Chapter 5 #2
Something flickers in Vincent's expression. He's heard the rumors, which I’ve just verified. Now he knows what I'm capable of.
"The Hollow Club won't forget this," he says.
"Good. Make sure they remember it next time they think about sending you."
“I could have shot you right where you stand,” he scoffs.
“Yeah, but you didn’t.”
Vincent straightens his suit, nods to his men. They back toward the door, hands visible, no sudden moves. At the threshold, Vincent pauses. "She's not worth dying for, Delano. Think about that before you burn more bridges. You have to live here.”
"I've already thought about it. Get out."
They leave. The door closes. Silence rushes in. I turn to find Peyton standing exactly where I left her. Her eyes are wide, and she’s breathing fast, looking at me like she's seeing me for the first time.
"Marcus," I say without looking away from her. "Lock the front. Don't let anyone else in."
"You got it, boss."
His footsteps fade. The lock clicks. We're alone in the dim morning light filtering through windows that have seen too much and never tell.
"Blake—"
I'm moving before I think, before I can stop myself, crossing the distance between us and backing her into the hallway where the shadows are thicker.
"Do you understand what just happened?" My voice comes out rough, barely controlled. "That was a kidnapping attempt. Another one. It was dressed up in suits and business proposals, but that's what it was. They were going to take you."
"I know.”
"And you just stood there. You didn't run. You didn't hide. You didn’t listen. You challenged him."
"I wasn't going to let you deal with my mess on your own.”
"You could have died." I'm crowding her now, hands on either side of her head, caging her against the wall. Not threatening. Protecting. Claiming. "If Marcus hadn't been here, or if I’d been in another room—"
"But you were here." Her voice is quiet, steady. Her hands come up, rest against my chest. I feel the touch like electricity. "You protected me. Again."
"That's my job."
"Is that all I am?” She tilts her head back and meets my eyes directly. "A job?"
I should lie. I’ve been trained for this. I know that I should put distance between us before I do something we can't take back.
But I'm done lying.
"No," I say roughly. "It stopped being just a job the second you walked onto that terrace in that fucking dress and looked at me like I was worth something."
Her eyes moisten. “Blake—"
"I can't keep doing this." The words tear out of me. “I can't keep pretending like I don't want you, and I won’t keep walking away when every instinct in me says to claim you, protect you, keep you so close nothing can touch you."
"Then don't." One of her hands fists my shirt while she lays the other softly against the side of my face. "Don't walk away. Don't pretend. I'm right here, Blake. I'm choosing this. Choosing you."
"You don't know what you're choosing."
"I know exactly what I'm choosing." She pulls me closer, eliminating the last inches between us. "I'm choosing the man who burned a warehouse to save girls he didn't know. Who walked away from his family rather than compromise his soul. Who looks at me like I'm poisonous but wants me anyway."
"You’re not poisonous, but you’re definitely dangerous."
"Good." Her voice drops and goes husky. "So are you. Maybe that's why this works."
I'm losing the battle. I can feel my control slipping, my carefully maintained distance crumbling. And if my dick gets a vote, he’s basically saying we lost the game before he even got to get up to bat.
"Peyton." My voice is a warning. "If I kiss you, then we will have crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed.”
“Cross it already.”
That's all the permission I need.
I kiss her like I'm drowning and she's air. It’s hard, hungry, claiming. My hand wraps around her ponytail, angling her head back, taking her mouth the way I've wanted to since she smiled at me on that terrace.
She tastes like coffee and something sweeter, like defiance or desire. Her hands are everywhere, exploring, demanding, giving as good as she gets.
This isn't gentle. Isn't careful. I don’t even understand how I could want a woman I’ve just met like this, but stranger things have happened, and I’m sick of following rules that Nonno made for this family back when there was no internet and a carton of eggs was fifty cents.
I press Peyton harder against the wall, needing her closer, needing to feel every curve, every breath, every sound she makes when I bite her bottom lip and she gasps against my mouth.
I slide my hand behind her and squeeze her jean-clad ass, then carefully slide my fingers lower and in between her thighs.
"Blake." My name on her lips sounds like prayer and profanity.
I press the seam of her jeans against her pussy and pull back just enough to see her face—lips swollen, eyes dark, chest heaving. I could get addicted to making her feel good. She's beautiful, fierce, and she’s fucking mine. The thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels inevitable.
"This complicates everything," I say against her mouth.
"I don't care."
"Silas will use it against us."
“I don’t care.”
“That’s your wet pussy talking,” I growl.
“No, it isn’t.” She frames my face with her hands, forces me to look at her.
"Stop trying to protect me from this. From us.
I'm not fragile. I'm not stupid. And I’m not one of the girls from the warehouse.
I'm not going to regret this just because it's complicated or dangerous or inconvenient. And frankly, I’m sick of discussing it.”
“You are, huh?” I can’t help but chuckle.
“Absolutely sick and tired of this debate. Aren’t you?” She kisses me this time, and it’s softer and slower. It feels more intimate. "So either you're all in, or you walk away now. But you don't get to touch me like that and then pretend like we made a mistake because it doesn’t feel like one.”
She's right. She's absolutely right. Fuck it. I’m all in. I probably have been since the moment I stepped between her and Domenic. Maybe even before that.
I kiss her again, quick and hard. “We do this my way. Which means you follow my lead when it comes to safety. You don't take unnecessary risks. You don't challenge armed men when I tell you to run."
"I'm not good at following orders."
"I've noticed, but we'll work on it. Those are some of my favorite lessons to teach.”
"Blake Delano." She smiles against my mouth. "Are you trying to seduce me?”
"I'm trying to keep you alive long enough to see you claim that inheritance and destroy everyone who ever underestimated you."
"And after that?"
"After that, we'll figure out what’s next…together."
The word together feels foreign, dangerous.
I've been alone for so long that partnership sounds like a weakness.
But standing here with Peyton in my arms, her heartbeat racing against my chest, I think maybe it's the opposite. Maybe together is the only way either of us survives this because I’ve never felt more alive.
"We need to go," I say reluctantly. "The appointment's in an hour, and we need to get these documents first."
"Right. Documents. DNA verification. Saving my life." She straightens her sweater, tries to fix her hair. “Those are very important, very urgent things that we should definitely focus on instead of doing this."
She’s taking this way too casually.
"Peyton."
"I know, I know. Survival first, feeling me up in hallways second." She grins. "But for the record? Totally worth it."
Yeah. It was.
I lead her to my office, unlock the safe where I've kept the additional files Talia gave me. Peyton takes them with reverent hands, like she's holding pieces of her mother.
"She probably was looking for this," she says quietly. "For proof. For power. For everything they took from her."
"And now you're going to finish what she started."
We leave through the back entrance. The morning's gotten colder, snow starting to fall again in lazy spirals.
My phone buzzes. It’s Talia.
Talia: Silas knows you have her. Nico's been ordered to bring you both in. Be careful.
I show Peyton the message.
"So it begins," she says.
"It began the moment you walked into that gala." I open the car door for her. "Now we just finish it."
She slides into the passenger seat, files clutched to her chest, lips still swollen from my kiss.
I get behind the wheel, pull into traffic. In the rearview mirror, I see a black SUV two cars back. They’re following us, and they’re not being subtle about it. It may be Silas's men or the Hollow Club's. Maybe both.
But it doesn't matter.
If they want her, they'll have to go through me, and I've already proven I'm willing to burn the world for less. I reach over, take her hand. She threads her fingers through mine.
We’ve now made a promise neither of us can afford to break. But we make it anyway. Because I'm done pretending I don't care.
I'm all in.
And when a man like me makes a commitment, I sure as hell am going to see it through.
“Hold on, Peyton. This ride’s about to get bumpy.”