Chapter 11
Freya POV:
I drifted in and out of sleep all night.
The locked box of memories had finally cracked wide open, and everything inside—the joy, the agony—spilled out, screaming and thrashing in my mind.
It wasn't until the alarm jolted me awake that I realized my face was soaked.
I threw myself together and headed for the office, only realizing once I was behind the wheel that my eyes were swollen like peaches.
I'd been so out of it I hadn't even thought to use a cold compress.
Harvey wasn't in yet when I arrived.
I hurried to my desk to prep for the day.
Emily poked her head over the partition.
"You're heading out today?"
"Client visits. Two of them."
I logged the itinerary into the tracking system.
"Are you trying to kill yourself?"
She grabbed my arm, her eyes scanning my face.
"You're running yourself ragged, Freya."
I gave her a hollow smile.
"I need the money, Emily."
"Not at this price."
She looked at me with genuine worry.
I patted her shoulder.
"I'm fine. I'll be in surgery soon enough. Don't worry about me."
Without another word, I hurried out of the office.
The two clients were a three-hour drive apart.
Usually, I'd only hit one per day.
But today, I couldn't stomach the thought of being in the same building as Harvey.
We had crossed a line last night, and I had no idea how to face him yet.
Besides, the clock was ticking.
I'd already blown past the doctor's deadline for removing the hardware in my leg.
And the pain was flaring up with terrifying frequency.
I was barely on the highway when Harvey's call came through.
"Freya, I didn't approve your itinerary. Turn around and get back to the office. Now."
"Sorry, I'm already on the road. For safety reasons, please stop calling me while I'm driving."
I was right to leave early.
I let out a long breath of relief and switched my phone off.
By the time I'd finished both visits, evening had settled in.
I'd skipped lunch to make time for the drive.
Sitting in the car, I organized my sales logs and uploaded the site photos to the system.
The second I turned my phone back on, it screamed for attention.
"Where are you?"
Harvey's voice was a low simmer of repressed rage.
"Tasks complete. I'm heading home."
"Are you out of your mind?" he snapped, cutting me off.
I didn't argue.
I didn't say anything at all.
After a heavy silence, he finally spoke again.
"Go get some dinner. And from now on, you don't step foot out of that office without my personal sign-off."
I was too exhausted to fight.
I hung up and shut the phone off again.
My right leg felt like lead.
I'd pushed it way past its limit today.
I started the engine and rubbed the aching muscle.
Come on, babe, I whispered to my leg. Just two more hours and we're home. Just hold on. Please.
Two hours later, I climbed out of the car, my legs feeling like cotton.
I realized then that I'd missed dinner, too.
But I didn't care.
All I wanted was to vanish into my bed.
But when the elevator doors slid open, I froze.
Harvey was leaning against my door.
A takeout bag hung from the handle.
When he saw me, he straightened up, his face as dark as a thundercloud.
My heart sank.
He was the last person I wanted to see, but there was nowhere left to hide.
I dragged my numb leg toward him.
The hallway lights, usually so dim, felt blindingly bright.
"Evening..."
The greeting sounded hollow even to my own ears.
"Have you eaten?" His voice was ice.
"No."
I reached for the bag and unlocked the door.
"Is this for me?"
It was sushi from the place I used to love.
I hadn't ordered from there once since we broke up.
I gave the bag a small lift.
"Thanks."
Harvey pushed past me into the apartment, taking the bag from my hand.
He began laying out the containers on the table, one by one, as if he were the master of this space.
"Come and eat," he commanded.
I drifted to the sofa and collapsed, curling myself into a ball.
"Too tired... I'll eat tomorrow."
"No. You're eating now."
He grabbed my arm, hauling me upright.
I shoved him away, my frustration boiling over.
"Leave me alone! ‘m exhausted. I just want to sleep."
He tightened his grip on my arm, his voice dropping into a low, suppressed growl. "Who told you to run yourself into the ground like this?
“What the hell are you playing at, Freya?"
I shot him a look of pure resentment.
"I need the money. But you're the one holding my commission hostage."
His tone grew colder, harder.
"You know there's a protocol. I'm not doing this on purpose."
He took a sharp breath, forcing his voice to steady.
“Are you in such a hurry to get paid just so you can run away from me again?"
The pressure of his fingers on my arm was beginning to throb.
My throat felt thick, raw with unshed emotion.
Suddenly, the tears broke.
"Harvey..." I choked out, a sob racking my chest. "I'm scared."
I was scared that my leg wouldn't hold out much longer.
Scared that after the surgery, things might actually get worse.
I was terrified of every single maybe.
He seemed to flinch.
The next second, he pulled me violently into his arms.
I could feel his chest heaving, his breath hitching as he shook.
"Don't be scared, Freya. I've got you."
I froze, my spine turning to stone.
"Get away from me," I wailed, the dam finally breaking. I couldn't hold it back anymore. "I don't want to see you!"
I fought to push him off, but he only held on tighter, pinning me against him.
"Don't do this, Freya... please, don't do this."
I didn't have the strength to fight him anymore.
I slumped against his chest, using what little energy I had left to let the tears flow.
He pressed his face against mine, his skin grazing mine in a slow, desperate rhythm.
"Freya, I'm sorry. I've wanted to say that for so long. I'm so sorry."
"What's an apology worth?" my voice hoarse.
He went silent, but his arms didn't loosen an inch.
"Nothing," he whispered. "It's worth nothing. But I still have to say it."
----
He was so warm. He carried that scent I had once been obsessed with, and my frozen body was starved for that heat.
My arms found their way around his neck, greedily drinking in his warmth.
He cupped my face, his breathing heavy and ragged.
"Freya, I've made a lot of mistakes. I know that.
“But I'm not letting you walk away again."
I startled, my instinct telling me to recoil, but my body was already meeting him halfway.
His lips were hot, urgent, like a man who had been starving for years.
His tongue surged into my mouth, claiming me, and my body went limp as my breath came in heavy, jagged gasps.
He moved down, his kisses tracing a path along my neck and my collarbone, setting a fire deep under my skin.
"Did you miss me?" his voice vibrated against my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe.
A surge of heat pooled in my lower abdomen.
I turned my face away, refusing to answer.
He caught my jaw, forcing me back to face him.
"I know you hate me," he rasped. "But I haven't spent a single day without thinking about you."
A lone tear tracked down the corner of my eye.
He paused, kissing the salt away before finding my lips again.
This time, with a devastating tenderness.
-
----
Then, he lifted me—carefully, almost reverently—and laid me down on the bed.
I bit my lower lip, the battle between my fading logic and my primal hunger raging in my chest.
I wanted to say no, but I couldn't fight the craving anymore.
"Freya... may I?"
His voice was pure velvet.
His light blue eyes were swimming with a raw, undeniable affection.
Fragments of our life from two years ago collided in my mind, leaving me dazed.
A few more tears slipped from the corners of my eyes.
"Harvey," I whispered. "I want you."
His breath hitched, a visible tremor running through him.
He traced a path of kisses downward, his mouth finding my nipples, my abdomen, and finally, the space between my thighs.
I gasped for air, my fingers tangling deep in his hair.
He teased me with his tongue.
His fingers sliding inside me with a slow, tentative probe before finding a rhythm that left me undone.
I cried out as the heat began to pool and build, a frantic pressure coiling tight.
As his pace quickened, his finger hit exactly the right spot.
And a firework exploded behind my eyelids.
My body arched, trembling violently, as the heat shattered and pulsed through every nerve ending.
All that was left of me was the sound of my own heavy, ragged breathing.
But then, his fingers found the scar on my right leg.
His lips followed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against the jagged skin.
"Freya... what is this?"
Every muscle in my body seized.
I rolled onto my side, trying to shield the scar from his view.
"Don't, Harvey. I want you—right now."
I pulled him close, but a deep, hollow sadness settled in my gut.
He'd found it.
He finally knew.
I closed my eyes, unable to meet the burning intensity of his gaze.
I was terrified I wouldn't be able to hold myself together.
He shifted his weight and sank into me.
The sheer fullness of him flooded me, but it was accompanied by a ghost of a dull ache.
My body recoiled instinctively.
"God, Freya... relax. You're crushing me," he groaned, leaning in to kiss me with a devastating gentleness.
The tears threatened to spill over again.
I pressed my hands against his chest.
"Harvey..." I didn't know what to say. I didn't have the words.
His kisses were slow, patient.
"We can stop," he whispered, his hands trembling where they braced him on either side of me.
"It's not too late to stop."
He was being so good to me.
Too good.
At that moment, I refused to let the past or the future in.
I closed my eyes and wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
"Harvey, don't stop."
He let out a low, guttural groan.
"Damn it, Freya... I'm losing it. Baby."
He hooked his hands under my hips, his thrusts turning powerful and urgent.
It was a collision of suppression and raw, desperate hunger.
We stayed locked together until the world dissolved into a blur of shaking limbs and frantic gasps.
He pressed a kiss into my hair as we came down.
"Freya, you're mine. You've always been mine."
I buried my face in his chest and said nothing.