Chapter 33 #2
The second I step outside, the thick heat hits me, along with the heavy stench of garbage from the dumpsters lining the wall.
Sweat prickles along my hairline immediately, and I’m grateful I pinned my hair up.
I move as fast as I can, and my sandals smack against the pavement as I half run toward the car.
The pearl buttons on my dress catch the sunlight, and I pray none of the photographers have figured out there’s a back exit.
Nolan ushers me inside, and the door shuts behind me with a solid thunk before I can even catch my breath.
“Good evening, Miss Cross. Where are we headed?” he asks as he slides into the driver’s seat.
“The Park,” I tell him.
“I figured.”
He pulls out of the alley, and I sink into the leather, my heart still racing. The cool air from the AC feels like salvation against my damp skin.
“Saw the news. Everyone’s talking about your prince. Even your parents are talking about it,” he says.
Nolan glances at me in the rearview mirror, and I don’t bother denying anything. Nolan has been employed by my family since I was a teenager, and we’ve always given each other shit.
“Okay, isn’t there some sort of driver confidentiality thing you’re supposed to follow?” I ask.
“No.” He scoffs. “When we arrive at The Park, do you want to be dropped off in the front?”
“Yeah, that would be great,” I say.
“Walking straight into the lion’s den?” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, which is fair. “Do you want me to wait for you?”
I sigh. “Maybe the first hour, just in case he’s not there.”
“Will do,” he says.
The rest of the ride, I stay quiet, trying to think of what I’ll say when I see Louis. I’m full of excitement. He’s here.
As soon as the car pulls up, Nolan gets out. “Good luck, Addison.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, stepping out of the car.
I expect a handful of paparazzi, but there are twenty on the sidewalk.
The Park rises into the skyline like a monument sparkling in the summer night.
My name is screamed, and all I do is smile as flashes blind me.
Voices overlap each other, and I can’t hear a word any of them are saying, other than my name and Louis.
I wave as I walk toward the building, ignoring each question.
The magnitude of what Louis was able to accomplish hits me. He got on a plane and escaped Europe like it was nothing. Guess it pays to have people like Dyson Banks in your life.
Leaving means he was willing to risk it all for me.
Security recognizes me before I give my name.
One of them escorts me to a private elevator, and nobody asks for ID or makes me sign in.
Being the sister of Patterson Cross has its perks.
He presses my brother’s floor, but when the door closes, I click a different one, knowing Louis is friends with Dyson Banks.
The elevator opens directly into a penthouse foyer with floors so polished that they reflect the soft light overhead. There is a waiting room with furniture opening up to a wall of windows that offers a perfect view of Central Park. This is just the waiting area for Dyson’s place.
The hallway stretches ahead of me, and I move to the front door that looks like it’s large enough for a giant to walk through. I suck in a deep breath as my pulse pounds in my ears. On the other side of this door is the love of my entire life.
I push the button, and a chime rings overhead. After a second, I hear a deep voice, not one I recognize, and the door swings open.
“Um, hi?”
“Wow. Now, this is a big fucking surprise,” Dyson says. “Speak of the devil.”
He steps aside, and behind him is Louis. Davis, the guard who’s been shadowing him around the palace, stands at his shoulder.
Louis’s smile widens, and then he rushes toward me.
His arms wrap around me and lift me off the ground before I can say a word.
My sandals dangle in the air, and I grab a fistful of his shirt as he buries his face in my neck.
A sob escapes me, and I don’t care because he’s here and he’s holding me so tight that I can barely breathe.
“I told you I’d come for you,” he says against my skin, peppering kisses.
The promise brings me right back to that moment where I was screaming until my throat was raw. The truth is, knowing how his mother is, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see him again.
“I didn’t know if you would be able to.” The words come out broken.
“I will always come for you.” He sets me down, but doesn’t let go, his hands sliding up to cup my face.
His thumbs brush away the tears streaming down my cheeks, and his eyes are red-rimmed and glassy.
“Always. Do you understand? There is nothing anyone can do. I will cross every ocean they put between us. I will—”
I kiss him because I can’t wait another second.
His mouth meets mine, and the sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a sob.
His hands slide into my hair, and mine grip the front of his shirt, and we kiss like we’re trying to crawl inside each other.
He tastes of coffee and exhaustion, and when I press closer, I can feel his heart pounding against my chest.
We break apart just long enough to breathe, and then we’re kissing again, slower this time, deeper. His forehead presses against mine, and we stay there, sharing air, neither of us willing to pull away.
“I thought I’d lost you,” I whisper.
“Never.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, my cheek, the tears still wet on my skin.
I press my face into his shirt and breathe in cedar and sandalwood. It’s the scent I’ve been missing, along with his touch.
“I can finally breathe,” I say against his shirt.
His arms tighten around me. “Me too.”
We stand there in Dyson’s doorway, holding on to each other while the rest of the world waits. I don’t know how long it is before someone clears their throat behind us.
“This is incredibly touching,” Dyson says.
Louis pulls back but keeps his arm around my waist as he guides me into the penthouse.
The door closes behind us, and I catch a Basquiat over the fireplace, appreciating his taste.
Davis is standing near the windows with his hands clasped behind his back, like he’s still on duty.
When he sees me, his posture relaxes, and he gives me a small nod.
“Miss Cross.”
“Davis.” I smile at him through the tears still drying on my cheeks. “Thank you for helping.”
His face goes red. “It was my honor.”
Louis reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black credit card, pressing it into Davis’s hand. “You’re off duty. Indefinitely. Go see a Broadway show, eat somewhere expensive, sleep until noon.”
Davis stares at Louis. “Your Highness, I couldn’t possibly—”
“You can, and you will.” Louis claps him on the shoulder. “That’s an order. You helped me get back to her. The least I can do is make sure you enjoy the city.”
“You’re more than welcome to stay here,” Dyson offers. “There’s plenty of room.”
Davis looks at me, then at Louis, then down at the card. A slow grin spreads across his face. “I’ve always wanted to see Hamilton.”
“See it twice. See it all.” Louis squeezes his shoulder. “No limit.”
Dyson crosses his arms and leans against the counter, picking up a coffee mug. He looks relaxed but somehow still exhausted. “So, what’s the plan? Because Patterson will stop by here at some point and ask. I want an answer for him.”
“Tell him Louis is with me at my loft.” I smile at him. “And if he comes by today, I won’t answer the door.”
Louis smirks. “Bossy as fuck. I love this.”
“Fair warning: he’s ready to beat your ass.”
“He can try,” Louis says.
Dyson sets his mug in the sink. “Do you need a car?”
“My driver is still downstairs.” I interlock my fingers with Louis, and he kisses my knuckles.
Louis laughs, and the sound loosens something in my chest that’s been wound tight for days. He’s here. He’s laughing. We’re together.
“Well, this was a great talk. See ya, boys.” Louis salutes them, picks up his duffel, and wraps his arm around me as we leave.
We don’t make it to the elevator before he’s pressing me against the wall, kissing me. For the first time, I feel freedom, and it makes me laugh.
“What is it?” he whispers.
I wrap my arms around his waist. “We don’t have to rush.”
“Not anymore.” He presses against me, our tongues sliding together.
The door swings open, and Dyson clears his throat. “You’re giving my security guards a show.”
He points to the cameras in the corners of the room.
I tuck my lips into my mouth, and Louis laughs as we move to the elevator.
“See ya,” he singsongs.
We stand on opposite sides of the elevator, staring at each other.
“If you come over here, we’re not leaving this elevator,” he says.
“Is that a threat?” I ask with a brow lifted, admiring how gorgeous he is.
“It’s a fucking promise. And you know I keep those.”
The numbers tick down, and neither of us moves. His eyes are hungry and fixed on me like I’m the only thing that will satisfy him. I grip the railing behind me to keep myself in place.
“Sixty-two more floors,” I whisper.
“I’m aware.”
“That’s a long time.”
“Forever.”
The elevator slows and stops on the fifty-fourth floor. The doors open, and a woman in a business suit steps in, her eyes on her phone. She glances up, does a double take when she sees Louis, and then very deliberately looks back down at her screen.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hello.”
We ride in silence for three floors before she gets off, and the second the doors close, Louis crosses the space between us. His hands brace on the wall on either side of my head, and he leans in close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Fifty-one more floors,” he whispers against my ear.
“You’re such a tease.”
“Not enough time for me to do what I want.” His mouth is on my neck, nibbling on my ear. When his hand slides up my skirt and between my legs, I nearly lose my balance. “Hmm.”
Before the elevator dings, Louis pulls back with a grin. The doors open to the lobby, and he offers me his hand like we weren’t just seconds away from doing something scandalous.
The lobby is marble, classical music, and hushed voices. People don’t stare at The Park. I spot Nolan through the glass doors, leaning against the car with his arms crossed. When he sees us, he straightens and opens the back door.
“Ready?” Louis asks.
“Yes,” I tell him as he interlocks his fingers with mine.
We walk out onto the sidewalk, and there’s a crowd of paps waiting to take our photo. The two of us are all smiles. He does the friendly Prince Charming wave, and I laugh as he leads me forward.
Nolan nods. “Good to see you again, Miss Cross. Your Highness.”
The flashes are blinding.
“You can call me Louis.”
“I absolutely will not. Some of us have manners around here.”
We slide into the back seat, and then Nolan closes the door behind us.
He gets in the driver’s seat and catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “Back to the loft?”
“Please.”
He pulls away from the curb and into traffic while Louis laces his fingers through mine.
The paparazzi gather on the sidewalk, trying to press their cameras against the window. We take off, and I watch them shrink in the side mirror until they disappear.
“Is that normal?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Louis says. “Deal-breaker?”
I smirk. “I don’t think one exists.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“For better or worse, right?”
He wraps his arm around me, kissing my forehead as he leans against the seat, watching the buildings pass by. “Man, I love New York,” he whispers.
I look up at him, studying his jaw while listening to his heartbeat. The smile might be permanent. We ride in comfortable silence through Midtown, watching the city slide past us. His thumb brushes against my arm. I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment.
He came for me, and we’re together.
For the first time since I left Montclaire, the tight knot in my stomach finally disappears.