. “Are you into stars?”
I hesitate, knowing I should answer with something generic, something safe. Keep it surface-level. But when I look at Nicholas’s open expression, the words that come out are real, unfiltered. “I always wanted to study astronomy. I wanted to work with stars somehow, find my place among them,” I say, my voice softer with vulnerability than I mean it to be. It catches me off guard, and I almost wish I could take it back.
Nicholas doesn’t look at me like I’m less for it. He simply smiles, and somehow, that smile loosens something tight in my chest.
Maybe it’s okay to let him see a little more. Just a little.
“So, why didn’t you?”
I shrug, hugging myself. “Life changed.”
We’re silent for another moment, and a shiver creeps up my spine as I look back up. A falling star streaks across the sky.
“Did you see that?” I exclaim, pointing it out while grabbing his biceps with my other hand, squeezing it as I turn to look at him. “Make a wish!”
I press my eyes shut and make one myself.
Wishing for a reality where this could be real, where we could be.
When I open my eyes to look at him, he’s already watching me, almost as if he’d rather look at me than the stars.
He chuckles, his gaze drifting to where my hand rests on his arm, his fingers inching over until they settle over mine, anchoring us there. He turns fully toward me, our hands lingering together as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear with his other hand, his fingertips brushing my cheek before he cradles my face. “Would you rather always wonder what if or regret if only ?”
I don’t know who moves first. One second, we’re looking at each other, and the next, our lips meet—soft and warm, tasting faintly of salt from the fries and sweet from whatever’s just him. He pulls me closer, his hand slipping from mine so his arm can circle my waist. I lean into him, but his kiss remains unhurried and deep like he’s savoring every second.
And butterflies go crazy in my chest.
Fuck.
The plan was to use him, not fall for him, Nova.
My hands find their way to his pecs, feeling the fast but steady thud of his heartbeat under my palms. The world fades away—no stars, no desert night, no plan, and no deception. It’s just us, the taste of him lingering on my lips, stealing every thought from my mind.
When he finally pulls back to rest his forehead against mine, he whispers, “Wishes do come true.”
A shiver runs through me, not only from the cold, and he notices.
“You’re cold,” he murmurs. “I could drive you home… or, if you want, we could go back to my place. Veronica’s out with her… friends for their weekly poker night. You know, if you… if you want to watch a movie or something. Just hang out.” His words tumble out, and as he searches my eyes, uncertainty is clear in them. “I mean, I get if you’re not comfortable, if it’s too soon…”
I look up at him, and a pang of something sharp twists in my chest. This is my chance. Everything I need to do, everything I came here to accomplish, is right within my reach faster than I thought possible .
Except instead of feeling triumphant, there’s this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Why?
Why would I want to go back with him for any other reason than what I’m supposed to be doing?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I press my thumb to his lips, silencing him. Then, I lean in, brushing my mouth softly against his. “Only if I get to pick the movie.”
He smiles against my lips. “Deal.”
Nicholas
The hotel lobby gleams with polished marble floors, and I guide Rosie past the reception desk, where a young man in a suit greets me with a professional but slightly nervous smile.
I never bother to learn their names.
All they want to do is kiss my ass in the hopes of a raise.
“Mr. Harrington, good evening.” He dips his head politely. His gaze flicks to Rosie briefly, curiosity in his eyes, but he’s too well-trained to let it linger.
“Evening,” I reply casually, though Rosie’s presence beside me makes it impossible to feel entirely composed. She’s quiet but alert, her eyes scanning the space, taking in every detail, every movement. But it’s not the awestruck gaze I’ve seen so many times before.
Hotel guests mill about, their laughter and chatter blending into the ambient hum of the space. A few staff members nod politely as we pass, their greetings directed at me, but their eyes inevitably drifting to Rosie.
It seems she has that effect on people.
We approach the elevator, which has a small card reader embedded into the side panel. “The penthouse is restricted access,” I explain.
I retrieve the slim black card from my pocket and swipe it across the reader. There’s a chime, and the elevator hums to life.
“Fancy,” Rosie mutters under her breath as we step in. Her gaze darts to the metal walls that reflect the two of us in distorted fragments. “Is this thing really only for you?”
“Us,” I correct with a small grin. “For now.”
The elevator ascends, the silence stretching between us as the numbers tick higher. When we reach the top, the doors slide open with a quiet whoosh, revealing the penthouse.
I place my hand lightly on Rosie’s lower back, guiding her forward. The air here is cooler, crisper, scented faintly with something clean and expensive.
Anticipation has been buzzing under my skin all night, winding up nerves I didn’t know I still had. Bringing her here doesn’t help either.
And kissing her?
Hell, I’ve never felt so nervous, but it was probably the best decision I’ve ever made.
There’s something about her that makes me want to leave an impression beyond all the glossy, empty parts of my life. I wanted tonight to feel casual, but our penthouse, with its perfectly arranged furniture and pristine surfaces, is about as casual as a museum exhibit.
As soon as I come to a stop, she takes a slow look around, her mouth slightly open. “Whoa, this is…”
Of course. It’ s a reaction I’ve seen plenty of times. The rare visitors, staff, my mother’s friends, and her constant parade of acquaintances all wear the same look of awe and envy, like this penthouse is the pinnacle of what money can buy. And sure, it’s a marvel. To me, it’s a beautifully polished cage.
I sigh, feeling the familiar tension creep in. “Yeah, I know. It’s—”
“Clinical,” she finishes, giving the place a skeptical once-over.
I laugh, a real laugh that catches me off guard. Her blunt honesty is a breath of fresh air. “You don’t like it?”
She glances around some more, then back at me, raising her brows. “Well, I’m a messy person, and stuff looking like this gives me the creeps. Like I can’t touch anything without leaving fingerprints on some shiny, perfect surface. Or some housemaid glaring at me for it.”
“That’s exactly how it feels to me.” I sigh dramatically. “We could go to the movie room if you want, but… honestly, I’d rather go to my room if you’re okay with that?”
“You aren’t clinically clean in there, too, are you?” She smirks, a playful glint in her eye.
“Well, I did tidy up, in case you wanted to come back here with me,” I admit as I usher her down the hallway. “But I promise, it’s not clinical.”
She throws a sideways look at me. “Oh, so you were sure I’d come back to yours?”
“Nope. Just hopeful.” I toss her a grin, though my mind is already jumping ahead to how much time I might actually get with her tonight. With any luck, we’ll get through two movies before my mother even thinks of coming home. She’s always out late on Tuesdays. Early morning hours, every time. Gives us all the space Rosie and I need.
Not that Veronica would actually care .
I just don’t want to make Rosie uncomfortable.
She walks in, glancing around. “This looks and smells way more like you.”
I cross my arms, half-amused and half-curious. “That’s a good thing?”
“A very good thing.” She moves toward the workout equipment, eyeing it with curiosity. “You work out at home too?”
“Sometimes,” I answer, feeling a bit on display but liking the attention.
She turns to me. “What else do you do?”
What else do I do?
That’s a loaded question. I search for a way to answer that without sounding lame.
“Well,” I start, shrugging. “When my mother doesn’t drag me to some business meeting or gathering, I work out or binge series and movies. And the parkour thing. I don’t do much besides hanging around this goddamn penthouse.” She looks at me, waiting, and I know she’s going to call me out on it, so I brace myself.
“Why don’t you get your own place, then? If you’re such a homebody, you could at least relax somewhere that feels comfortable, you know?”
I let out a sigh, thinking through my response. “It’s not like I have anyone around here, Rosie. I don’t have friends. There’s nobody I hang out with and no reason to go anywhere else. It doesn’t matter if I’m sitting around here alone or somewhere else. And honestly, as much as I can’t stand my mother most of the time, at least she talks to me.” There’s something in her eyes I can’t quite place, but it’s not pity. “God,” I mutter, embarrassed. “That was too much information. You must think I’m pathetic.”
She still doesn’t say anything as she walks over to me with that same calm look in her eyes, and before I know it, she’s pushing me down to sit on the edge of the bed. I barely have time to react before she’s climbing onto my lap. My heart is racing now, but I keep my eyes on her beautiful green ones, waiting for whatever she’s about to say.
“I have a lot of words in my head right now to describe you, Nico, but not one of them is pathetic. ”
It’s as if the world narrows down to only her, her weight pressed against me, the intoxicatingly sweet scent of her hair and skin. She doesn’t hesitate. Her hands slide up my shoulders, steadying herself as she leans in, her face so close I can see every fleck of gold in her eyes.
“Sweetness,” I murmur roughly as my hands go to her hips, and the nickname makes her lips curve into a faint smile.
Her pulse beats at her throat, her skin warm against my hands. I watch her, almost mesmerized. I want to kiss her again so badly it aches, but doubt stalls me. I don’t want her to think this is why I brought her here. I don’t want to fuck this up.
I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to…
Before I spiral any further, her lips meet mine in a whisper-soft kiss, tentative at first, as if she’s giving me a chance to pull away. When I don’t, her hands slide into my hair, and her fingers tighten, tugging me closer.
A whimper slips from my throat before I can stop it. Pulling her flush against me, I give in, feeling every inch of her, every curve molded perfectly to me. The kiss deepens, the world fading away until there’s nothing left but the heat between us, the electric pull that has my heart racing.
God, she feels perfect—every move, every brush of her lips, like something I didn’t even know I needed. Her scent surrounds me, and it’s so fucking sweet. I can’t get enough. My fingers press against her back, feeling her through the fabric of her shirt. She doesn’t hold back, her mouth claiming mine with more urgency now, her hips shifting in a way that has me practically dizzy.
I love that she’s taking control.
Fuck.
I’m not going to survive her.
She barely pulls back, her breath mixing with mine as she hovers close, her eyes hooded, cheeks flushed. Then she leans in again, her lips brushing my jaw, tracing down to my neck and grazing my skin with her teeth. I tighten my hold on her, pushing my hips up and making her groan, breathing in that addictive scent of hers, letting it consume me.
“You smell… amazing,” I admit roughly with a mixture of awe and need. “And you feel a mazing.” She smiles against my neck, her laugh breathy.
I shift, leaning back against the headboard and pulling her with me before letting her settle more fully on top of me. My hands find her waist again, guiding her closer. She sits up, her hands trailing over my chest, her eyes dark with something I recognize all too well.
God, she’s so beautiful, so perfect, and I could stay here forever. The world outside, all the chaos and pressure, fades into the background. Right now, it’s only her. Her mouth is on mine, her body against mine, while her scent fills my senses until I can’t think straight.
My thumbs brush the exposed skin above her waistband, and her breath catches. I swear that little sound is going to haunt me. She pulls back enough to look at me, her lips swollen, her hair a little messy, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
She shifts again, grinding herself on me, and I have to bite back another whimper. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I want her right now. Every brush of her hands over my chest, every little movement, is torture—the sweetest kind.
“This…” I reach up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “ You… the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She smiles a little shyly, which only makes her more perfect, but instead of answering, she kisses me again, as if she’s claiming me, piece by piece.
And I let her.
She breaks the kiss to catch her breath, her forehead resting against mine while we’re both panting. Her fingers trace along my jawline, and she gifts me a smile that makes my heart stutter.
“You really are sweet—”
She presses her thumb against my lips, cutting off my words. I fall silent, unable to do anything but watch as she slides her hand down, fingers brushing against the hem of my shirt, slipping under to graze my skin. Her touch is featherlight, tracing over the lines of my abs, and the simple act makes me shudder and my cock twitch, the sensation enough to send a current through my entire body.
Then her mouth is on mine again, deeper, more insistent. It’s a kiss that pulls me under completely, hot and breathless. The heat between us is electric and makes my thoughts scatter while her fingers continue their slow exploration along my torso, driving me out of my mind. But there’s a part of me that knows I need to stop her.
Before I can’t.
“Sweetness.” I catch her wrist, breaking the kiss, both of us panting. “I want to take things slow with you. This…” I search for the words, wanting her to know how serious this is for me, “… you’re way too important to me to rush this. I don’t want to fuck it up.”
She blinks, and I see her swallow, her eyes flicking away for a split second as if she hadn’t expected that. And, shit, maybe I’ve already messed it up. Maybe she thinks I don’t want her.
She doesn’t know how badly I do.
Hell, I’m hard enough right now to prove it.
I bring her hand up to my mouth, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “I just want to hold you close and watch a movie with you. If I have any say in it, then we’ll have all the time in the world to go further.”
She bites her lip, and I see the tiniest nod. Still, there’s something in her expression, a vulnerability, as though she’s not quite sure of herself.
I pull her closer, brushing my lips against her forehead. “I want you so fucking badly,” I murmur, looking into her eyes, hoping she can feel how much I mean it. “I’ll kiss every beautiful inch of you, but not tonight. Tonight, I only want this.”
She exhales a relieved breath, her shoulders relaxing as she shifts off my lap. I lie back, pulling her down to rest against me, feeling her melt into my side, her head finding its place on my chest. Reaching over, I grab the remote from the nightstand and turn it toward her. “Pick something for us, okay?” I tell her, opening up the streaming service.
She glances up at me with a small, appreciative smile, and it’s enough to make the ache in my chest grow softer.
She scrolls through the endless rows of movies and pauses over a few romantic comedies, flicking past them until she stops on a familiar title. “How about this?”
It’s an action movie, a good one too. “You know this one?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t. It’s a fucking classic.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Fair point. You’ve got good taste.”
“Duh,” she teases, settling back against my chest as the movie starts .
I should be focused on the screen, but my attention keeps drifting to her, the way her head fits perfectly against my shoulder and her hair brushes my arm with every slight movement. Explosions light up the room as the movie plays on, but all I can think about is the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her body pressed against mine.
She glances up at me occasionally, her eyes catching the light from the screen, and each time, it sends a subtle ache through my chest. I wonder if she can feel how tightly I’m holding onto this moment, how much I just want her to stay like this forever.
At some point during the movie, I feel her hand start to drift up, her fingers brushing lightly along my hairline, giving me a soothing massage. The way her fingertips press and trace gentle circles sends a wave of comfort through me.
“Careful,” I murmur, fighting to keep my eyes open. “Keep that up, and I’ll fall asleep right here.”
She chuckles, but her touch turns softer. “I’ll wake you up when the good part’s on.”
I tilt my head to catch her gaze. “You’re the good part.” The words slip out unbidden, but her eyes soften making it worth it.
“Nah.” She laughs, giving me a light nudge. “Sleeping’s always the best part.”
“Sleeping’s the best because you’re not actually dead, but you’re not awake either,” I say, my words slurring slightly as I relax into her touch. “It’s a win-win situation.”
“Like being dead without the commitment. It’s… an open relationship with death.”
I chuckle. “Death with benefits.”
Her laughter warms me from the inside out, and I let myself sink into her touch, each gentle stroke easing me toward sleep. I’ve never let anyone get this close. It’s surreal, like waking up in the middle of a dream I never knew I wanted, but it’s real, and she’s here.
Maybe, for once, there’s something to look forward to in all this mess.
Her.
Her fingers keep moving, steady, grounding, until finally, I give in completely, letting sleep take me in her arms.