Chapter 16
SAXON
Ipressed the phone to my ear for the fourth time since leaving the salon, and her voicemail kicked in again.
I didn’t even listen to the beep. I just ended the call with a swipe of my thumb and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.
My jaw clenched so hard it ached. I gripped the wheel and shifted lanes, pushing harder on the gas as the Manhattan skyline pulled closer in the distance.
I’d walked into the salon ready to bring her back with me—take her home, where I could get her naked. Instead, I found Lorna standing behind the counter with an expression that gutted me. She didn’t say anything at first. Just reached for her phone and showed me the picture.
My body had recoiled in panic and disbelief. I didn’t stay long enough to field her questions. I’d turned, bolted, and was already slamming the driver’s door before Lorna finished her sentence.
Ivy’s voicemail clicked off again, and my phone lit up with my missed call count.
My fingers flexed around the wheel with so much tension the leather creaked.
She wasn’t taking my calls. She wasn’t answering my texts.
She was probably sitting somewhere crying her eyes out alone, because that was the kind of woman she was. She internalized and spiraled quietly.
The thought of her hurting in silence because she thought I betrayed her started a burn in my chest that spread fast.
I slammed my palm against the steering wheel—hard enough to make the horn blast and the car jerk in its lane. A few drivers honked, but I didn’t give a shit.
“Fuck!” The word tore out of me. I snatched my phone from the seat and tried again, but this time, I waited for her voicemail.
“Ivy, answer the damn phone!” I shouted before I nearly crushed the phone in my hand, then tossed it away again.
She wouldn’t answer. I knew she wouldn’t, but I’d keep trying because I hated the thought that she’d given in to the fears I’d been working so hard to overcome.
It pissed me off a little because I had busted my soul open to her from the start. I’d locked onto her like a missile from the first moment, giving her no reason to think I’d move on from her so easily.
I forced myself to breathe, to take a second, so I didn’t drive the SUV straight through red lights and get arrested on the bridge.
My knuckles were white on the wheel. My teeth were clenched so tight my jaw throbbed.
I needed to see her. We had to talk face-to-face.
I wasn’t losing her over this trash. I wouldn’t allow it.
She was mine.
I’d told her. Shown her. Made her feel it in every touch, every kiss, every look.
Traffic thinned when I hit the island of Manhattan, and I threaded through cars, cutting lanes with precision.
My mind kept replaying her face earlier when she kissed me goodbye at the salon.
The softness around her eyes. That slight lean-in she did right at the end, like she didn’t want to let go. The smile she tried to hide.
She’d trusted me this morning. She was settled. Warm. Happy.
And now she was hurting because some parasite with a camera angled a shot so it looked like my new PR rep was in my personal space instead of her simply handing me a damn file in the lobby.
My phone buzzed on the seat, and I reached for it.
Not Ivy. Fuck!
I didn’t answer.
Nothing mattered but getting to her.
I raced through two more green lights in a row and then turned onto her street, parking behind a delivery van. I didn’t bother adjusting or straightening the car. I just grabbed my phone and shoved it into my pocket.
The door slammed behind me as I sprinted for the building entrance. The elevator was too slow, so I ran right by it and through the heavy steel door into the stairwell. I took the steps two at a time, adrenaline roaring through my system.
By the time I hit her landing, I was breathing hard but not winded. Just keyed up in a way that made my pulse pound in my neck. I marched straight to her door and hit it with my fist.
“Ivy.” Nothing. I hit it again, louder. “Sunshine, open the door.”
Silence.
I leaned in, lowered my voice, and let my steely determination come through my tone. “Open the damn door, or I will do it for you.”
For a second, there was no response, and I wondered if she was even there.
Then there was a tiny click, followed by the rattle of the chain as it slid free.
The door cracked open, and she stood there in leggings and one of her oversized soft sweaters, the sleeves covering her fists. Her hair was messy, and her lashes were damp with tears.
Pain twisted in my heart at the sight of her blotchy red cheeks and lips swollen from crying. The second my eyes landed on hers—just the raw hurt in them—it damn near ripped something in half inside me.
She sniffed and wiped away the wetness on one cheek with her sleeve.
That was all it took.
I scooped her into my arms and nudged the door shut with my foot. She sucked in a shuddering breath and buried her face against my neck as her body melted into mine.
I carried her to the couch and sank with her cradled in my lap, her cheek pressed to my shoulder, while her body shook with quiet sobs.
I wrapped both arms around her and cupped the back of her head, my fingers sliding into her hair. Holding her, anchoring her. She clutched the front of my hoodie in both fists, as if she thought I might vanish if she let go. I pressed my mouth to the top of her head and felt my chest pull tight.
“I thought—” she whispered, her voice wet and broken.
“No.” I shut it down immediately. “Don’t finish that thought.”
Her shoulders trembled once more and then slowly settled, her breath warm through my shirt. I didn’t speak again, just held her until the tears slowed and her breathing evened out.
I finally slid my hand beneath her jaw and tipped her face up with my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look me in the eye. Her lashes were clumped. Her makeup smeared. She looked heartbreakingly vulnerable.
“I thought I’d made myself clear, Sunshine.” My voice came out low and rough, threaded with something deeper than a promise. “I can’t even look at other women, Ivy. You’re all I see.”
Her breath hitched, and recognition, shame, and relief collided in her expression. Then she launched forward, throwing her arms around my neck and clinging with everything she had as if I was the only thing holding her back from the brink.
“I’m so sorry,” she choked against my throat. “I saw that and I panicked. I should’ve trusted you. You’ve been steady and open, and I just—you’ve proved who you are over and over, and I—”
I held her with one hand at her spine and the other on the back of her head, my chest expanding slowly.
“Hey,” I murmured into her hair. “Breathe.”
She took a shaky inhale, then pulled back just far enough to look at me again. Her eyes were huge and filled with guilt.
“The woman in the picture is our new PR rep.” I kept my tone flat because emotion wasn’t needed for truth. “Not only do I barely know her but what you don’t see in that photo—because of the angle—is that she’s wearing a massive rock on her finger. She’s also very pregnant with twins.”
Ivy blinked, then her mouth fell open a little.
“You’re kidding,” she whispered.
“No. That picture is bullshit piled on bullshit.” I shook my head once. “Those vultures will twist anything into a payday.”
She groaned and dropped her forehead to my shoulder. “I feel like an idiot.”
I slid my palm up to cup her jaw again—gently this time—and made her lift her head. Her brown eyes were glassy but swimming with hope.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again.
“I don’t want you to be sorry, Ivy. I just want you to believe me when I say that I’m not going anywhere.”
Her lips trembled, and she nodded, resolve written on her beautiful face.
I leaned in, kissed her softly—just a slow brush of mouths that felt like an oath—and pressed my forehead to hers.
“You’re it for me, Sunshine.”
She let out a soft, unsteady breath, the kind that felt like surrender. Her shoulders eased, her fingers loosened their grip on my hoodie, and her expression softened into something new. Something wide open.
The fear was gone. So was the hesitation.
She looked at me like she saw the truth now, as though it finally landed in her chest where it belonged, solid and real and unshakable.
“You’re it for me too, Saxon.”
The words weren’t fragile or uncertain. They were threaded with the kind of conviction that didn’t leave room for doubt. She meant every single syllable. And the words landed like a punch to the ribs, knocking the wind out of me in the best damn way.
I didn’t answer with words.
I leaned in and kissed her.
Mouth to mouth, heat to heat, with steady pressure.
Her hands curled into my chest, and she melted against me like she’d been waiting for this exact moment to set herself free.
I felt it in the way her breath caught. In the way her lips parted, soft and eager, moving with mine as I deepened the kiss.
Not to rush. Not to take. Just to feel. To anchor us right here, in the quiet aftermath of almost losing something neither of us wanted to live without.
She tasted like hope. Like every second of doubt being stripped away, one breath at a time, until all that was left was the truth between us—raw and simple. Irreversible.
And I took it.
Because she was mine.