39. Michael
Michael
I used to know what control felt like. The pulse of it, steady and sure, pumping through every decision I made. But now it was just chaos wrapped in a tailored suit.
I stood at the window of my penthouse office at the top of the casino, the glass cool against my fingers. The harbor was less frozen but still gray, and the clouds looked like smoke from a warzone. Somewhere out there, across the water and past the river bend, was Kate.
And I couldn’t touch her. Not anymore.
Brett thought I was blind. That I didn’t know what he was doing on those quiet nights he disappeared without a word. But I knew. I let him go. Because if he wanted to protect her, good. Someone had to. My hands were tied.
The Council was breathing down my neck harder than ever. Redmond’s demands were getting more extreme. A wedding wasn’t enough. Now he wanted a child—my child—with Krystal. Something to tie my empire to his bloodline. They wanted my legacy... and my leash.
But I wasn’t stupid.
I had eyes in Newport. I knew Drew and Remi had stepped in. That Kate was moving forward. The campus she stole from under me was now ringed in electric wire and armed guards. A fortress. She’d partnered with the enemy. My enemy.
And still, every night, I dreamed of her.
She haunted me. Not just the woman—but the way she laughed. The way her hair smelled after the rain. The way she snuggled closer in bed, stealing the covers and murmuring nonsense half asleep. The way she once looked at me like I wasn’t a monster. Like I was hers.
And I had been.
The music school—her music school—was becoming a reality. Architects. Scholarships. International recruitment. Dorms. Teachers. Programs for students who couldn’t afford dreams without someone like her opening the door.
I should have hated her.
But I didn’t. I missed her so bad it clawed at my ribs.
I still had her ring tucked in my top drawer. Along with her letter. I hadn’t shown it to anyone. Not even Brett. It was my private wound. A reminder of what she tried to give me: freedom.
I just couldn’t take it.
Not then.
Now, I didn’t know if I’d ever get another chance.
Krystal played her part. Smiled for the cameras. Wore my ring like it was tattooed on her soul. But I hadn’t touched her. I couldn’t. My bed stayed cold. My heart colder.
And still, I wondered every night...
If Kate ever missed me back.
The morning sun broke through in slants of pale winter light, casting long shadows across my new suite—the one that used to be the security operations room. I had it gutted, stripped to the bones and rebuilt with floor-to-ceiling windows facing east.
Facing her empty condo.
The penthouse Krystal had trashed I turned into my new office with views of the old campus beyond the river… I saw the transformation in real time. From empty buildings hidden by the trees to the bright yellow bulldozers… to the beginning of her dream.
I didn’t need the binoculars this time. I could already see the flash of golden fur tearing through the mud like a comet. Amber. Loyal, reckless, always right behind her.
And then—there she was.
Blonde hair pulled back into a low, messy braid, strands coming loose in the wind.
She wore scuffed work boots, jeans that hugged her curves under a bulky tool belt, and a neon yellow construction vest over a thermal shirt.
And on her head… a damn hardhat. Bright white, with a little pink sticker that said “Boss Lady.”
I reached for the binoculars anyway.
Gertie was beside her, handing off coffee to someone who looked like an architect.
Blueprints flapped in the wind, and they pinned them down with rocks, crouched low in the gravel, heads together.
They pointed, debated. I knew that look in Kate’s eyes—intensity, fire. She was building something real.
The pang in my chest was sharp. Regret twisted in my gut like a knife made of ice.
That land… it was hers all along.
I would have helped her. I swear to God, I would’ve burned every penny of the council’s dirty money and paved that land with gold if she’d just told me what it meant to her. If we’d been on the same side from the start. If we hadn’t both been so damn stubborn. So afraid.
I let the binoculars drop to the desk. This part of the land was right across from my glass towered casino hotel. I could swim across the channel if it weren’t freezing.
Her silhouette blurred behind the fog of the window, but I didn’t wipe it clear. I let her be a ghost in the distance.
On the other side of this building, Krystal lived like a queen. Everything in that penthouse was white. Cold. Glass and marble and stainless steel. No laughter. No warmth. Just ice.
We lived separate lives. Separate wings.
She pretended not to notice.
I never touched her.
She’d won a title, nothing more.
And I?
I got the best view in the city.
Of the only woman who ever made this world feel like home.
Of the one I couldn't hold.
Of the one who was finally building her dream, without me. But I watched her do it everyday. Maybe this was my hell. My purgatory. Watching the woman I loved build her dream while I’m chained into a nightmare.
The air was thick with roses. Literally. Some overzealous events manager thought it’d be festive to line the casino entrance with six-foot-tall floral arches and piping violin covers of every classic love song you could think of.
I almost punched the guy who ordered it.
Inside, everything was red velvet, gold glitter, too many heart-shaped balloons. Too much love. And none of it real.
And Krystal? She stormed into my office like the damn Queen of Hearts ready to rip heads off. Wearing red, of course—tight, short, furious.
“No candy. No flowers. No diamonds. No plans. Do you know what today is?”
I didn’t look up from the financials. “Tuesday.”
She slammed her manicured hands on my desk. “It’s Valentine’s Day, you cold-hearted son of a?—”
“Careful,” I warned, eyes flicking up slowly. “Don’t forget whose name is on the title of everything you touch.”
“Oh please,” she scoffed, pacing. “You gave me an Amex but treat me like a fucking prisoner.”
“You’re not a prisoner. You’re a placeholder.”
That shut her up for a second.
“Do you want me to go to my uncle?” she hissed. “Because I will.”
“I’m sure he’s expecting you.”
And just like that, she spun in her six-inch heels and clacked her way out of the office, perfume trailing like the scent of war.
The sight headache I developed earlier increased into a thudding pain as I entered the ballroom an hour later.
The council was already waiting. Four men in suits, all with eyes colder than the ice in my scotch.
Councilman Redmond—Krystal’s uncle—was front and center, flanked by two of his tribal enforcers and his weasel of a puppet—Krystal’s brother.
“Waters,” Redmond barked. “Your time’s up.”
“I didn’t realize I was on a clock.”
“You’ve embarrassed my niece. Again. She tells me you’re refusing to acknowledge Valentine’s Day? Not even flowers?”
“She has a black card and a personal shopper at Cartier,” I said dryly. “What more does she need? A soul?”
The room tensed.
Redmond’s jaw flexed. “This is not a joke. You forget what this alliance means? You forget who built your empire? Who protected you when Vegas wanted your head?”
“I built my empire,” I said through clenched teeth. “You bought in.”
“And now I’m demanding my return on investment,” Redmond snapped. “By summer, Waters. She gets her wedding. Her ring. Her baby. Or you lose everything.”
Brett, who’d been leaning against the wall silently, stepped in smoothly.
“It’s already in motion,” he said. “Vegas. We’ve got the venue, dress, ring. Just working out the last of the security protocol. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
I looked at him, and for once, thanked God he could lie with a straight face.
Redmond stared at me. “I want the marriage certificate and her positive pregnancy test hand delivered.”
He turned and walked out, entourage in tow, tension cutting the air like a blade.
Brett exhaled. “Happy Valentine’s Day, boss.”
“Get me a drink,” I muttered.
“You got it.”
We walked in silence back to my suite.
The fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickers of gold and shadow across the dark marble floors.
I stood in front of the windows that overlooked the harbor, drink in hand, my reflection staring back at me like a ghost. Cold.
Sharp. Haunted. A few floodlights still burned over the chain link fence on her land.
Some nights I swore I saw her silhouette walking the perimeter. Tall. Proud. Unshaken.
She never broke.
I used to think that was her greatest flaw.
Now, I know it’s her most dangerous power. And that’s how I filled my days between New Year’s and spring—broken hearted, pinned in a corner with no way out. My future sign, sealed, and delivered. Tied to a woman I’d never want or love.