Chapter 23 #2
The moment they stepped out, a uniformed attendant approached, nodding crisply before leading them toward an elevator hidden from public view.
The elevator doors slid shut. No buttons. No options. Just an inconspicuous biometric scanner that Gage barely glanced at before pressing his thumb to it.
Then they were moving. The numbers blurred past, higher than any building had the right to go.
60. 80. 100. 120.
The speed should have been dizzying, but Gage had stepped closer, his hand firmly around her waist. Bea leaned against him. Gage looked casual, his other hand tucked in his pocket like they weren’t ascending to Olympus.
160.
The doors opened. A gust of wind rushed past her, cool against her skin.
Bea stepped out and forgot how to breathe.
A glass haven at the city’s pinnacle unfolded before them.
Walls of crystal-clear glass stretched around them, so pristine they seemed to vanish into the skyline, erasing the boundary between earth and stars.
Overhead, nothing but open air—an endless sprawl of constellations scattered across the night.
A single table set perfectly at the center.
Steam curled up in delicate tendrils, carrying the scent of garlic and fresh chilis, warm and fragrant against the rooftop breeze.
Beyond it, a state-of-the-art observatory setup stood waiting. The telescope, massive and unmistakably advanced, was angled toward the clearest part of the night, as if it had been placed there just to bring the universe within reach.
Bea turned slowly, taking it all in. The exclusivity. The audacity. The way this had all been arranged sometime between her joke in the car and the time it took to change her clothes.
A slow warmth unfurled in her chest, spreading through her limbs like the weight of realization settling into place.
“Gage,” she breathed. “You’ve done this to me twice now.”
He let the pause stretch, just enough to make her feel it. “I didn’t set the bar too high with Bora,” he said. “This isn’t about the bar. This is who I am.”
Bea swallowed.
He wasn’t just showing her something extravagant. He was showing her himself. The way he moved between worlds—the one everyone else lived in, and the one above it. The one where the gods dwelled.
And for the first time, she understood. He didn’t just belong there. He could take her there, too.
“I can do this. I can do more than this.” His eyes, bottomless blue, locked on hers. “But it’s not about the spectacle. It’s about the outcome.”
“And what outcome is that?”
“Today was the first step.”
“And the next?”
His expression didn’t shift. “I want you to be happy with me.”
The wind stirred between them. Her gaze softened. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”
“Good.”
It wasn’t until they moved to the table that she saw their dinner.
A simmering Korean hot pot, its broth bubbling with thinly sliced beef, enoki mushrooms, and bright ribbons of napa cabbage.
A thermos pot of rice. Small dishes of kimchi, pickled radish, and sesame spinach.
A tall jug of barley tea and a bottle of green grape soju.
The setup made them self-sufficient, no waiters, no interruptions, just the slow rhythm of cooking and eating, entirely their own. They ate under the vast, endless night, the quiet hum of the city far below them, distant and irrelevant.
Their conversation moved effortlessly, slipping between teasing remarks, sharp-witted banter, and the occasional silence that didn’t feel empty.
Gage spooned some more broth into Bea’s bowl, passing it to her.
He looked relaxed, the planes of his face less austere.
Like he wasn’t just orchestrating the night, but enjoying it, too.
Because she was. And for all his maneuvering, the one thing he couldn’t fully control was her response.
He didn’t need to. She was exactly where she wanted to be.
Bea tilted her head back. The stars stretched in breathtaking clarity.
Gage gestured toward the telescope. “Come.”
She followed him, leaning into the eyepiece. And just as she did, Gage stepped behind her. His palm slid from around her waist, and rested lightly over her navel. The heat of his hand soaked through her dress, pooling low and heavy between her hips.
“What do you see?” He murmured, his breath warm against her skin. She blinked into the lens, trying to focus. Stars stretched out in patterns she couldn’t recognize. But it was hard to notice anything beyond the feeling of being enveloped by Gage’s nearness.
“Not much,” she admitted shakily.
“Still? This isn’t your average stargazing equipment.”
“Well, I’m a bit…distracted.”
His fingertips pressed on her stomach. The slightest pressure. She felt it like a command, and spun.
Gage stood waiting. His fingers scoped along her jaw, tilting her face up just so. His mouth descended. Covered hers.
Need vibrated through her, fierce and sweet and a little overwhelming, making her knees weaken before his hand coasted around, steadying her at the waist. It felt like he’d opened up something inside her, something raw and unguarded.
The rooftop, the sky, the stars—everything blurred into nothing. There was only him.