Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ariana
Imogene hugged me at the door, her arms warm as they wrapped around me. Unlike earlier this evening when I’d stiffened at her unexpected affection, now I melted into her embrace, letting myself accept the kindness. The warmth. The unspoken understanding.
“Henry’s a really good man,” she whispered in a barely audible voice as she leaned in. “One I’d trust with my life. And my baby’s life.” She pulled back, allowing me to see the truth in her words.
I may have just met her, but there was no denying she sensed I needed to hear them. Needed some sort of reassurance I was on the right path. That I didn’t need to doubt my growing affection for this man who’d entered my life in such an unexpected way.
“Thank you,” I whispered back.
“Of course.”
She gave me one last squeeze before releasing me. Gideon swooped in next, pressing a kiss to my cheek before wrapping me in a brief, but surprisingly gentle bear hug.
“Visit again anytime,” he said with a grin. “If for no other reason than to drag this guy out from the Underworld.”
“The Underworld?” I arched a brow, looking between Henry and Gideon.
“It’s what he calls my various offices,” Henry explained.
“Dark. Windowless. It suits.” Gideon shrugged.
“So you are like Hades then.”
“Maybe a little.” He winked, then gave Gideon a quick hug goodbye before steering me down the path toward the SUV with a steady palm on the small of my back.
The night air was crisp, smelling faintly of wood smoke from nearby chimneys. Henry opened the passenger door and helped me inside, his hand firm around mine. The moment he closed my door, the world outside dimmed, cocooning me inside the quiet vehicle.
As he drove down the residential street lined with lamplit porches and sleeping houses, I found myself watching him. His profile looked softer tonight. Or maybe it wasn’t Henry who was different at all.
Maybe it was me.
My feelings.
“I hope you had fun tonight.” His voice was low, almost hesitant. “And that Gideon and Imogene didn’t scare you off too much.”
“It was exactly what I needed.”
His grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “Good.”
We fell into a comfortable silence, one that let my thoughts drift and settle. I replayed the evening in my mind like a favorite movie — the laughter, the teasing, the smells of home-cooked food. No forced smiles. No rules. Just warmth and familiarity.
That feeling stayed with me the entire drive back to Henry’s penthouse.
“Want to watch a movie?” he asked after helping me out of my coat and draping it over one of the barstools by the kitchen island.
“I’m pretty tired,” I said around a yawn. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Sure.” He nodded once. “I’ll walk you up.”
He gestured toward the winding staircase, letting me go first. As we climbed to the upper floor, I felt his presence behind me — solid, warm, protective.
“Thanks again for tonight,” I said, turning toward him when we reached my room. “I really enjoyed myself. Especially Gideon’s story about you crashing your brand-new car because you were checking out a girl.”
He groaned. “I’m going to kill him for that. Slowly.”
I laughed. “If you do, Imogene will kill you. Honestly, I think she scares me more than Gideon.”
“Me, too.” He leaned in and brushed a soft kiss on my temple. “Good night, Ariana.”
I closed my eyes, basking in the feel of his lips on me, even if it wasn’t as deep or sensual as I hoped.
“Good night, Henry.”
I met his gaze one last time, a thousand thoughts on the tip of my tongue. But I didn’t allow myself to utter them. Instead, I slipped into my room and closed the door, already feeling the chill of his absence as I listened to his retreating footsteps.
On a long sigh, I kicked off my boots and peeled off my sweater dress before pulling on a t-shirt and sleep shorts. But as I went through my nightly routine of washing my face and brushing my teeth, my thoughts kept returning to Henry.
My head warned me not to trust so easily. Not after everything Victor put me through.
But my heart whispered of everything Henry had done for me. Every sacrifice. Every risk. Every moment of gentleness he didn’t think I saw.
He’d proven again and again he wasn’t like Victor.
That questionable choices didn’t make him a bad man.
That he would stand between me and danger every time, even if it cost him everything.
That he was the only person I trusted to stand between me and danger.
I froze, my heart dropping to the pit of my stomach.
He was the only person I trusted.
The realization hit me like a brick wall, nearly stealing my breath.
I trusted Henry. I probably had for a while now.
I just hadn’t trusted myself.
I moved before I could think, flinging open the door. The hallway was quiet and dim, except for the sliver of warm light glowing beneath Henry’s bedroom door. My heart pounded, but not with fear. With anticipation.
With want.
With certainty.
I padded down the hall and stopped outside his door, lifting my hand to knock. The sound seemed deafening in the silence, echoing around me.
For a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Maybe he wasn’t here. Maybe he’d gone down to the office.
I was about to turn away, take this as a sign, when I heard footsteps, and the door swung open.
Henry stood there, jeans low on his hips, shirt unbuttoned, the lamplight catching on the muscles of his chest. The tattoos. The scars.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice rough with concern.
I opened my mouth, but every thought in my head scattered like leaves in the wind.
Words felt inadequate. Too small to contain everything I felt. Everything I wanted to convey.
So I didn’t use them.
Instead, I reached for the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head before sliding my shorts down my legs, kicking them to the side, allowing him to see all my scars.
Trusting him to see all my scars.
Henry’s gaze darkened instantly, his breath going ragged.
Then I sank to my knees, bowing my head.
It was a position Victor had forced on me. One he took pleasure in. One that made my body lock up, dread coiling through every muscle.
But with Henry, I didn’t tremble with fear.
Every inch of me hummed with raw, undeniable need.
“What are you doing, Ariana?” Henry asked, his question dripping with a hunger he could barely control.
“Trusting you.”
His bare feet came into view and he touched my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his. His eyes were fierce. Reverent.
“You don’t have to do this to prove you trust me.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I want to. Want to replace the bad memories with good ones. With memories of you. I need this. Need to reclaim what he stole.”
His jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring. Then he dropped to his knees, too, cupping my nape as he pressed his forehead against mine. Our breaths mingled, heat sparking between us.
“You’re a fucking warrior, Ariana.”
I expected him to kiss me. Take control. Set the tone.
But he didn’t.
He waited.
For me.
For my choice.
But it wasn’t a choice at all.
Not with Henry.
So I surged forward and crushed my lips to his.