Chapter Ten
Dawn
The warmth is the first thing I notice.
Not the late morning sunlight filtering in through the gauzy curtains. Not the distant sound of waves outside. Not even the faint ache in my limbs—a reminder of how we spent the entire rest of the day tuning into each other’s bodies, a long and vulnerable display of need and desperation.
It’s him.
Nikolai’s body radiates heat beside me, solid and immovable. His breathing is deep, steady. He’s still asleep.
I barely move, afraid to disturb the rare stillness of the moment. This is different. I expected to wake up alone, to find him already dressed and working, back to his untouchable self. But he’s here.
The sheet sits low on his waist, the defined ridges of his abdomen visible in the soft light. His face is relaxed, free of the sharp, unreadable edges I’ve come to know. The powerful man who commands rooms and dominates conversations is just a man right now.
My chest tightens.
Mine.
The thought comes out of nowhere, sneaking in before I can stop it. As if someone like Nikolai Blackthorn could belong to anyone. As if he could belong to me.
I turn my head, burying my face in the pillow to hide the ridiculous smile creeping onto my lips. It’s reckless, the way I feel for him. I should be thinking about the lines we just blurred, about what this means for my job, my future. Instead, I just want to stay in this bed a little longer.
A shift. A low, gravelly hum.
I still my breath as Nikolai stirs beside me. He shifts over onto his side, a heavy arm draping over my waist, pulling me against his bare chest.
A sleepy, satisfied noise rumbles from him. Then, his lips brush against the top of my head, his voice husky with sleep. “Good morning, angel.”
I don’t know what I expected when Nikolai pulled himself out of bed, but it wasn’t this. He’s calm. Unhurried. Soft.
There was no rush to get rid of me, no sudden shift back to the cold, untouchable man I met on my first day at Blackthorn. Instead, he pulled me into the shower with him—not for anything more, just to wash me, to press slow kisses to my shoulder before wrapping me in a towel.
He dressed me in one of his clean t-shirts and a pair of his joggers, even though they swallow me whole entirely.
And now, as I sit in his sleek, black car, watching the road blur past, I still don’t know what to make of it.
My fingers twist in my lap. I sneak a glance at him. Nikolai looks so effortlessly put together.
He's wearing a crisp black button-down with the sleeves casually rolled up, the top button undone. The stark contrast between that and his relaxed, sweatpants-wearing self from yesterday makes something flutter deep in my stomach.
I shift slightly in my seat. “So…” I start, hesitant.
Nikolai’s lips curl, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “So?”
I chew my lip. “Are we going to… talk about it?”
Now, he glances at me. And there it is—that unreadable, knowing smirk. “I’m not sure what needs to be said.”
I exhale, exasperated. Typical. “Are you always this difficult?”
He hums, as if considering. Then, his hand moves. Slow, deliberate. Fingers trailing along my thigh—just once, a featherlight graze that makes my pulse spike. “Only when it’s fun.” He murmurs, before pulling his hand back to himself.
The warmth of his touch leaves my skin tingling, but something about reentering the real world makes me uneasy.
What happens now? Is he going to pretend like this didn’t happen? Like I didn’t come apart beneath him, moaning his name? Like he didn’t break me down and piece me back together with his hands, his mouth, his body?
I sneak a glance at him. His profile is unreadable, his focus on the road. I don’t know what I expect—some kind of shift? Regret?
But he seems… calm. And that makes me more nervous than anything.
I tuck my hands between my thighs, my voice smaller than I intend when I ask, “Where are we going?”
His eyes flick to me, dark and unreadable. Then back to the road. “I have a few things to do at the office today, but I won’t require your assistance, so I’m taking you home.”
Home.
That one word twists something into my chest. He’s taking me back to my apartment, like nothing has changed.
Maybe nothing has changed.
Maybe I’m overthinking.
The car slows to a stop in front of my building.
This is it.
I hesitate, glancing at Nikolai. His grip rests lazily on the wheel, gaze cool and casual.
“Well,” I murmur. “This is me.”
He nods, that little smirk beginning on his face. “I’ll see you Monday.”
That’s it? No kiss goodbye? No lingering moment? Just back to business?
I grip my bag, fighting the stupid sting in my chest. I push open the car door, stepping into the humid noon air.
Cassidy’s words echo in my mind.
That man has never had a relationship last longer than a headline.
I watch as the car pulls away, exhaling with uncertainty.
I push open my front door, stepping inside—then stop dead in my tracks.
What. The. Hell.
My apartment doesn’t look the same. The bare space I’d left behind yesterday is gone.
My lumpy old couch? Replaced. A plush, expensive looking sectional now sits in its place, off white with a beautiful dark wood, resting on a thin black rug expanding across the middle of my floor.
A matching coffee table, and a small dining table with two chairs are positioned like they’ve always belonged.
A new flat screen hangs on the wall facing my couch, shiny and ready to be used.
I step further inside, my pulse kicking up.
Even my bedroom door is cracked open, revealing new furniture inside. A dresser made from the same dark wood now stands beneath my window. The bed is huge, beautiful, with expensive sheets tucked in perfectly. An incredibly soft, white, faux-fur rug lays in the center of the floor.
I whirl back toward the living room.
This was him. The realization hits me all at once. Nikolai did this. While I was at the beach house, he had people come in and furnish my apartment.
I drop my bag onto the new couch, my fingers twitching as I pull out my phone and fire off a text.
Me: Was this you?
A response comes almost instantly.
Nikolai: You weren’t going to do it yourself.
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. My phone buzzes again.
Nikolai: I need my assistant to be comfortable.
I blink. His assistant. Is that all? I gather myself before switching apps.
Time to order some food.
I scroll through delivery options, landing on something simple, and for the first time since receiving it, I use Nikolai’s card.
After working for him for two weeks, and after yesterday, I don’t feel bad about letting him buy my lunch today.
While I wait for the order to process, I hover my thumb over my brother’s name in my phone.
He and I have sent a few texts back and forth the last couple of weeks. Nothing important. A meme here or there. Suggestions from him on good restaurants nearby.
Screw it.
I hit call.
The line rings once. Twice. Then, a click.
“Dawn?” Luke’s voice comes through quieter than I expect.
I shift the phone in my grip. “Yeah. Hey.”
“Hey.” A pause. I hear the sound of shuffling papers, the faint hum of background noise—wherever he is, he’s working. He always is. “What’s up?”
I glance at the ceiling, exhaling slowly. “Just figured it was a good time to chat.”
Luke clears his throat. “How are you?”
“Surviving,” I pause. “You?”
Luke sighs, but I can hear him smiling. “Barely. Feels like I blink and three days pass.”
“That bad?”
“Worse.” He groans. “I swear I don’t even know what sleep is anymore.”
“You should fix that.” I joke.
“That’s what my staff keeps telling me.” A beat of silence. Then, lighter. “How’s the job?”
I exhale. “Same as before.”
“So, you’re drowning in corporate bullshit?”
“Pretty much.”
“Figured.” A short chuckle. “They working you too hard?”
I hum. “Define ‘too hard’.”
“If the answer is more than five minutes a day, then yes.”
I laugh. “Then yeah, I guess so.”
“Told you. That’s what happens when you sell your soul.” His tone is light and amused, but I know how he feels about my job. My boss.
“I didn’t sell my soul.” I say pointedly. “I leased it.”
“Right. Because that’s better.” He laughs.
I shake my head. “Anyway,” I start, shifting focus. “What’s the latest scandal?”
He groans. “Let’s see… last week, I was accused of secretly being married to my campaign manager.”
I blink. “Are you?”
“If I am, she’s been really quiet about it.”
I laugh, and this time, it feels real. Easy.
Another silence stretches between us, but it isn’t uncomfortable.
Finally, he clears his throat. “Alright, so when are we going out for dinner? We have to catch up.”
I snort. “You buying?”
“Well, yeah. I’m running for office. Can’t be seen making my little sister pay for my meal. Bad optics.”
I shake my head, but my smile lingers. “You pick the place. We’ll figure it out.”
“Deal.”
We both let out a small laugh, and I’m feeling a little better already.
“Listen, Dawn, my assistant, Andrea, is signaling that she needs my attention. I have to let you go. Talk later?”
“Yeah, sounds good. Bye, Luke.”
“Bye, Dawnie.”
The line goes dead.
I lower the phone, but my fingers hesitate over the screen. My food will be here any minute, but the unease clings to my skin.
Then, it happens.
A flicker. A distortion.
The screen glitches, but everything looks normal. No weird messages, no missed calls. Nothing.
I exhale sharply and shake my head. I’m just on edge. That’s all.
A knock at the door. My food.
. . .
The TV flickers in the dim apartment, casting a soft glow as I flip through different shows, but nothing holds my attention. My thoughts keep drifting—back to yesterday. The press of Nikolai's hands, the weight of his body, the way he said my name like it belonged to him.
And yet, I haven’t heard from him all day.
The realization settles heavy in my chest, unwelcome and sharp. Maybe it meant nothing to him. Maybe I was just another plaything in the world of Nikolai Blackthorn, a name to be forgotten the second he got what he wanted.
I exhale sharply, tossing the remote aside. I need to get out of here.
Pulling my phone from the couch, I shoot off a text.
Me: Hey, Roscoe’s at 8? Haven’t seen you in forever.
Cassidy responds almost instantly.
Cassidy: Yes! I was about to report you missing.
Me: Dramatic much?
Cassidy: Don’t test me. See you soon.
A small smile tugs at my lips. It really has been too long.
Pushing off the couch, I head to my bedroom, flicking on the closet light. The new wardrobe Nikolai stocked is neatly arranged, every item tailored to me.
My fingers skim over hung fabric before settling on something bolder. If I’m just another girl in his rotation, then fine. But tonight, I’ll be unforgettable, even if he won’t be there to see it.
I pull out a black leather skirt, fishnets, and a delicate lace corset top, all things I had picked out for myself during the shopping trip with Eleanor. Pairing them with black stilettos and the silver bracelet, I slip into the outfit, adjusting the way the corset hugs my curves.
Stepping into the bathroom, I line my eyes with sharp black liner, swipe on mascara, and paint my lips in a deep red.
I grab my purse and head for the door.