21. MIchael
MIchael
I don't say a word.
I don't have to.
Every man in my crew knows that silence is the loudest thing in the room when I'm this keyed up. They part like the Red Sea as I walk toward her, sitting by the fountain with two coffees and a smile that could start a war.
Brett steps up beside me. My second. My brother in everything but blood. Where I'm dark, he's light—tall, muscled, a Nordic storm in a thousand-dollar suit. His arms are folded, eyes on Kate with a mixture of respect and suspicion. He doesn’t trust easily.
She smiles at him. “Would you like to join us for coffee?”
He huffs, a rough chuckle under his breath. “Cute,” he mutters. “But you can’t talk your way outta this one, honey.”
I freeze. A muscle tics in my jaw.
He’s my best friend. But no one calls her honey.
Kate notices. She leans back and takes a slow sip of her coffee, like she enjoys the heat that just cracked under my skin.
I say nothing. Just gesture for her to follow.
She does.
She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t fight. Just stands, heels clicking like defiance as she falls into step behind me.
I don’t turn to check. I don’t need to. My men flank behind her like shadows. She’s not going anywhere.
We reach the back corridor where the VIP elevator waits. No buttons. No keypad. Just a black panel.
I scan my fob.
A soft chime. The doors glide open.
Only the two of us step inside.
She turns to face me.
And I finally speak.
“You wanted my attention, baby?”
Her breath hitches.
“You’ve got it.”
The private elevator opens to a space that used to be sleek, pristine power.
Now?
It’s a damn construction zone.
Krystal’s tantrum turned my penthouse into a demolition site. Glass shattered. Mirrors broken. Furniture torn apart like a tornado in couture heels had a meltdown—and she did. But I don’t give a fuck. Let her disappear with her brother. They’ll resurface eventually, fangs bared and hands out.
They always do.
But I’m not worried about them.
I’m watching the only woman who’s ever really mattered to me step into my chaos like she belongs in it. She doesn’t flinch at the mess. She walks in like she’s been here a hundred times, setting our coffee down on a marble ledge the workers haven’t touched yet.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” I say, nodding toward the island where I left three luxury design books open—modern, moody, timeless tones. “So I left some options.”
She glances at them, brows rising. “You want me to redo your home?”
My shoulders lift in a half-shrug, but my eyes stay locked on her as she drifts toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her heels click softly against the tile until she stops, hands folding in front of her.
The harbor sparkles below, the early sun catching the water, painting her in light.
The sight of her—barefoot now, hair loose and catching the morning rays like fire—makes my fists curl in my pockets. My suit feels too tight. My skin too hot.
“I’m not playing games,” I say quietly. “I never was.”
She doesn’t turn around.
“It was always you, doll.”
Still nothing.
My voice drops, rough. “I know it’s fast. All of it. But I’m not a man who does slow.”
She speaks then. Soft. Careful. “It is fast. I just thought… maybe one night.”
I step forward, just enough that I’m close enough to feel the charge between us.
“Baby,” I growl, “one night turns into one lifetime. That’s how I see this going.”
She turns finally, those stormy eyes meeting mine — eyes that could make kings fall or wars start.
And all I want is for her to say the one thing I need to hear:
That she wants this too.
She stands at the glass, looking out over the harbor. Boats drift lazily between docks like they have nowhere to be. The sunlight glints off the water in soft golds and silvers, casting her in glow.
Her palm lifts, pressing against the glass.
I move in, silent. Not touching her… not yet.
Then I cover her hand with mine.
“I want you,” she says softly. “You know that.”
My chest tightens. I do know. But hearing it—hell, it undoes me.
“I’m scared,” she adds.
I could lie. Pretend I’ve got this all figured out. Pretend the world doesn’t spin differently now that she’s in it. But I’m too far in for games.
“Baby,” I murmur, leaning close to her ear, “so am I.”
Her head turns, eyes wide. That confession stuns her — like I gave her a piece of me no one else ever got.
Because I did.
And in the breath between her surprise and my next heartbeat, I close the distance.
I kiss her.
Not the hungry, punishing kiss I gave her on the yacht. This one is deeper. Wilder. More reckless. Like both of us are falling forward and the only thing keeping us from crashing is this moment.
Her fingers twist into my jacket.
Mine anchor her to me.
The harbor disappears. The penthouse vanishes. All I feel is her breath, her lips, her surrender, and the terrifying realization that this woman has the power to wreck me.
Or save me.
We’re standing on a ledge now, kissing like the ocean below will either break us on the rocks…
Or carry us out to sea, tide-locked and tangled, unable to find our way back to shore.
She’s quiet beside me as we both stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, the harbor glinting below, the air between us heavy with something that’s not quite tension… not quite calm either.
“What’s at the end of this building, southeast corner?” she asks suddenly.
I tilt my head. “You mean the spa?”
“On this floor?”
I shake my head. “No. That’s my security room.”
She turns toward me, eyes glittering. “Can I see it?”
I narrow my eyes, slightly thrown. She’s not the type to show curiosity for the hell of it. But something about the way she asks—soft, almost distracted—makes me nod. “Sure.”
I lead her down the hall, past the unfinished marble walls, into a sound-dampened corridor most people don’t even know exists. The door is biometric-locked. I scan my fob, enter a code, and the heavy door hisses open.
Inside, the room hums low with the sound of power and surveillance.
My men glance up from their screens—quiet, calculating. They know better than to stare. They return to their monitors, scanning every inch of the casino, my businesses, the harbor.
But Kate?
She doesn’t look at them at all.
She walks straight to the south-facing window.
And stares.
“Do you see it?” she asks quietly.
I move behind her, scanning the view—buildings, piers, townhouses scattered along the shoreline.
Then I see it.
Her condo.
From this angle, her place is a glowing dot across the water, tucked against the curve of the bay, perched above the docks. The same dock where I watched her walk that golden retriever of hers a hundred times. The same strip of pier I used to stare at absently during long security briefings.
She turns to me slowly, lips quirking with quiet challenge. “You had me in your sights this whole time… and you didn’t even know it.”
I stare.
Hard.
The corner of her mouth lifts.
Damn this woman.
“Change of plans,” I say, stepping back, adrenaline thrumming through me with the force of a new obsession. “I’m making this my new penthouse.”
She blinks. “You’re moving the security center?”
“To the old one. I want this space. This view. I want to see you from here.” My voice drops. “All of you. Every day.”
Her throat bobs. She doesn’t smile this time. Doesn’t tease.
Because she knows I mean every word.
She blinks. She knows I’m serious.
And then?—
"I need to go," she says suddenly.
I frown. “And exactly what is that? Where do you need to go?”
"Work. Charity events. Fundraisers. On the books today? The summer concert series got canceled. We lost the venue due to ordinance violations. Busy stuff."
I watch her carefully. Half of me believes her. The other half knows she’s still hiding something.
“You work from home?" I ask. “Nonprofit? Charity work and fundraisers for the town?”
“Yes and no,” she says, standing straighter. "I have an office. And no—you can’t track it or put up cameras. If you want this—want me—please, you have to respect my boundaries. My independence."
I growl. "I need you safe."
She softens. "Sure. But I need me, too."
I walk her to the valet.
The old Jeep pulls up.
I bristle. "I’m tagging that."
She blushes as the valet hands her the keys, clearly shocked it’s hers.
"Tagging as in GPS, or?—"
"Tagging as in mine," I growl.
She leans up, kisses me quick. "I’ll call you."
I stare hard. "You better."
Then I nod to Vito, a silent order to tail her. Find her office. Know everything.
She thinks she can stay one step ahead.
But baby, I own the damn board.
And I always play to win.