Chapter 41 The Fixer #2
“You look like you went three rounds with a meat grinder. Clean up before you scare the civilians... and next time leave the fighting to me or you'll ruin that pretty face.” He grins. Teeth showing like a tiger eyeing food.
“Fuck off. You're just annoyed that Viv smiled at me earlier.”
He narrows his eyes. “She didn't.”
Ethan pats him on the shoulder. “Come on, man. He's winding you up. Of course she didn't.” He looks at me, mouths silently, Shut up.
I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror. Blood spatter on my shirt. Bruise forming on my jaw.
“Logan will throw a fit.”
The bathroom in my office is cold.
I strip off the ruined shirt, run water until the mirror fogs with steam. Every movement hurts. Ribs. Shoulder. Ankle, worst of all. I shouldn't have put this much weight on it. Shouldn't have thrown myself into a fight when I can barely walk.
But what should I have done? Someone targeted Emma. Someone used her trauma against her. I'm supposed to sit on the sidelines and heal like a good boy? Fuck that.
I splash water on my face, watch the pink swirl down the drain.
The face in the mirror looks like a stranger. Hollow eyes. Tight jaw. A man running on rage and fear and not much else.
My mother wants me neutralized. My father has a new son on the way. The family I tried to escape followed me into the life I built. Poisoning everything it touches.
And Emma. Beautiful, fierce Emma, who deserves so much better than this mess.
I should let her go. Push her away for her own safety. The noble thing to do.
But I'm not noble. I'm selfish and desperate and so in love with her that the thought of walking away makes me want to put my fist through this mirror.
I pull on a clean shirt, button it with shaking fingers. Compose myself as best I can.
My phone buzzes.
George: Miss Sinclair is on her way up.
My stomach drops.
This is it. She's coming to end things. Face to face. That's the type of woman she is. She won't break up over text.
I'm not ready, but I force myself into the hallway. I'll take this standing.
The elevator doors open.
Emma steps out. Our eyes meet across the lobby. I can't read her expression.
She runs to me, crashes into me, arms around my neck.
I lift her without thinking. Ankle screams. I don't care.
Ribs protest. I ignore them. Nothing matters except her body pressed against mine, her hands in my hair, her mouth finding mine in a kiss that tastes like desperation and relief and something that might be forgiveness.
Someone whoops. Logan, probably. Someone else claps.
She hides her face in my neck. “Sorry, I'm making a spectacle,” she mumbles, breath warm against my skin.
I couldn't care less, but I need her alone. I lower her carefully, grab her hand, guide her to my office. Lock the door.
We're both breathing hard. She's still holding onto me like I might disappear if she lets go.
Her hand comes up to my face, touches the bruise on my jaw. She frowns.
“What happened?”
“Long morning.”
“Kai.”
“I'll tell you everything. I promise. But first...” I trail off. I don't know what I'm asking for.
“I love you,” she says.
I freeze.
“I love you.” She says it again, like she knows I need to hear it twice. “You. Not the name. Not the money. Not any of it. Just you.”
The words sound too good to be real. I expected her to end us. Was bracing for the blow, rehearsing how I'd let her go with dignity even as it destroyed me.
Now she's standing here, saying the one thing I never let myself hope for.
My hands are shaking. When did that start?
“Emma...” She starts pacing. Nervous energy. “Please, let me explain.” She glances at me, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Your mother came to see me today.”
I clench my fists. “What?”
“She offered me five hundred thousand dollars to disappear from your life. Threatened my career when I refused.” Her eyes flash with something fierce.
I take a step toward her. “You refused.”
She flips her hair away from her flushed cheeks. “I told her to get out. That I love her son and she can't buy that or control it.”
My heart feels too big for my chest. “You love me.”
Her lips tremble into a shy smile. “You keep repeating my words. Are you okay? Did you hit your head earlier?”
I close the distance between us in two steps, cup her face in my hands. She's so beautiful it hurts. This woman stood up to Helena Hammond and walked out with her spine intact. Ran across my lobby like I was something worth running toward.
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you, Kai.” Her voice catches. “I love you, and I'm terrified, and I don't know how this is going to work with your family trying to destroy us, but I don't care. I'd rather have you and the chaos than be safe and without you.”
I rest my forehead against hers. Breathe her in. Chest so full it aches.
“I don't deserve you.”
“But you got me.” She laughs, watery and soft. “You're stuck with me now.”
“Emma.” I pull back enough to look into her eyes.
“I need you to understand something. I am not my family.
I've spent years trying to prove that, but it's never been more true than it is right now.
Whatever they've done, whatever blood is on the Hammond name, that's not me. That's not who I choose to be.”
“I know.”
“I can't change where I came from. I can't undo the damage they've caused. But I can promise you this.” I take her hands, press them against my chest so she can feel my heart pounding.
“I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret choosing me. Every single day, I will prove that you made the right call. I will love you so completely that everything else becomes a footnote. Something I used to be, before I became yours.”
Tears spill down her cheeks. She doesn't wipe them away.
“That's a big promise.”
“I don't make small ones.” I brush a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “You're it for me, baby. The beginning and the end. I didn't know what I was looking for until I stumbled into that museum and you offered me a ticket.”
She chokes out a laugh. “You were so suspicious.”
“It was the beginning of you giving me things I didn't know I wanted.”
“I should thank Zoe for not showing up that evening.”
I kiss her. Tentative at first. Soft. Slow. Licking the corner of her lips until she opens for me. The kind of kiss that isn't about heat or hunger but about something deeper. A seal on a promise. A beginning.
When we break apart, she's smiling through her tears.
“So what now?” she asks.
“Now I tell you about my long morning, if you want. Then we figure out how to move forward together.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Whatever happens next, we face it as a team.
No more secrets. No more protecting you by keeping you in the dark.
You're in this with me. You get it all. The ugly parts too.”
She nods. “I can handle it.”
“I know you can.” I take her hand, lead her to the couch by the window. The city sprawls below us, indifferent to the war being waged in its towers and boardrooms. “That's one of the reasons I love you.”
We sit. She curls into my side like she belongs there.
Because she does.
“Start from the beginning,” she says. “Tell me everything.”
So I do.