Chapter 18
KATE
Astorm rolled in fast, mean, and loud enough to rattle the windows.
Wind howled between the neighboring buildings, bending rain sideways until it slammed into the glass in never-ending sheets.
Lightning cracked across the sky, turning the apartment a whitish blue for a split second before plunging it back into shadow.
I stood barefoot in my kitchen, my fingers curled around the granite countertop as I watched all hell break loose outside. I’d grown up in high-rises, but while Manhattan storms were dramatic, they were insulated by density and softened by the constant hum of a city that never truly slept.
Chicago was different. It felt more wide open, like my building was more exposed. The wind had room to build momentum before it attacked, making it feel like the storm was sitting directly on top of me.
It was almost ten, and after such a rough, emotional day, all I’d wanted was a glass of wine and the tub.
I hadn’t even cared which tub—bath or ice cream, or ice cream in the bath.
Now, however, I was stuck staring at the storm, wondering how worried I should be about the building and the shit show my life had become.
My mother had called me repeatedly this morning, refusing to give up until I’d finally answered, her voice already wobbling in panic before I’d even said hello.
“Katie, sweetheart. Please don’t shut us out,” she’d said, her words tumbling over each other. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be, but please don’t cut us off. I can’t stand the thought of that.”
I’d pressed my fingers into my temple, pacing my apartment while she spoke. I hadn’t yelled or cried. I’d just listened while she spiraled, apologizing without quite apologizing and justifying without fully committing to the defense.
But the thing was, as the days had crawled on, ever closer to sealing the deal on our marriage and a multi-billion-dollar acquisition, I’d started feeling more and more certain that this was the right thing to do. My rational brain understood it perfectly. To a T.
It was smart on Hinds’ end. He was a family friend and he wanted the business to stay with people he trusted. He wanted it tied to blood and to the kind of guarantee that contracts alone couldn’t secure.
My family didn’t have the financial leverage the Westwoods did, but together, we could more than swing it.
Dad knew Hinds’ financials like the back of his hand.
The Westwoods would need his expertise, and mine, to keep the company as strong and stable as it was now, but we didn’t have the money to do it all alone.
All day, I’d been going over the numbers and logistics, convincing myself I was doing the right thing while at the same time, weighing it against the sacrifice I was making.
Because even though no one knew this, I was sacrificing something. In fact, some people would even think I was sacrificing everything, because what I was sacrificing was love.
Real, solid love built on years of knowing someone. Years of stitching two lives together across time zones, deadlines, and expectations. On the other hand, there was Nate.
Nate, who never smiled at me.
Nate, who infuriated me so thoroughly sometimes that I wanted to scream—and had, face buried in a pillow like a teenager avoiding consequences.
But not entirely because I hated him.
And that was the problem.
I was attracted to him. Deeply. Viscerally.
That was the worst part of this entire nightmare. The way he moved, the controlled power in his shoulders, and the quiet intensity in his stare. The sharp cut of his jaw when he clenched his teeth like he was swallowing words he didn’t want to say.
While I would never, ever admit this out loud, sometimes, I was downright hungry at the sight of him and I couldn’t even blame myself.
Nate was an insanely attractive man—and he was all man given what I’d seen hiding beneath that towel and those sweats—and it’d been years since anyone had touched me. Since I’d touched someone else.
Literal, actual years.
All because I was loyal to a fault and for the last few years I’d poured every ounce of emotional energy into another man. Into something I believed was real, steady, and safe.
And now…
Lightning split the sky again, close enough that the thunder followed instantly, blue light exploding through the apartment. It flooded the room, turning every surface electric and unreal.
I screamed, the sound tearing out of me before I could stop it, startled and embarrassingly loud. Three heavy thuds slammed through the living room immediately after and my heart launched into my throat.
Another thud. Harder.
The building is collapsing.
That was my first thought, born of pure, irrational panic. The floor tilted under my bare feet as I spun toward the hallway. Every muscle locked as I braced myself for the sickening lurch of structural failure.
Another pounding rap rattled the front door in its frame, and suddenly, I realized I wasn’t in the middle of an urban disaster. The building wasn’t collapsing. Someone was just banging on my door like a prick.
My pulse didn’t slow. If anything, it spiked higher. I swallowed hard, forcing my legs to move as the storm roared like it was urging me not to open the door. The pounding came again, more urgent this time.
“Kate!” The muffled shout cut through the wind.
Nate. His voice was unmistakable even through two inches of reinforced steel and a thunderstorm determined to drown out everything else. “Kate, open the door!”
Another crack of thunder made the lights flicker once before they steadied again. Rain lashed against the windows behind me, wind screaming through the building’s upper levels like it was searching for a way inside.
I stared at the door, every nerve in my body pulled between relief, irritation, and, unfortunately, comfort. He knocked again.
“I know you’re in there,” he called, his voice closer to the restrained edge I’d started recognizing as his version of urgency.
I dragged a hand down my face, trying to smooth the chaos out of my expression even though he couldn’t see me yet. My heart hammered like it wanted to get out of my chest.
Of all nights. Of all moments.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the apartment, turning the storm into a violent silhouette across the glass. I exhaled slowly, braced myself, and reached for the door handle.
Nate stood on the other side, those blue eyes wild and his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. Rain dotted his shoulders and darkened the edges of his tight gray T-shirt, clinging to his muscles. He clearly hadn’t bothered changing after a workout.
His blond hair was damp and messily pushed back, his gym bag clenched in his fist like he planned on using it as a blunt weapon.
His gaze swept over me in one rapid pass from my face, to my shoulders, and down to my bare feet, before it lifted to the apartment behind me.
A moment later, his entire body visibly unlocked.
“You’re fine,” he said, his breath leaving him in a rush.
“I’m… yes?” I blinked up at him, still caught between shock and adrenaline.
He stepped inside without waiting for permission, scanning the apartment like he expected to find a masked intruder hiding behind my sofa. When nothing lunged out at him, he turned sharply toward me.
“What’s your deal?” he demanded. “Clearly, you’re not in here getting murdered, so what the hell was that scream?”
“The lightning,” I blurted.
He stopped, a frown flickering between his eyebrows before he slowly lifted one at me. “Lightning?”
“It caught me off guard,” I admitted, folding my arms across my chest like I could hold the embarrassment in. “I screamed, then you started pounding on the door, and I thought the building was collapsing, and—”
Now that they’d started, the words didn’t stop. They didn’t want to, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to make them.
“I just… do you really think this is a good idea?” I asked, panic spilling over into something raw. “This? Us? We hate each other, Nate. You loathe me. You’ve made that clear so many times.”
I desperately should’ve stopped babbling, but I found myself pointing at my own chest instead. “I’m the worst and I know it. I’ve always been hard-headed, and annoying, and loud, and argumentative. I get it. I’m not easy to deal with.”
My voice cracked. “And you have a girlfriend. So there’s that. You’re literally in love with someone who is not me and—”
“Stop.” The single word cut clean through me, finally breaking off my rambling thoughts and making them stop falling straight out of my mouth.
Nate held my gaze directly. Intently. “You have a boyfriend, Kate. It’s not just me being shoved into something I don’t want, but if we’re keeping score, you’re the one with the shorter end of the stick here.
You have to do this or your family’s firm could collapse. ”
I sniffed, wiping under my nose with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “It wouldn’t be that bad.”
He arched an eyebrow, slow and skeptical. “It wouldn’t?”
I huffed and turned away, stalking toward the living room before my face could give me away completely.
Dropping onto the couch, I folded in on myself and pulled my knees tight to my chest, my forehead pressing against them like I could disappear into a portal of my own making if I could just make myself small enough.
The storm howled against the windows, but I still heard the dull thump of his gym bag hitting the floor. A second later, the couch dipped beside me.
“I can leave,” he said quietly. “Or I can stay. It’s up to you.”
When I didn’t respond, he leaned back and stretched his long legs out ahead of him, and I didn’t argue when I realized he’d decided to stay. Being alone in this storm had been terrifying. I didn’t have to like Nate to feel safer with him here.
For a moment, neither of us spoke, but I still focused on the sound of the steady rise and fall of his breathing beside me. Somehow, it helped. I actually started to feel calmer, which was absurd but true.
With Nate here, it didn’t feel so much like the building was swaying or was about to just crumble to dust. I finally pulled in a deep breath and looked up at him, my temple still resting on my knee.
“This marriage doesn’t have to mean anything,” he said quietly. “You can keep seeing your boyfriend, Kate. In a couple of years, once the Hinds account is fully settled and running like a well-oiled machine, we can divorce. Until then, I have no expectations of you.”
My eyebrows shot up, but for a long minute, I was completely speechless. “Is that what you want?”
“No. I just want—” He exhaled sharply, cutting himself off before he raked a hand through his hair and spoke again. “I need you to trust me. Just a little. I’m not going to fuck you over. I’m not going to make you miserable if I can help it.”
He looked earnest, completely, terrifyingly sincere. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid under the damp fabric clinging to his chest, but his eyes were locked on mine with an intensity that made something inside me fracture into thin, sharp slices.
“I do trust you,” I whispered. Surprise flickered across his expression and eased some of the tension out of his features. “That’s the worst part of this. I feel sick that it’s happening to you, too. That you’re stuck in this position because of me. Because of my family.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and for a second, he looked almost vulnerable. Right now, he didn’t look like the immovable, frustratingly composed man who always argued with me. He looked like exactly what he was—trapped, human, and terrified.
“I liked it better when we hated each other,” I admitted, my voice small against the roar of the wind.
His mouth twitched in a half-smile as he nodded slowly. “Yeah, it was easier then.”
He leaned back and got comfortable, looking around the apartment like he’d never been in here before.
I realized that sitting beside him didn’t feel like standing on a battlefield right now.
It felt like standing in the uneasy calm between lightning strikes, knowing another one was coming but grateful for every breath in between.