Chapter Nine #3
Teller nodded, already cleaning his instruments. "Always happy to help an old friend, Julian. Though I admit, this isn't what I expected when Jake said you needed urgent medical assistance."
Connor helped me back into my jacket, his movements gentle despite the efficiency. I noticed how he kept his bandaged arm slightly away from the fabric, the only indication that the procedure had affected him at all.
"Let's go home," I suggested, suddenly wanting nothing more than the privacy of the penthouse, away from clinical lights and watchful eyes.
Connor nodded, and the relief in his expression told me he felt the same. As we followed Jake out of the lab and back toward the elevator, I found myself watching Connor's profile, struck again by how quickly this stranger had become someone I was willing to risk everything to protect.
The elevator ride down was quieter than our ascent had been, both of us processing what had just happened. Connor stood close to my wheelchair, our bandaged arms occasionally brushing against each other—a silent reminder of the lengths we were now willing to go for each other's safety.
The lobby of D'Amato Technologies was bright with afternoon sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, a stark contrast to the artificially lit lab we'd just left.
Connor squinted slightly as we emerged from the elevator, his hand resting lightly on the back of my wheelchair.
"Should we call for a car?" he asked, scanning the lobby with the newly developed wariness that came from knowing he was being hunted.
Before I could answer, I spotted Michael striding across the marble floor toward us, his expression even more grim than usual. His eyes flicked briefly to the bandage just visible at my wrist, but he asked no questions—one of the many reasons I valued him.
"We have a situation," he said without preamble, his voice low enough that only Connor and I could hear. "Harris has been making calls to your competitors."
My blood ran cold. Harris was smarter than I'd given him credit for. "What kind of calls?"
Michael's eyes flicked to Connor, then back to me. "The kind that end with hostile takeovers. He's trying to destroy Montgomery Industries to get to you."
The implications slammed into me with physical force. This wasn't just about Connor anymore. Harris was attacking my company—the legacy I'd built, the thousands of employees who depended on me, the work that had been my entire identity since before the accident.
"How bad?" I kept my voice steady, years of business crises having trained me to remain calm even as my mind raced through scenarios and counter-strategies.
"Crenshaw at Apex Industries took the call this morning. Davidson at Global Tech this afternoon." Michael's expression darkened further. "They're listening, Julian. Harris is offering insider information, weaknesses in our infrastructure that only someone with intimate knowledge would have."
Connor's hand found my shoulder, squeezing slightly. I reached up to cover it with my own, drawing strength from the contact as I processed what this meant.
"He's trying to get to me through you," Connor whispered, the realization dawning in his eyes. "Because he knows you'll protect me."
"Yes," I agreed, not bothering to soften the truth. "And he's about to discover exactly how far I'll go to protect what's mine."
Inside the waiting car, Connor's hand found mine again, his grip tighter than before. The privacy partition was raised, sealing us in a bubble of leather and silence, the soft hum of the engine providing the only background to our thoughts.
I watched his face in profile as he stared out the rain-speckled window, the city lights reflecting in his eyes, making them seem deeper, more haunted than they had been this morning.
"This is because of me," Connor whispered, the words barely audible over the soft purr of the engine. His fingers tightened around mine, the butterfly bandage on his arm a stark reminder of how much had changed in just a few hours.
I turned to him, releasing his hand to cup his face gently, guiding his eyes to meet mine. "No. This is because Harris is a predator who can't stand losing." I kept my voice firm, brooking no argument. "He would have done this regardless. Men like him don't accept defeat."
Connor's expression remained unconvinced, the weight of guilt heavy in his eyes. "He's going after your company because of me, because you protected me."
"He's going after my company because it's what matters to me," I corrected. "Just like you matter to me. It's what men like Harris do—they identify what you value and try to take it, to control you through it."
The admission—that Connor mattered to me, that he had somehow become as important as the company I'd spent my life building—surprised us both. Connor's eyes widened slightly, searching my face for signs that I was merely saying what he needed to hear.
I let him look, let him see the truth I was still coming to terms with myself. In the space of days, this stranger had somehow carved out a place in my life that I hadn't realized was empty until he filled it.
The car moved smoothly through evening traffic, the interior quiet except for the occasional sound of tires on wet pavement. Rain had begun to fall more heavily, streaking the windows and transforming the city lights into blurred watercolors.
My mind raced through the implications of Harris's new attack vector. Montgomery Industries employed thousands of people, all of whom would be affected if Harris succeeded in destabilizing the company.
The board would be in panic mode once news of potential hostile takeover attempts reached them. Shareholders would demand action, protection of their investments.
And yet, sitting beside Connor in the back of this car, those concerns felt strangely distant compared to the more immediate threat to the man whose life had become unexpectedly entwined with mine.
"We'll handle the business threat," I said, the confident tone one I'd used in countless boardroom crises. "Michael is already implementing countermeasures. Harris may have money, but I have decades of business relationships that won't be easily severed by his machinations."
Connor nodded, but his eyes drifted to the butterfly bandage on his arm.
He touched it gently, his expression haunted.
"What happens when the trackers aren't enough?
" he asked, voicing the fear that had been lurking beneath the surface of our conversation.
"Harris found me once. He nearly found me again today.
What happens when technology and security details aren't enough to stop him? "
The question hung between us, honest and frightening in its implications. I could have offered platitudes, reassurances about top-notch security and the extensive resources at my disposal. But Connor deserved better than comforting lies.
"Then we fight," I said simply, pulling him closer until our foreheads touched, my voice dropping to a whisper meant only for him. "Together."
His breath hitched slightly at the contact, his hand coming up to rest on my shoulder. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple," I insisted. "Not easy, but simple. Harris wants to take what's mine. I won't let him."
Connor's lips curved into the ghost of a smile. "There's that possessive streak again. 'What's mine.'"
"Does it bother you?" I asked, genuinely curious. After what his family had done, after being treated like property, I wouldn't have blamed him for rejecting any hint of possession, even the protective kind.
"It should," he admitted, his fingers tracing a pattern on my shoulder. "But it doesn't. Not from you."
The admission warmed something in my chest, easing a tension I hadn't realized I'd been carrying. My arms tightened around him, drawing him closer in the privacy of the car's interior.
"We've known each other less than a week," Connor murmured against my neck, a note of wonder in his voice. "How is this even possible?"
I had no logical answer for him. By all rational measures, our connection defied explanation—hastily married strangers who had become each other's fiercest protectors in a matter of days.
It wasn't just the physical chemistry, though that remained as potent as it had been that first night in the hotel.
It was something deeper, something that had made me install a tracking device in my body to match his, something that made me ready to fight one of the city's most dangerous men to keep him safe.
"I don't know," I admitted, the honesty easier in the cocoon of the car, with rain drumming on the roof and Connor's warmth against me. "But I'm not questioning it anymore."
Connor shifted slightly, his eyes finding mine in the dim light. "Promise me something," he said, his voice taking on an edge I hadn't heard before. "Promise me you won't sacrifice yourself to protect me. Promise me we really do this together, not with you throwing yourself between me and Harris."
The request caught me off guard. In my mind, protection had always been unidirectional—me shielding Connor from harm. The idea that he was equally concerned about my safety hadn't fully registered until this moment.
"I promise to try," I offered, unwilling to make a promise I might not be able to keep if it came down to his safety or mine.
Connor seemed to understand the qualification, his eyes softening. "I guess that's all I can ask from the great Julian Montgomery, CEO and professional control freak."
I laughed softly, the sound strange in the serious atmosphere. "I prefer 'strategic protector.'"
"Of course you do." Connor smiled, a real smile this time, though it didn't completely erase the worry in his eyes. "So what's the plan? Besides these fancy new accessories?" He tapped his bandaged arm lightly.
"We go home," I said, the word 'home' feeling different with Connor beside me. "We increase security. We prepare for Harris's next move, both against you and against the company. And we don't let him separate us, which is undoubtedly his goal."
Connor nodded, settling more comfortably against me as the car continued its journey through the rain-slicked streets. "Home sounds good," he murmured.
Through the tinted windows, the city passed by in a blur of lights and shadows, mirroring the uncertain future ahead of us. Harris was out there, plotting, leveraging his considerable resources against us.
The trackers in our arms were warm beneath our skin, a technological tether connecting us to each other and to the safety net Jake had created.
Would it be enough? Against a man with Harris's wealth, connections, and utter lack of moral constraints, would any precaution ever be truly sufficient?
I pushed the question away, focusing instead on the weight of Connor against my side, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the trust he'd placed in me despite having every reason to trust no one.
Whatever came next, we would face it together—not just as a hasty legal arrangement, but as a united front against the storm gathering around us.
As the car turned onto the private road leading to my building, I made a silent vow to myself. Harris might target my company, my reputation, even my life, but he would not—could not—take Connor. Not while I had breath in my body and resources at my command.
Some wars are fought in boardrooms, others in dark alleys and hotel rooms. I was prepared to fight this one on every front necessary.
For Connor, for us and for the unexpected connection that had become worth protecting at any cost.