Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bea flexed her hand as she slipped her tablet into her bag, the ache in her fingers a familiar reminder of the week’s relentless exams. Final semester push.
No time to breathe, barely time to eat. Gage had noticed.
He’d sent food twice already, each delivery with the same message: Finish all of it. No excuses.
She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake the exhaustion. Just one more test tomorrow. Then she was done. Adjusting the strap of her bag, she stepped into the hallway. The buzz of students filled the air, conversations swirling with market trends and investment strategies.
Then she felt it—a ripple in the air, like gravity tilting toward something solid. Something immovable.
Someone. Him.
Gage stood diagonally from the door, a commanding figure in a dark suit lit against the bright corridor lights. His watch gleamed as he checked the time.
He wasn’t waiting casually. He was waiting deliberately.
Bea’s steps slowed. Heat crept up the back of her neck. It wasn’t just the sight of him, though that was enough to make her pulse slip. It was the fact he was here, now, at the height of finals week, with cross-year exams, in the busiest corridor on campus.
And she knew. He had chosen this moment.
Whatever was coming next, he wanted it to be seen.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him, too.
Rafael. Leaning against one of the columns, halfway down the corridor, with a bunch of other seniors. Jacket slung over his hoodie, arms crossed.
And somehow, that Rafael was part of the audience made her extra self-aware. Her grip tightened on her bag, pulse going manic, as Gage slowly approached her.
The steady thrum of laughter and conversation thinned, tapering off into fractured murmurs. A slow, inevitable hush spread through the hall, like a wave pulling back before it crashed. Footsteps lost their rhythm.
Bea didn’t have to look around to know—everyone was waiting.
Gage’s smooth voice cut clean through the charged air, designed to land exactly where he intended. “Ready, sweetheart?”
The endearment was like a spark in dry grass, setting the atmosphere alight, searing away any pretense of ambiguity.
Bea’s stomach swooped, her skin prickling under the weight of so many eyes. She felt the realization locking into place in every mind, clean and final, like a signed contract.
Gage was staking his claim.
She didn’t move at first. Not from doubt. From knowing exactly what this meant.
I want you to be mine. Tell me you’re mine.
She hadn’t said it that night. So now, he’d come to take it.
And deep down, she’d known it was coming.
Carefully, she stepped toward him. Gage extended his hand, palm up. Her fingers slid into his. His grip closed around hers—warm, firm, just possessive enough. A single brush of his thumb against her skin, barely there. But she felt it everywhere.
Without looking back, Gage turned, guiding her through the hall, his pace unhurried, his mission complete. Whatever they thought they knew about them, Gage had just made known for sure.
Rafael didn’t waver from his spot by the column. If there were tension in his jaw, Bea didn’t see it. She just felt Gage’s hand against hers.
The cool evening air pressed to her skin as the hum of campus chatter faded behind the closing doors.
Bea glanced at him. “You did that on purpose.”
His smirk was languid. He opened her car door with the calm certainty of someone who had just orchestrated something to unfold exactly as it should. “Obviously.”
“So, we’re…official?”
The back of his forefinger skimmed her jaw, his touch light. “Sweetheart,” he said, in a low, warm timbre, “that was sealed the second you kissed me back.”
Bea turned her head slightly, pretending to watch the city lights flash by, but really just watching Gage. His hands rested easily on the wheel, elegant fingers flexing and moving. It was the kind of thing that shouldn’t have been hot, but absolutely was.
Their months of back-and-forth, the pull and resistance, the tension and teasing had all led to this. This was happening.
She was officially with Gage King.
She was hopeful. But she also had a strong suspicion she was going to end up writing bad poetry about this later. Really bad poetry.
The silence stretched long enough that she wasn’t sure what to say next.
“So…” Her voice wobbled slightly before she caught it. “Where are we going? Waikiki?”
“You have an exam tomorrow,” he replied sensibly. “I’m taking you home.”
She tipped her head back against the seat. “You really shouldn’t have taken me to Bora Bora on our first date. You set the bar too high.”
He glanced at her, eyes sharp. “Do you think that was my best?” he asked.
Her fingers flexed against her knee. Maybe it was impulse. Or maybe she just wanted to see what he’d do. “I don’t know. Was it?”
There was the faintest lift at the corner of his mouth. The kind that made her feel like she’d just signed her own fate.
“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”
Her mouth was dry, but she didn’t dare lick her lips. “I was joking.”
“I wasn’t.”
She shifted slightly in her seat as they pulled into the carpark at Mayfield Hall. “So…you’re going to prove me wrong?”
“You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Heat flooded her chest, part thrill, part warning. She shouldn’t have liked that as much as she did. But she did. She really, totally did.
Bea had barely stepped inside before Georgina descended like a heat-seeking missile, phone in hand, eyes alight with uncontained glee.
“You.”
Bea stumbled backward, only saved by Gage’s steadying hand at her lower back. Georgina’s phone was already in her face, notifications exploding like fireworks.
R U SEEING THIS??
She’s with him. Like. WITH him.
He called her SWEETHEART IN PUBLIC.
Did he just claim her IN FRONT OF EVERYONE??
Someone confirm immediately.
OMG, did you see Rafael??
What did she SAY??
Bea groaned. “Are you serious?”
Georgina looked giddy. “I haven’t had this much entertainment since—actually, no. This is the most entertaining thing to ever happen to me.”
Bea shoved the phone away, but her lips twitched. “You people need hobbies.” She let out a dramatic breath and flopped onto the couch.
“Oh, we have hobbies,” Georgina singsonged, scrolling furiously. “And right now, the top one is you, Gage, and the absolute spectacle that just happened.” She shot an accusing look at her cousin. “You couldn’t have done it tomorrow? Then I could have been there.”
Bea almost laughed at the genuine outrage in Georgie’s voice. As if Gage should have taken into account her exam calendar as well before planting his flag in the middle of St. Ives.
Gage stood like the chaos didn’t touch him. The way only he could be while the female population of St. Ives lost its collective mind over him.
He pulled out his phone, tapped something, then finally turned his attention to Bea. “Get changed.”
Bea sat up. “Right now?”
Gage didn’t blink. Didn’t acknowledge the question at all. He just looked at her like the answer should have been obvious. “Something warm,” he added. “You’ll need it.”
Bea studied him for a moment, wondering if she should protest. Not that she wanted to. “You said I have an exam tomorrow.”
“And you suggested I’d peaked.” His brow raised briefly. “You’ll be back in time.” A pause. “Probably.”
Bea looked to Georgina, silently calling for reinforcement.
Georgina didn’t even try to school her grin. “Don’t look at me. He’s still my cousin.”
She didn’t exactly feel calm. But she wasn’t about to back down.
Bea stood.
Gage’s phone buzzed. Without a word, he slid it from his pocket, checked the screen, then turned and slipped out onto the balcony. His silhouette stretched against the glass as he lifted the phone to his ear.
“What did you do?” Georgina yipped.
Bea bit the inside of her cheek. “Well, I didn’t exactly mean it this way…but apparently I challenged the king.”
“Bold move.”
The city blurred past in streaks of light and shadow.
Bea watched, half mesmerized, half trying to piece together the route.
Gage didn’t volunteer it, and she didn’t ask.
Instrumental jazz spilled from the speakers, the kind that felt like whisky and rain.
The music mirrored the man, composed, polished, speaking without words.
Her musical preferences were less refined, heavily influenced by what had been available on her umma’s old iPod. Even now they collaborated on Spotify playlists that featured roughly four decades of R&B and pop.
But this music suited him.
She shifted slightly, smoothing a hand down the front of her dress, feeling the soft give of the knit fabric.
The long skirt skimmed past her calves, the structured warmth of her ivory coat draping over her shoulders.
Gage’s gaze had quietly assessed her from boots to neckline, telling her he thought she looked exactly as she should.
And then she saw it: the tallest building in the UR.
De Wacht Tower loomed over the skyline, its sleek, needle-like form stretching impossibly high, tapering into the sky as if it had been drawn by the hands of gods.
A marvel of engineering, the glistening glass-and-steel structure flared outward like the roots of an ancient tree before converging into a breathtakingly narrow spire.
At night, it was something else entirely—a monolith of light and shadow, its exterior pulsing with an almost celestial glow, reflecting the endless sprawl of the city below. The sheer height was disorienting, its tip so high it seemed to bend time and gravity, disappearing into the dark.
It wasn’t just a building. It was a statement. A monument to power, to control, to those who lived above the rest of the world, both literally and figuratively.
The car dipped smoothly into a private entrance. One with no signs, no visible access points. A place that existed outside the realm of addresses and directories, that belonged to people who didn’t need their names on lists.