Chapter 27
Gaby kicked off her shoes and was halfway to her bedroom, ready to collapse, when the knock came. She froze, turning only her head toward the door.
Instinctively, she knew who it was.
As eager as she was afraid, she walked forward. Her fingers fumbled with the lock, then she yanked the door open before he could knock again. Or leave.
Rhys stood there, hands in his pockets, looking like a man who had tried very hard to give her space and failed.
“We should talk. May I come in?”
She stepped aside.
He paused just inside the door, his gaze lingering on her. “You changed your hair.”
Gaby touched it self-consciously. The dark curls tumbled around her shoulders again instead of the sleek blonde blowout she’d worn for the mission. “Natalie and I had a spa day. I figured we both needed one.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth as he stepped closer, lifting a loose spiral and winding it once around his finger. “The blonde served its purpose,” he said softly. “But I prefer this. The dark suits you. And these…” He released the curl and watched it spring back. “These are dangerous.”
Warmth crept into her cheeks. “Dangerous?”
“For my concentration.”
The moment of easy playfulness felt strange but was welcome after weeks of tension. It didn’t last.
His expression sobered. “I wanted to tell you myself. álvarez cut a deal.”
That was the last thing she expected him to say. Her back straightened instantly. “What kind of deal?”
“He gave up the rest of the ring,” Rhys replied, watching her closely. “Twenty-three other buyers. Transporters. Security. Physicians on retainer. Everyone who kept it running. Enough to collapse all operations and shut it down permanently.”
Gaby’s anger warred with reluctant relief. “Please don’t tell me he walks away.”
“No. But he gets a lighter sentence at a minimum-security facility instead of a living hell in gen pop, where he’d never last a week.”
She let the unfairness of it sink in. Natalie wouldn’t be happy. “She wanted him to suffer,” she whispered, leaving much unspoken.
“I remember,” Rhys replied, moving closer. “And he deserves to. But dozens of girls will get the second chance Natalie got because of the deal.”
She exhaled slowly. “I hate that it works this way.”
“So do I.”
Something inside her settled—not peace but understanding. “Thank you for coming to tell me in person.”
They stood there for several beats. The space between them suddenly became very small.
Gaby broke the silence. “Is that why you came? To tell me about álvarez?”
“No. I came because I refuse to leave things the way they are. Unsaid and unfinished.”
She sat, curling her legs beneath her, partly from fatigue, partly because she wasn’t sure her knees would hold her. This was it.
“Then finish it,” she challenged softly.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck—a restless, unguarded gesture she’d never seen from him. “There was a woman I trusted. I thought she was the one.”
Gaby stayed silent, letting him go on.
“Her name was Lillian. We met in grad school. She was brilliant. Respected. We had so much in common. Not just academically. We synced in every category. I loved her.” A faint, bitter smile touched his lips. “I was ready to propose until I found the manuscript for her book.”
Her stomach clenched. This confirmed everything she and Emily suspected. Rhys was Ryan Landon.
“I read it and learned everything she said or did with me was a lie. She studied me as a dominant. My methods. My vulnerabilities. My kinks. I confronted her. Challenged her ethics. I asked her not to publish it. But she had a contract and an advance.” His jaw tightened.
“It was a case study disguised as a memoir. Salacious. Graphic. She changed the names, but not enough. Everyone knew it was me.”
Gaby’s breath caught. “Do you think she meant to expose you?”
“Yes,” he stated flatly. “She had to know it would destroy me professionally. Damage my credibility. Hand my enemies a roadmap of how I think. How I lead. How to break me. It was unnecessary. She did it anyway.”
“That’s unforgivable.”
“It cost her,” he said. “I was bitter and angry. I sued and reported her to the licensing board. Her career was over, but the damage to me was done. I left the UK and started over with the FBI, often undercover, which let me stay anonymous.”
“I thought you were a profiler?”
“Behavioral specialist,” he corrected. “I didn’t start out that way, but my skills were often called upon.
That she fooled me so easily, a supposed expert, really stung.
I put up walls and set clear limits so nothing like that would happen again.
Ten years later, you walked into my neat, orderly life. ”
Silence stretched between them for several heartbeats before he continued.
“I thought enough time had passed—that I was finally ready to risk my heart again. Then everything in me saw it happening again. Even when every part of me wanted you not to be her.”
By some miracle, her voice was steady when she said, “I am not Lillian.”
“No,” he agreed. “You’re not.”
She stepped closer. “But you treated me like I might be.”
“Yes.”
“You shut me out,” she said softly. “More than once. And then you moved on.”
“I never did. I couldn’t.”
If only that were true. “I saw you with another submissive, Rhys.”
His brow furrowed. “That’s not possible, Gaby.”
“It was at the club.”
“In a scene?”
“You want the details?”
“Yes, because it couldn’t have been me.”
“It was in the lounge. Not a scene per se, but aftercare.” Her voice shook with emotion as she revealed, “I saw tenderness I thought was meant for me offered to someone else.”
He stared at her for a single heartbeat, incredulous. “You mean Cissy? Jordan’s wife?” he added pointedly.
“Wife?” Gaby echoed.
“She wasn’t then. I was monitoring. A scene went wrong. I stepped in and provided aftercare until the dom could take over. That’s my responsibility.”
He didn’t tell her everything, but as far as she knew, he hadn’t outright lied to her. Her stomach twisted, and her gaze dropped to her hands. “I guess I should have asked you about it.”
“Probably. Because I was never with anyone else once I met you.”
He wasn’t helping here. “I feel stupid.”
“Not nearly as stupid as I do.”
Her chin came up. “What?”
“I didn’t see you for who you are,” Rhys said. “I was still too entrenched in old wounds and, I’ll admit, bitterness. But you’re everything she wasn’t. Kind. Determined. Looking outward rather than in. You’ve proved it over and over.”
“You hurt me,” Gaby admitted, her voice small.
“Yes.”
“The silence. The distance. The way you locked me out more than once.”
“I know.” He stepped closer, voice low and rough. “I thought I was protecting myself. But all I did was punish you for a wound you never gave me.”
“I need you to see me, not her.”
“I do.” His answer came without hesitation. “Clearly. Completely. Finally. I love you, Gaby. And I’m not backing away from that—or you—again.”
His words didn’t just land. They took root. A choice awaited them, one that could change everything.
“Where do we go from here?” she whispered.
“Forward,” he said. “If you’re willing.”
She searched his eyes, finding desire, hope—and beneath it, something hard-won—trust. “I am,” she breathed. “Because I love you too. I wouldn’t still be standing here if I didn’t.”
The barrier keeping them apart shattered. He laughed, a short, sudden burst of joy, and swept her off her feet, spinning her in one effortless motion. When he stopped, holding her at eye level, they were both breathless and grinning like fools.
“Any questions before I take you to bed?”
“Yes,” she said. “What are you waiting for?”
His laughter rumbled through both of them. Then he let her slide down his body. Molded to him, but with her feet on the floor, his hand slid to the back of her neck, and he kissed her. It wasn’t tentative or teasing; it was decisive. A promise and a claim.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, a desperate anchor as he moved, guiding her backward.
The floorboards creaked beneath them with each deliberate step until she was pressed against the wall.
Rhys braced his free hand against the wall, inches from her head.
The space between them crackled; his presence was like a tangible force as he caged her with his body.
“We’ve been together at the club,” he murmured, close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath. “You know what I am.”
She nodded. “You’re a dominant. I’m not afraid of that.”
“I don’t want you merely accepting it, Gaby. I want you to choose it. And come to crave it. You weren’t a sub, but I recognized the signs. I’ll teach you.”
“More training?” she cut in, a spark in her voice. “Yes, please.”
“You enjoyed that, did you?”
“Not the interruption. Or the voyeurs at the window. Or the paddle—that part stung.”
“But not my hand?” he challenged.
Heat filled her cheeks, which was answer enough.
“What else did you like?” he asked, amused.
“Being close to you, exploring with you, letting go with you.”
Passion sparked in his eyes. “I can make that happen.”
And she trusted he would. She trusted him. “Then I’m all yours,” she breathed.
“Yes, you are.” His thumb lifted her chin until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Say it properly.”
Her pulse kicked up, and she said without reservation, “I’m all yours, sir.”
“You don’t know what that does to me,” he growled, his lips trailing down her throat, his hands settling on her hips as she melted into him.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and pushed them down. He lifted her chest to chest and guided both legs around his waist. His hand slid between them, and she gasped as one finger sank into her heat, slow and deliberate.
Gaby thought the bedroom was next, but he lowered her to the couch.
“I changed my mind,” he said, voice rough as he settled between her thighs. “The bedroom is too far. I’m not waiting to have you. We’ll make it to the bed next time.”
At the promise of him not once but twice, she shivered. It turned into a shudder when he thrust deep. Then he moved, his mouth reclaiming hers, not rushed. Not frantic. Intentional.
Everything else faded away, leaving only the sensation of skin against skin, mingled breath, and their bodies joined. Slow, deliberate strokes built into a delicious tension, a shared rhythm that pulled them in deeper.
Gaby’s fingers dug into his shoulders, heels against his backside as she teetered on the edge.
“Rhys,” she gasped. “I can’t wait—”
“Fuck training. It starts tomorrow. Because I can’t either!”
The rest unfolded in a blur of closeness and breathless need, of whispered words and bliss that left her trembling in his arms. When his release came, with a muffled roar, she held on as if she’d never let go.
And she smiled into his neck, feeling his racing pulse against her cheek because this time she knew it wasn’t the end of their story.
It was the beginning.
***
When the storm of emotion finally eased, they lay curled in bed together, her head tucked beneath his chin, Rhys’s hand drifting over her shoulder and down her spine in soothing sweeps.
“This,” he murmured, “is what I tried to protect myself from. I’m a bloody fool.”
Gaby smiled faintly. “And I’m very glad you failed.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Best failure of my life.”
Both their phones chimed at once. Rhys reached for his without loosening his hold on her.
“Group text from Dev,” he said, reading aloud. “Dominoes are falling—arrests underway. You two did one hell of a job. Take the rest of the week off. See you Saturday at the wedding.”
“That was generous.”
He dropped his phone on the nightstand and gathered her close again. “He can be,” he said, fingers tracing lightly down her arm. “But give credit where credit’s due, love. It’s Thursday.”
“Oh. Well, then…”
Rhys laughed softly and rolled them until he was on top. “Which gives us forty-eight hours to ourselves.”
“Huh. Wonder what we can do with all that time.”
He grinned down at her. “Let me give it some thought.” Blue eyes bright with mischief, he lowered his head. “Wait. I know.” Then his lips met hers.