Chapter Twenty-three
Mikkel
“Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.”
~ Joan Crawford
N ot every man got a chance like this—a chance with a woman who felt like a miracle from God made just for him.
Seeing her felt like stepping into a daydream, my heart practically sprouting yellow hearts above my head like some cosmic confirmation. She was it. The kind of woman who made me want to be better, who had me pining after her before I even knew her name. And that smile? It was blinding. Like catching the first sunrise after a lifetime of darkness. It wrecked me.
I wasn’t one to talk about the past. But with her, it just spilled out. It felt right. And when she reached for my hand—when she looked at me like I was worth seeing—I knew.
She wasn’t just a sign. She was the whole damn universe aligning.
I had plans. Big ones. Dates that would make her laugh until she forgot the world. Because if anyone deserved happiness in abundance, it was her. And if I had any say in it, she was going to get it.
That woman—that brilliant, breathtaking force of nature?
She was Abigail-Ann Asher. My Red.
And whatever came next, I’d make damn sure she never had a reason to let go.
Yet here I was, in a city that wasn’t home, counting down the hours until I could get back to her.
As the car rolled up to the glass high-rise, I exhaled, restlessness settling deep in my chest. Chicago was fine—great, even—but home was wherever she was. And I needed to be there.
The buzz around the Elite Rides grand opening was palpable. The venue was polished, our branding bold and impossible to miss. Inside, the energy matched the chaos outside—everything falling into place. Or so I thought.
I stood at the entrance, frustration simmering as I took in the final touches. Staff moved swiftly, managing last-minute details while the first set of guests trickled in. Beside me, Morison straightened his tie, his sharp gaze catching the same imperfections I did.
“Everything looks good, sir?” he asked, eyeing me knowingly.
“Not yet,” I muttered. “The display needs adjusting, the banner is crooked, and the lighting’s too harsh.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll handle it.” He gave me a slight smile. “You won’t stop until it’s perfect, huh?”
I glanced at him, jaw tight. “Not until it’s exactly how I envisioned it.”
With the last few tweaks in place, the atmosphere shifted, settling into something that finally felt right.
“Everything’s been adjusted, sir,” Morison said confidently. “Media’s all set in the back, and the investors are making their way in.”
Sapphire joined us, clipboard in hand. “We’ve also got a lineup of local influencers covering the event, and the turnout’s already looking solid. It’s going to be a great day. ”
As they spoke, my phone buzzed in my hand with a text from Abigail lighting up the screen.
Red : Good luck today. I know it’s going to be amazing *yellow heart*.
Me: Thanks, Red. You get off work late tonight, right?
Red: Yeah, I’m there from open to close.
Me: Have you eaten?
Red: Not yet. I really want Chipotle.
Me: Then I’ll have someone deliver it to you.
Red: I was gonna get it later…
Me: Don’t worry about that, mi amor. I’ll handle it.
Red: Thank you *yellow heart*
Red: How’s Chicago?
Me: Productive. I just really miss you.
Red: I miss you, too. Hopefully, you’ll be back soon.
“Sir,” Morison called, pulling my attention away from my phone. “The cars are arriving.”
I nodded. “Perfect. Also, have someone deliver Chipotle and a bouquet of primroses to Book Culture. No later than half an hour from now.”
He grabbed his phone. “The same order as last time? To Abigail?”
“Yes.”
Morison gave a quick nod. “And it’s all taken care of, sir. The delivery is on its way.”
Turning back to my phone, I sent one last text.
Me: Sorry about that, Red. I have to go but I’ll call you later.
I slipped my phone into my pocket, a flicker of a smile tugging at my lips. Outside, sleek black cars pulled up in perfect sync, their drivers stepping out in polished uniforms to open doors for their passengers. Effortless luxury. Seamless efficiency. This was the image we wanted to project.
“We’re not just launching,” I said, adjusting my cufflinks. “We’re making a statement. Elite Rides is here to stay.”
Morison checked his watch. “Thirty minutes until the speeches. Media talking points covered, sir?”
“Of course.” I didn’t need a reminder; I’d been preparing for this moment long before today.
The clock ticked down, and I took a breath, letting the anticipation settle. This was more than expansion—it was proof of what we’d built. Proof that we weren’t just another name in the industry; we were the future of mobility.
When the time came, I stepped to the podium, and the crowd hushed. “Welcome, everyone, to the launch of Elite Rides in Chicago. This city has always been known for innovation, and today, we bring a new era of luxury transportation to your streets.”
Applause erupted. I continued, laying out our mission, the tech behind our service, and the high standards we upheld. I highlighted our partnerships, our drivers’ elite training, and the seamless experience that set us apart.
After the speeches, we worked the room. Sapphire handled investors, Morison engaged with the media, and I made sure to be everywhere, shaking hands, answering questions, and solidifying connections .
Sapphire smirked as she approached. “Did you catch that reporter’s eye? She seemed very interested in our tech features.”
I let out a short laugh. “Good. Let’s keep the momentum going.”
As the evening wore on, I slipped away for a few minutes to check in on Abigail before returning to the mix. That’s when Damon Ashford, one of the most skeptical investors, approached me.
“I’ll admit, Suarez, I had my doubts. Big ones.” He gestured to the crowd, his smirk just this side of impressed. “But after seeing all this? Let’s just say, I wouldn’t bet against you. This kind of vision would do well in Seattle.”
“This is just the beginning,” I said, matching his energy. “Good. Let’s keep them talking.”
Sapphire joined us, eyes sharp with satisfaction. “We’ve already had new investors express interest.”
Ashford nodded, his skepticism fading. “Now that’s the kind of talk I want to hear. Looking forward to more business with you, Suarez.”
The night ended with a toast—glasses raised, deals secured, the promise of something bigger taking root.
Then we were off, rushing to catch a flight to Seattle for an acquisition meeting before heading home. Exhaustion clung to me like a second skin, but there was no time to dwell on it. By the time we landed in New York, I’d texted Abigail, stolen three hours of sleep, and thrown myself right back into the grind. No rest for the relentless.
“Good morning, everyone,” I said, stepping into my office. My team straightened as I walked in, their attention snapping to me. “Sapphire, do we have the final itinerary for the Dupont event tonight?”
“Yes, it’s all set,” she replied, handing me a neatly organized folder. “Drivers are briefed, and the cars are ready to go.”
“Excellent.” I flipped through the documents. “David, any updates on the maintenance checks for the fleet?”
“Just finished up. All vehicles are in top shape.”
“Good. We have a new client meeting at three. Let’s make sure everything is seamless. ”
My phone buzzed, Abigail’s name flashing across the screen. My chest warmed instantly. “Excuse me for a moment.” Stepping into my office, I shut the door behind me and answered.
“Hey, Red.” My voice softened automatically. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good.” She sounded gentle, but there was something underneath—something quieter, harder to read.
“Miss me?”
“I do.” There was a pause.
I exhaled, leaning against my desk. “I’m sorry for the lack of communication today. I got in late this morning, and I’m at the office now. Things have been hectic with the expansion. I’ve got a client meeting soon, then I need to sign off on some paperwork with Sapphire.”
“Sapphire?” Her tone shifted. It wasn’t obvious—just a small flicker, like a note played off-key.
I frowned slightly. “She’s the operations manager.”
“Right,” she murmured. A little cooler now. Not cold, but careful.
“What’s wrong?”
Silence. Not long, but just enough. And when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, hesitant.
“It’s nothing.” Too quick.
I stayed quiet, waiting her out.
She sighed. “It’s just… I’m not a fan of hearing about other women.” Her words were soft but certain. “I’ve been through some things, and it’s hard not to feel a little uneasy when I hear that.”
“I get it, Red,” I murmured, my voice steady. “But listen to me, there’s no one else. There won’t be. You’re it.”
A beat passed. Then, finally, “Okay,” she whispered.
“What time are you off today?”
“Eight.”
“You’ve been there since seven,” I pointed out, a frown tugging at my brow.
“Yeah, but it’s fine. I don’t mind. The library’s a great fit for me, and everyone’s really nice. ”
“I’m glad,” I said, a smile tugging at my lips. “Just promise me you won’t overwork yourself.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Hypocrite.
A knock at my door pulled me back. Sapphire stepped in, signaling that the clients were ready.
“The clients are here. I’ll see you later, amor .”
“Later,” she whispered.
The call ended, but the weight of her voice stayed with me. Later. Too far away.
Sapphire ushered the clients into my office, and I greeted them with a welcoming smile, instantly switching gears to professionalism.
“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Astar. It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” I said, motioning for them to sit.
Alexandria and Edmund Astar were powerhouses in East Coast real estate, owning several high-end properties across the globe. Everyone wanted to work with them, but only a select few made the cut. Today, I was one of them.
“Likewise, Mr. Suarez,” Edmund responded, his voice carrying authority.
“We’ve heard excellent things about your services from Dr. Ronan Romano and our lawyer, Mr. Arnoldo Reyes,” Alexandria added, her tone poised and assured.
“I appreciate their recommendation,” I replied, making a mental note to thank Ronan and Arnoldo later.
They wasted no time outlining the specifics of a private driver contract for their daughters, detailing their expectations with clarity.
“Their schedules can be unpredictable, so flexibility is key,” Edmund explained. “We also value discretion and professionalism above all else.”
“I understand,” I nodded. “We pride ourselves on both, ensuring privacy and providing top-tier service.”
“We’d also prefer someone well-versed in the city’s layout, especially for last-minute changes,” Alexandria added.
Edmund met my gaze. “We’ve done our research, Mr. Suarez. With the praise your company has received, we’re certain you’re the only one we want to work with. We’d like to know if you’ll take us on as clients.”
The decision was easy. “I’ll personally oversee the selection of a driver who meets your full requirements once they’re officially drafted,” I assured them. “We’re honored to have the opportunity to serve your family.”
“It’s our pleasure, Mr. Suarez.” Edmund stood, his handshake firm, decisive—an unspoken acknowledgment that this deal was worth both our time.
As they left my office, I turned to Sapphire with a satisfied grin. “That went well. Looks like we’ve landed another valuable client.”
Sapphire nodded, her tone equally pleased. “Absolutely, Mr. Suarez. The Astar family is a major addition. I’ll start on the paperwork and follow up with them to finalize the details.”
“Perfect,” I replied, leaning back in my chair. “Keep me updated. I want everything seamless—no room for errors.”
Sapphire gave a sharp nod. “Of course.”
As she exited the office, I swiveled my chair toward the window, gazing at the cityscape beyond. Another win. Another step toward making Elite Rides unstoppable.
Today was a disaster in slow motion.
Thirteen meetings. Interviews. Two photo shoots. Endless back-and-forth emails. By now, I was running on fumes and a whiskey buzz that was starting to backfire. I rubbed a hand down my face, willing the irritation away as Cataleya Nguyen pushed another question across the table.
“Mr. Suarez,” she began, her voice calm but pointed, “with expansion into more cities, how will you preserve Elite Rides’ exclusivity and premium appeal? Scaling up risks diluting the brand.”
It was a fair concern, but my patience was wearing thin. I leaned back, adjusting my cufflinks—a subtle tell when I was keeping my temper in check.
“Our reputation is non-negotiable,” I said evenly. “We’re synchronizing driver training, customer perks, and app updates across markets to maintain consistency. Expansion isn’t a risk, it’s an opportunity, and we’ll surpass expectations.”
She studied me briefly, her brow furrowing before nodding in acceptance. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly as the discussion moved on to less critical topics.
The rest of the day unfolded in a blur: an interview with a tech magazine on our algorithm, followed by a development team meeting about a minor fare calculation bug.
By three, I’d managed to scarf down half a sandwich between phone calls, one with our marketing director, who needed approval for an upcoming ad campaign, and another with our lawyers about new regulations for transport services outside of the United States.
The first photo shoot of the day came after that, where I stood in front of a white backdrop while some overenthusiastic photographer barked orders at me like I was a damn mannequin.
“Chin up, Mr. Suarez. You look powerful but not very approachable,” the photographer called out, adjusting the angle of the camera.
Approachable? I was one more instruction away from losing it.
I forced a tight smile, holding the pose for another shot. As the photographer leaned in to adjust the lighting, I leveled him with a sharp look. “Watch it. I don’t have endless patience today.”
The thought of the gym was almost laughable at that point. My workout gear sat in my car, mocking me. I’d promised myself I’d make it, even if only for thirty minutes. But by the time I considered it, another meeting was waiting, where someone on the board would ask the same question a thousand different ways, only to get the same answer.
The meeting dragged on as expected, and focus became harder as I wrapped up my last point. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was twelve minutes to eight.
The rest of the room started packing up their notes, murmuring polite goodbyes, but I stayed seated for a moment longer. I needed to breathe, to let the silence settle before heading back into the chaos .
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, scrolling through emails. Another client issue, another marketing request, another update from the tech team. It felt endless, and the day still wasn’t over.
Then I saw her name pop up, and fuck , I hadn’t spoken to Abigail much today. Guilt settled in my chest as I opened her text.
Red: I hope your day is going okay.
Red: Thanks for lunch, by the way!!
Me: You’re always welcome. As for work, it’s exhausting. How’s your day going?
Red: Too busy, but we close soon.
I stared at the screen, waiting for the typing bubbles. They appeared, disappeared, then popped up again.
Me: I can only imagine. We haven’t seen each other much lately.
Me: I’ll come see you after I leave my office tonight.
Red: I’ll come to you instead. I know how exhausted you are.
Me: Are you sure? It’s no problem to drive to you.
Me: It never is.
Red: I’m very sure. Text me your address.
Me: Okay, I’ll see you later.
Red: Good.
Red: Let me know when you’re done.
Me: I will.
The longing of missing her sharpened as I set my phone down. A quick text thread wasn’t enough, not when hearing her voice could’ ve been the one thing to salvage this day. But for now, it was enough to keep me going.
There was a knock at the door, and Morison poked his head in. “The next photographers are waiting for your headshots, and The New York Times is asking for an extra five minutes on the follow-up interview about the expansion. Should I push them?”
“No,” I muttered, standing. “Let’s get it over with because I won’t be in office tomorrow.”
By the time I finished with the pictures, the interview, and wrapped up in my office, it was past nine—one of my longest days in a while. Days like these always took me back to the first eighteen months of Elite Rides, when I practically lived at the office, chasing deals and managing setbacks.
I sank into the seat, exhaling as the door shut. Silence, at last. Fifteen hours of chaos behind me. I checked my phone—Abigail’s name lit up the screen.
Red: I’m twenty minutes away from your building.
Me: I can’t wait to see you.
I shut off my phone, navigating the quiet streets with her on my mind—grateful for someone who cared enough to stay. At the penthouse, I dropped my keys and headed for a shower, but exhaustion clung to me.
Pulling on sweatpants, I collapsed onto the couch, my head sinking into the cushion. My body felt like lead—aching feet, a throbbing head, and muscles too tired to move.
The soft buzz of my phone broke through the haze of exhaustion. It was the front desk.
“Mr. Suarez, there’s a Ms. Abigail-Ann Asher here to see you?”
“Send her up, and make it a standing order. Thank you.” I hung up, relief crashing over me. Abigail was here. She didn’t know it, but she was the only part of today worth staying awake for.
The elevator chimed, and I opened the door to find her standing there with determination in her eyes .
“You didn’t have to come all this way,” I murmured, leaning against the doorframe. “But I’m glad you did.”
“And you didn’t have to work yourself to exhaustion.” She stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over me. “But I’m glad I’m here too.”
A breathy chuckle escaped me.
“Come on.” She slid her hand into mine, tugging me toward the living room.
“I’d give you the full tour, but…” I gestured vaguely, too drained to finish the sentence.
She waved it off. “Not why I’m here.”
When we stepped into the living room, she stopped, taking in the white-on-white aesthetic. “You’re officially the cleanest person I know.”
I frowned. “Hm?”
“Your whole house is white. It’s beautiful. Untouched.”
A soft laugh rumbled from my chest, the first genuine one all day. “I’m hardly here enough to make a mess.”
She arched her brow but didn’t press. Instead, she turned to me and said, “Sit.”
I obeyed, sinking into the couch as she settled beside me, cupping my face. Her thumb brushed over my cheek before she kissed me—soft, slow, calming the restless energy in my chest.
“I need another one,” I whispered.
She chuckled, leaning in again, her fingers threading through my hair.
“Better?”
I shook my head, shameless. “Not even close.”
Her laugh filled the room—sweet, bright. As she started to pull away, I caught her cheek, my grip gentle but firm. “I think I need ten more just to make sure I’m fully recovered.”
Was I desperate for her? No. I was beyond desperate. I was ruined, consumed, completely hers. Ten kisses wouldn’t be enough. A hundred wouldn’t either. I’d spend forever chasing her, holding onto every second she gave me, and still, I’d need more. Always more. Always her.
“Recovered from what? ”
“Barely seeing you, Red.”
She rolled her eyes but stayed, pressing a kiss to my temple, resting a hand on my chest. Then her fingers stilled. Her gaze lingered, brows furrowing.
I brushed my fingers over her cheek. “ Amor ? What’s wrong?”
She swallowed. “Your necklace… there’s a silver pendant with an ‘A’.”
Glancing down, I lifted it slightly, smirking. “Yeah, there is.”
Her lips parted. “How long have you had it?”
“A little over two weeks.”
She exhaled. “Oh my gosh…”
I tucked a curl behind her ear, my voice softening. “You’re with me, so you should be with me, even when you’re not next to me.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You own me, Red. It’s only fair I wear something to prove it.”
Her fingers traced the pendant, her touch reverent. “There are stones…”
“Aquamarine,” I murmured. “Your birthstone.”
Her eyes shimmered with something I couldn’t name. “Mikkel…”
I lifted my wrist, showing her the matching bracelet wrapped around it. “And this,” I added, tilting my wrist so the ‘A’ charm caught the light. “Got it the same day.”
Her fingers ghosted over the charm like she wasn’t sure it was real. “You… I…” She swallowed. “You really wear these every day?”
“Every damn day.” I caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Because I’m yours.”
She let out a shaky breath, her touch lingering on the necklace, the bracelet, as if memorizing them, as if trying to convince herself they were real.
I kissed her forehead again, pulling her closer, her warmth sinking into me. My eyes grew heavy, and with her in my arms, the world outside ceased to exist.
My eyes snapped open, heart pounding from a restless sleep. That was the most amount of rest I’ve gotten in the past month and fuck, it felt good. The watch on my wrist read one in the morning, and my body ached, the exhaustion still clinging to me. I shifted, realizing I was no longer curled up in Abigail’s arms but alone on my sofa with a blanket draped over me. A soft breath escaped me as I looked around, noticing her bag resting on the coffee table.
She was still here. Thank God.
I called her name softly, but when no response came, I groggily got up, rubbing my eyes. As I stepped toward the kitchen, I saw her standing by the sink, clearing dishes. I blinked, confused. Did I leave dishes out? And wait—what was that smell?
“Hey,” I said, walking in.
She looked up with a small smile. “You’re awake. Hey.”
I dropped into a seat at the kitchen island, still shaking off sleep. “What are you doing?”
She turned, holding a mug and a bowl. “I made pasta.” She set them down in front of me. “And ginger tea. It helps with exhaustion.”
Warmth spread through my chest. Gratitude. Guilt. Something deeper. “I’m sorry for falling asleep on you earlier. I know you have work tomorrow and—”
She silenced me with a kiss. “My shift isn’t until midday.” She pulled back, her gaze steady. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground. You needed the rest.”
I exhaled, my shoulders loosening. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to.” Her voice was soft but certain. “Now eat.”
I let her words settle, still amazed at how she always knew exactly what I needed. I took a bite, the rich, comforting taste sinking into me. “This is really good.” I glanced at her. “Is that whiskey I taste? ”
She smiled, leaning against the counter. “Just a little for flavor.”
I took another bite, studying her. Does she even realize what she’s doing to me? “Te aprecio, nena. 48 ”
She hesitated, then said, almost shyly, “Since I know you’ll be working from home tomorrow, I prepped some meals for you.” A pause. “Shrimp, steak, and chicken with fried rice and a side salad. They’re in the fridge. And there’s a smoothie and breakfast burritos, too. So you can grab them whenever you’re hungry.”
I stilled, staring at her. “? Qué ? 49 ”
She shifted under my gaze. “I’m sorry if I o—”
“No.” I cut her off before she could finish. “Don’t apologize. I’ve just… never had anyone do this for me.”
Something flickered in her eyes before she stepped closer, her fingers brushing mine. “I just want to make tomorrow easier.”
The knot in my chest unraveled.
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”
She tilted her head, like the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “You don’t have to thank me.” Then, with a small, teasing smile, she kissed my cheek. “It’s just cooking for the guy I really like.”
I held her gaze, heart pounding. “The guy you really like?”
She rolled her eyes, but there was laughter in them. “Yes, Mikkel. The guy I really like.”
It wasn’t just the food. It was her. The way she made me feel like I mattered.
I took another bite of the pasta, letting the comforting taste wash over me as the exhaustion quietly crept back in.
“Eat, get some rest, and you’ll feel better tomorrow.”
I nodded, but sleep felt elusive with the warmth of her care and support settling in my chest.
When Abigail stood to gather her things, a quiet ache settled in my chest. I didn’t want her to go.
“I should get going,” she whispered, reluctance threading her voice like it did my thoughts.
I walked her downstairs, my mind heavy. At the door, she paused, offering a soft smile. “Goodnight, Mikkel.”
My chest tightened. “Goodnight, carino . 50 ”
She hesitated. “I would’ve stayed, but I don’t have anything…”
Caught between wanting her close and respecting boundaries, I replied, “It’s fine,” though it didn’t feel right.
She smiled faintly, reading me too well. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before she left, I brushed a curl behind her ear, pulled her close, and kissed her—slow and unhurried, carrying everything I’d been holding back.
She kissed me back just as softly, her hands resting on my chest.
When we finally pulled apart, she was breathless, lips warm against mine. “I think I’m the one who needs ten more of those, now.”
A soft laugh escaped me. “In that case…”
I kissed her again, a lingering touch, then pulled away. “Let me know when you get home.”
“I will.” Her gaze lingered before she slipped into the night.
Back on the couch, phone in hand, I waited. The moment her message came through, relief settled over me, and finally, I let sleep take me.