Chapter 54
Chapter fifty-four
Olivia
“War.” I giggle, an actual girlish giggle I don’t even recognize as mine as he trails kisses up my neck. “We haven’t been in the air five minutes.”
“Then that’s four minutes too long,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against my skin. “I’ve waited months to have you like this again.”
His hand slides to my thigh, gripping with quiet possession. “You’re not walking off this plane without feeling me still inside you.”
My breath hitches. “Plane bathrooms aren’t exactly—”
“We’re not going to the bathroom This is my plane.” He tilts my chin, eyes blazing. “Get on my lap, Olivia. Now.”
I should say no.
I should remind him that the flight attendant is probably just behind the curtain.
I should breathe.
But instead—I move.
I slide into his lap, my hands trembling, heart full. And the world fades around us, until it’s just him and me and everything we’ve survived to be here again.
***
The car glides away from the hangar, the sky dipped in honey gold as the sun begins its descent. I’m tucked beside War in the back seat, his hand resting on my thigh like it belongs there.
My phone buzzes.
Ella
Sorry I didn’t say bye. I wasn’t feeling well.
I glance at War before typing back.
Yeah. Logan said you were sick. I hope you’re okay.
Ella
I think I caught a cold. I’ll rest. Love you.
I stare at the screen too long. Something about her words are too neat. Too distant.
War brushes his knuckles along my jaw. “You okay?”
I sigh. “Yeah, I just…” I hesitate. “I feel like Ella’s hiding something.”
He leans in, presses a kiss to my temple. Warm. Steady.
“She’ll come around,” he murmurs. “You’ve been friends too long not to figure it out. Call her later.”
I nod, though the unease lingers, a quiet thrum beneath my ribs.
The car pulls up to the front of the building. War’s hand doesn’t leave me as we step out, the driver tipping his head before disappearing behind the wheel.
We ride the elevator up in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of quiet that feels full—shared, lived-in.
When the doors slide open, I step into the penthouse.
The familiar scent of cedar and citrus. The clean lines. The sweeping view.
I didn’t think this place would ever feel like home.
But standing here now—my suitcase in one hand, War’s warmth at my back, it does.
He takes my bag without asking, hauling both into the bedroom like they’re nothing. I trail behind him, heart tugging as I watch the quiet strength in his shoulders.
I’ve been gone for months. How did I survive it?
A whole month without this man, this place, this feeling.
Then it hits me, sharp and inconvenient.
“Oh no,” I blurt. “I quit my job.”
He glances over his shoulder, amused. “You just remembered that now?”
“I had a lot on my mind,” I groan.
His smirk is maddening and sweet. “I’ll rehire you. But we’re renegotiating salary. You’ve made yourself… irreplaceable.”
I drop onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. “I’m sorry. I’ll apologize for the rest of our lives if I have to.”
He pauses, that smile softening into something real. “I like that. The rest of our lives.”
My breath catches. I sit up straighter, nerves twisting inside me, suddenly too aware of how much I want that to be true.
“How were things without me?” I ask. Quiet. Scared of the answer.
He doesn’t meet my eyes as he tosses our clothes into the hamper and tucks the suitcases away.
Just says one word:
“Dark.”
And it cracks something wide open in my chest.
I force a smile, swallowing the burning lump in my throat. “How’s the Parker Building? The renovation must be finished by now.”
He stills.
His hands freeze mid-motion, fingers curling into his palms.
“We can talk about work later,” he says with practiced casualness that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You must be starving. Should we order from La Serenata? Those garlic prawns you love?”
I frown. “No. I want to know about the Parker Building. What’s going on?”
He exhales slowly, then walks over and sinks into the mattress beside me, the bed dipping under his weight. “The Amatos owned Baker’s Inn. They wanted a trade. I gave them one.”
My heart stops. “No,” I whisper. “War… tell me you didn’t.”
His voice is steady, but his eyes are full of something raw. “The Parker Building wasn’t worth more than your freedom. Your peace. I’d trade every brick of it again.”
I stand, stunned. He gave it up.
“You built that from the ground up,” I whisper. “For Noah. You breathed life back into it. That building is part of you.”
“And so are you,” he says gently, rising with me. “What matters more?”
I blink through the sting in my eyes. My throat tight. “They’ll ruin it.”
“Maybe,” he admits. “But they won’t ruin you. Or your family. And that’s all I care about.”
I wrap my arms tight around his neck, burying my face in his chest. “I’m so sorry,“ I whisper. “I hate that you had to choose.”
“I didn’t have to. I wanted to,” he murmurs. “That building was never going to love me back. You do.”
His words hit bone-deep.
I pull back just enough to look at him.
Frown firmly placed.
“What do the Amatos even need it for?”
He chuckles, amused by my frown. His thumb brushes gently over my pout.
“They gave it to Maksim Korsakov. He’s been gunning for it since I got it. Now he has it…”
His gaze softens.
“And I have you. I win.”
He smiles, but his eyes are sad.
“Okay,” I breathe, my mind already made up as my lips brush against his skin. “But we are never buying from La Serenata again. Those bastards don’t deserve our money.”
War chuckles, the vibration rumbling through his chest and into mine, his breath warm as it stirs my hair.
“Our money? Calling them bastards?” He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “My, my, Olivia Lynn. You are spending far too much time with me.”
I laugh softly.
“And I’ll spend every second of my life with you.”
And I will.
I vow it to myself, silent and fierce.
We’ll get the Parker Building back someday.
Noah’s legacy. War’s sacrifice.
I don’t know how yet. But I’ll fix it.
For the man who has given me more than I could have ever imagined and asks for nothing in return, but love.
It’s my turn to do something grand. For us. For love.
For him