Chapter 26
26
Gage
“She fucking what?” I ask Jason, my fixer. The guy who handles shit for me before it ever reaches my desk.
“She’s mentioned LA a few times now in those Instagram lives she does, but that’s all I have so far. I’ll do some digging to see what else I can find, but I wanted to keep you up to date on this in case she’s given you any reason to suspect it. And Amelia’s fine. We dropped some more distraction content, and the team’s been working the comment threads hard. Social’s leaned back in her favor. We’ve tied shit up with Sofia Raye. She’s dropped the case, and Amelia will never hear from her again. I’ll still keep an eye on this situation, but it feels done now.”
Thank fuck.
Watching Amelia get dragged through shit the last few months has burned me raw. Sofia negotiated a ridiculous settlement, but the truth is I would’ve paid ten times that to make it stop.
To take the weight off Amelia.
To let her breath again.
To see her smile without bracing for the next hit.
Whatever it cost, I’d have paid it.
Jason and I go over a few work things and before we wrap, his tone shifts. “There’s one more thing I want to circle back to. Your bad press.”
The whispers about me online that started after the post about my clubs. The slow, steady drip of posts that don’t say anything outright, but still make me look like a man with something to hide. One who operates in shadows. Fixes things behind the scenes. The kind of man people suspect of crossing lines I don’t fucking touch.
We’ve been tracking it for weeks but there’s nothing there. No name attached. No clear agenda. Just smoke. And I don’t waste time on smoke.
“What about it?”
“The noise has gotten louder this week. It’s not just fringe threads or gossip posts anymore. There’s a pattern forming.”
I stay quiet, waiting.
“We’re across it all, but whoever’s behind it is smart. They’re feeding it slow. Anonymous leaks, comment swarms, burner phones. Clean hands, dirty trail. They’re building suspicion not scandal. But don’t be surprised if this escalates.”
“Keep digging. Find me something.”
We wrap up, and I immediately call Shayla. When she doesn’t answer, I leave her a voicemail. “Call me back as soon as you get this.”
Fuck.
I clench my jaw and drag a hand down my face.
I’ve had a gut feeling since Shayla got engaged to Michael that she’d try to relocate to Los Angeles and take Luna with her. The kind of gut feeling I’ve learned not to ignore.
Shayla never loved LA. Now? She’s there multiple times a month. And Michael? He’s one of those self-proclaimed New York purists who talks a good game about “protecting the craft” and not selling out to LA. But for all his speeches about integrity, his last three movies were big-budget action flicks funded by the LA studios he claims he’d never sell out to.
I asked Jason to keep an eye on things after they were engaged. Nothing’s pinged as a red flag until now. And my gut’s telling me not to wait.
I call Blair. She picks up straight away.
“Gage. What’s up?”
Her snark’s dialed down these days. Just barely. But when it counts, she knows how to flip the switch and be professional. She’s done good work for me with Luna. And I’ve adjusted my opinion of her because of it.
I give her a rundown on my concerns and the reasons for them.
“There’s nothing concrete yet,” I finish. “But my gut’s kicking up, and I’d rather be ahead of this than reacting too late.”
“You think she’s planning to relocate?”
“I think she’s laying the groundwork.”
“Okay. I’ll pull the custody order and go over all the clauses to see if anything in there gives her room to move. Don’t do anything until you hear back from me. I want to be clear on where she could argue ambiguity before we escalate.”
“I don’t need careful, Blair. I need ready.”
“Then let me do my job, and you’ll have both.”
We end the call, and I stretch my neck side to side before releasing a breath. There’s nothing in that order that gives Shayla the right to move Luna across the country without going through me. But that doesn’t mean she won’t try. And if this turns into a fight, it’s not me or Shayla who takes the hit. It’s Luna.
I shove my chair back and walk out of my office, catching the pale shimmer of Manhattan waking up beyond the glass. I’ve been up for hours, clearing a backlog of work I never used to have. First time in my life I’ve fallen behind, and I have the world’s most beautiful distraction to thank for it.
On my way down the hall to my bedroom, Luna launches herself at me, still hyped from the sleepover she and Sarah had last night. Amelia and I don’t do this all the time, stay together with the girls. We try to keep our usual routine. But sometimes, we give them the fun of a family night in and a school-night sleepover.
“Dad!” She blocks my path, eyes wide and sparkling. Her version of a strategic ambush. It’s the look I can’t say no to even when I try. “We wanna go to the symphony. Like you and me did last year. But this time with Sarah and Amelia.” She pauses for impact. “You know Amelia would love it.”
Luna adores Amelia. And ever since I told Amelia I was done sneaking around like a teenager a month ago—the night I gave her the collar—my daughter thinks all her dreams have come true. She’s already planning matching bedrooms for when her stepsister moves in.
She knows I’d take her to the symphony anytime she asks. But she’s been tying Amelia into everything—every plan, every moment—as if she’s trying to glue us together before anything can fall apart. I think she’s worried that if she doesn’t keep us close, we’ll end up like I did with her mother.
The weight of that lands in my chest harder than I want to admit. She’s just a kid, and she’s already trying to patch cracks that aren’t even there yet. And fuck if I’m going to let her carry that kind of fear. Not in this house. Not on my watch.
I ruffle her hair. “I know you would love it, baby girl. Of course, I’ll take you.”
“Yeah,” she says slowly, “but Sarah and Amelia can come too, right?”
“Yes, Luna, everyone can come.”
She beams, twirling once like her entire world just aligned. When she starts to take off down the hall, I catch her hand and gently tug her back.
“Amelia and I are good, Luna,” I say, keeping my voice quiet.
She nods, eyes wide, looking like she’s not quite sure where I’m taking this.
“No one’s going anywhere.”
She nods slowly, processing, and then gives me a small smile.
I let her go and she darts off, racing all the way to the other end of the hall where Sarah’s waiting for her in her bedroom. The girls’ excited chatter echoes behind me, fading the further I walk until I can’t hear it anymore at the edge of my bedroom door.
Amelia’s in the bathroom, phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, listening to someone talk while applying makeup.
Her eyes meet mine in the reflection when I rest my hip against the counter. She flashes a smile, then drops her gaze to my rolled-up sleeves that are ready for the humidity of the day. She lingers there. And then she gives me a look that belongs in the bedroom—full heat, full drama, silently asking, do we really need those rolled-up sleeves this early in the day?
I arch a brow and glance at that dress she’s wearing.
When I bring my gaze back, she just shoots me a sexy smile and goes back to perfecting her lips.
I eye the dress again. It’s cream silk with soft pink blooms scattered like a brush painted them on. Sheer in places. Ruffled sleeves sitting just off her shoulders. Legs on full fucking display. A dip at her chest giving more than a hint of cleavage.
And right there above it, sitting at her throat like it belongs there?
Her collar.
The declaration that every inch of her is spoken for.
My eyes fix on it like they always do now. Like they always will.
That collar speaks for her, but every time I see it, it roars in my head— mine .
Doesn’t matter how many times I see it. That reaction? Automatic.
Amelia finishes her call and pulls back from the mirror, eyes lit. “Guess what?”
“What?”
She wraps both arms around me, and says, “Sofia’s dropped her case against me. That was my lawyer on the phone. It’s all over.”
I bring a hand up to settle at the nape of her neck. “That’s great fucking news.” I don’t let on I’m already aware. That’s between me and Jason.
Her smile is electric, and I can see the weight that’s already lifted. “You’re taking me out tonight to celebrate.”
“Am I?” I say, like I’m not already halfway to planning the whole damn night around her.
Her smile shifts into the kind of sexy look that means my ruin is imminent. “Well, I mean, I hope so, because I don’t really have the time to go out and find another man to celebrate with.”
“Fuck,” I growl, because just the thought of that makes me lose my mind.
My hand tightens at her neck, and I bring my mouth to her ear. “Another man touches you, I bury him. You wanna celebrate? I’ll start with my mouth, end with my cock, and remind you why it’s my fucking collar around your neck.”
“Jesus, Gage,” she says breathlessly as I pull my head back and ease my grip on her neck. Her arms unwrap from me, and she drops a hand to the counter to steady herself. “I’m not built to withstand you like that at seven on a Tuesday morning.”
I bend my face and steal a rough, hungry kiss that’s nowhere near long enough. When I’m done, I spend a moment just looking, taking her in, catching my breath. No one’s ever affected me the way she does, and sometimes I need the pause to get my head straight, to pull the heat back, to ground myself in her.
I give her neck one last squeeze, her lips one last kiss, and let her go. Then, I change the conversation to give both of us a break from the need that’s always right there.
“Luna’s in planning mode again. She asked for all of us to attend the symphony.”
“She mentioned it to me.” She pauses, collecting her thoughts while her expression shifts into that quiet worry she wears when something matters to her. “I’m concerned about her, Gage. I don’t know her like you do, but it feels like she’s scared of things changing. Of things breaking. It feels like she’s trying to keep us all close now that we’re together.”
“Yeah, I’ve caught that. I had a quick word with her this morning, but I need to spend more time with her. Dig into it properly.” My guilt flares again. “I think she’s trying to hold everything together because she’s afraid you and I will go the way I did with Shayla. I’ll talk to her and fix it.”
“That makes sense.” She releases a breath. “God, I hate how our trauma affects our kids. I had Sarah so young. I didn’t even know what my real wounds were back then, let alone know to heal them so I didn’t pass them on.”
I watch her as I listen to every word she says—this woman who holds both softness and steel. She’s not just smart. She’s self-aware. She doesn’t hide from her past; she works through it. Quietly. Relentlessly. For herself. For her daughter. And now without even realizing it, for Luna too.
I don’t know how I got this lucky. But I’ll do whatever it takes not to fuck this up. To keep Amelia by my side.
“We do the best we can in the minute,” I say, then pause, because she deserves more than that. “But not everyone does what you’re doing, Amelia. Not everyone looks their shit in the eye and chooses better. Sarah’s lucky to have you.” I let that sit. Let it land. “So is Luna. And so am I.”
She stills, and I catch the flicker of disbelief, the instinct to downplay it.
I don’t let her.
“You might not see yourself that way,” I say. “But I do. Let yourself hear it.”
She doesn’t respond, and I think she’s trying to decide what to do with my words. Then, she says, “Thank you for saying that.” Her voice might be soft, but I hear the weight in it that says she heard me.
I give her a second to let it all settle, my gaze drifting down the length of her dress while I do that. “What’s the occasion today?” At her confusion, I elaborate, “The dress.”
“Oh, I’m having lunch with the girls. We’re taking Maddie out for her first outing since she got home from the hospital. And yes, there will be baby snuggles. Annalise is the main event.”
Fuck, I like seeing Amelia with my family.
The way she’s won my brothers over with her nerdy realness.
The way she’s right there with the girls, all in their business, laughing like she’s known them forever, and enjoying the kind of friendship I know is new to her.
And the way both my parents have welcomed her with open arms.
I’ve never gone looking for easy. I don’t trust it. Good things come hard and cost something. That’s what I’ve always believed.
But being with Amelia?
Hell if she doesn’t make everything feel easy. Not simple. Not shallow. But like maybe this is what it feels like when something fits without needing to be forced.
“That’s a sexy-as-hell dress for lunch with the girls,” I say.
She catches the heat in my eyes and her hands immediately find my shirt, grasping it. A signature Amelia move; one I’m not sure she even knows she does. But I know. I feel it every damn time. It’s the kind of instinct that wrecks me, because it’s not calculated or conscious. It’s need. Quiet, everyday need. And every time, it reminds me that she’s here. In my space. Grabbing my shirt because I’m hers.
“It’s really not,” she says.
“It really fucking is.”
“You think every dress is sexy.”
Both our phones light up with a text that’s just hit the family group chat. Amelia checks the message while I try like fuck to remove my eyes from her tits.
She groans. “Kristen is still hounding me about that gala.”
It’s a gala Kristen’s hosting to raise money for arts for children. She wants Amelia to perform before giving a speech. The very thing that would make my woman’s soul exit the building.
She looks at me like she just had a genius idea. “We need to strategize over this.”
“Over what?”
“You, me, dinner, and a strategy session. Teach me your ways of getting out of things.”
“I don’t need a strategy for that, Amelia. I’d just fucking say no.”
She pulls a face. “Ugh. We can’t all be like you.”
Then, her expression changes, and I just know she’s about to hit me with something that’ll shoot my focus to shit.
“That’s okay,” she says sweetly, lips curving into trouble. “If I can’t practice with you, I’ll practice on you.” Her eyes run down my body, voice turning low and lethal. “I’ll sit on your throne. Naked. Just my collar. And I’ll touch myself. Edge myself for hours while you watch. And every time you try to touch me, I’ll say no.” She pauses, let’s that hang. “I’d probably need a lot of practice.” Her smile is fucking wicked. “Days. Weeks. Maybe months.”
Christ .
My palm is straight to her hip, rough and greedy, and I’m yanking her closer until there’s no air between us. “You say that shit to me when our daughters are here, and I can’t fucking do anything about it?”
She bites her lip. Doesn’t say a word.
Fuck .
“Princess, you keep running your mouth like that, I’m going to spend the entire day hard and homicidal.”
Still not a word, just that sweet and innocent act that she knows fucks with my control.
I kick the bathroom door shut and reach out to lock it, not giving Amelia even an inch.
Then, I lean in close. “Say one more thing like that, and you’ll sit on that fucking throne, tied and dripping, and I’ll use your body to remind you exactly who you belong to.” My hand grips her ass. “You wanna edge me with words? Turn me into something I can’t cage?” My fingers dig the hell in. “Then you better be ready for what that gets you.”
She’s hot and needy from my words alone, and it takes every-fucking-thing in me not to bend her over the vanity and fuck her so deep she won’t speak in complete sentences for days.
“I’ll kneel between your legs, tongue on your pussy, fingers in it, until you’re shaking and begging and soaking wet down your thighs.”
She’s fucking panting.
“I won’t touch my cock. I won’t fuck you. Not until I see you fall apart so many times you forget why you were even playing this game.”
I grip her chin. “You think you can outlast me, Princess? I’ll ruin you with patience. I’ll edge you until you’re screaming, and when I finally fuck you”—my hand slides between us, claiming her pussy through the thin fabric of her dress—“you’ll thank me for every second I made you wait.”
She moans, and goddamn , I’m losing my fucking mind over this woman.
“Gage...” She fists my shirt, turned on as hell with no release in sight.
I dip my head, voice dropping to a growl. “You wanna learn how to say no?” My lips brush hers. “Let me show you what it takes to survive.”
She grips my face and absolutely fucking slays me with a reckless kiss that will stay with me all day. When she’s had her fill, she keeps hold of my jaw and says so fucking breathlessly that I have to call on every scrap of control I have not to just give her my cock, “The only place I want you to take me tonight is to your throne. And there will be cameras on, so bring your A-game for me.”
“Christ. You’re fucking killing me, Amelia.” I let her go, needing a minute to get my shit together.
My hands go straight to my hips, and I drag in a breath through my nose. My body’s on fire, cock rock hard, pulse still hammering like I’m about to bend her the fuck over.
I press a hand to the wall. Not for balance. Just to ground myself.
Amelia watches me, chest rising and falling, her face flushed, and yeah, she looks as taken to the edge as I feel. “In my next life,” she says, “I’m not having children. I just want a sex overlord and twenty-four-seven options.”
“Dad!” Luna’s voice comes from the other side of the bathroom door. “We need your help.”
“Give me a minute, sweetheart.” My eyes are still on Amelia, my body still sorting itself the fuck out.
“Okay, but be quick!”
“I’ll go,” Amelia says, and with one last quick brush of her lips over mine, and one last grasp of my shirt, she unlocks the door and leaves to help the girls.
I give myself a minute.
A long fucking minute.
And once I’ve got myself under control, I go and see if they need me. Which they don’t, so I head into the kitchen and make coffee for the drive to work. I’ve just finished when Shayla calls.
“Thanks for calling me back.”
“I was out running,” she says, slightly breathless. “What’s so urgent?”
“Are you planning to move to LA with Michael?”
I’m met with silence, which only stirs my gut feeling more.
Then, “Why?”
“I heard you’ve been talking about it on Instagram.”
“Jesus, Gage. Are you stalking my socials now?”
“No, I’m not stalking you. But I keep tabs. You’re the mother of my daughter, Shayla. I have every right to know if you’re planning to move Luna across the country.”
“Wow. There it is. The controlling tone I know so well.”
“It’s not controlling to want to know your plans that involve our daughter. You’re in LA a lot these days. Michael works there almost full time. Don’t insult my intelligence.”
“You’re reading way too much into this. Even if I was thinking about moving, it’s not like I’d just take Luna without talking to you.”
“You’re damn right about that. We have a custody agreement, and you can’t do anything without going through me first.”
“And there’s the Gage we know and love. The man who has to know everything, read into everything, and manage every situation.”
I ignore her shit. “If you’re planning something that changes Luna’s life, I deserve to know. And not through Instagram stories. You want to move, you bring it to me first.”
She laughs, but there’s no light in it. “Let me guess, you’ve already talked to your lawyer.”
“Don’t test me on this, Shayla,” I snap, my patience fraying.
“Wow. There he is. You really haven’t changed, have you? Tell me, how’s your new girlfriend coping? Let her know if she needs any tips, I’m her girl.”
I rub the back of my neck, fighting like fuck to keep my voice level. “You want to uproot our daughter for your boyfriend? Fine. Just know if you try to take her out of the city permanently, I will fight it. Every step of the way.”
I end the call, my thumb hitting the screen harder than necessary. For a second, I just stand there. Breathing hard. Jaw tight. Shoulders like stone.
That wasn’t how I wanted to handle it. Pushing her like that wasn’t in my plan.
I meant every word, but the delivery was off. My tone too sharp.
Fuck .
I roll my shoulders, trying to shake it off. But this isn’t going to shake off easily. There’s too much at stake here and I just threw gasoline on the fire.
I turn to walk back into the bedroom and immediately stop, every muscle in my body tensing when I see Amelia standing there looking at me like she’s just seen or heard something that she needs to tread carefully with.
“Was that Shayla?” she asks quietly, her eyes cautious.
“Yeah.” I feel that sick pull low in my gut that tells me I just fucked something up that matters. Because I know what her fears were coming into this relationship. I know she’s worried I’ll hurt her, and I sure as hell know the kind of man she never wants to be with again. And fuck . What she just heard had to sound bad.
She’s slow to speak again.
“Are you okay?”
“I think she’s planning to move to LA, but she won’t talk to me about it.”
She swallows. “You sounded intense.”
I nod, my regret crashing into me again. “I didn’t handle it well. Blair told me not to speak to Shayla, to let her do her job. I fucked up.” I breathe out hard, but it doesn’t help. Not with the pressure of everything I’m carrying. “I know the custody order would hold. If it came down to it, I could stop her from taking Luna. But Jesus, Amelia...what kind of father drags his daughter through a war just to say he won? I don’t want to fight Shayla in court. I don’t want Luna stuck in the middle. But I also can’t let her go. I can’t lose her.”
Amelia doesn’t speak straight away. She just watches me—really watches me—like she’s stripping me bare with those sharp eyes of hers. Assessing the damage. Reading all the parts I try to keep hidden.
Trying to understand me.
And then, like a tide turning, I see her caution dissolving. Her jaw softens and her shoulders drop with a slow exhale.
She crosses the room to me.
Not tentative.
Not afraid.
Certain .
Her hand finds mine, fingers lacing tight. “You didn’t fuck anything up, Gage. You did what you always do. You carried the weight alone so no one else would bleed.”
Then she reaches for my face—one palm framing my jaw—and leans in pressing a kiss to my lips. Not passionate. Just sure . A tether and a promise and a fucking reckoning.
When she pulls back, she doesn’t let go. “You’re not alone in this. Not even a little bit.”
And goddamn, I feel it in my bones.
She’s still here.
We’re still here.