Chapter 26 Wyatt
Wyatt had spent the entire weekend fighting the urge to completely dismantle the wall between them.
Every hour he’d spent by her side—watching her move through his rooms, seeing her settle into the quiet rhythm of his life—had been a challenge to his own restraint.
He’d wanted her tucked away, shielded, and entirely his, but he wasn't a fool. He knew that forcing the issue of staying would only trigger that frantic, flighty instinct he was working so hard to dismantle. So, when she insisted on going back to her own unit a few floors down Sunday evening, he’d relented with a curt nod, even as restless agitation clawed at his chest. He’d walked her to the elevator himself, his hand resting heavy on the small of her back until the doors slid shut, and he’d spent the night in his own bed feeling the absence of her warmth like a missing limb.
He didn't sleep. He hated that she was only a quick elevator ride away, and he hated that he couldn't keep her within his immediate reach, where he could personally guarantee she remained untouched and secure.
By Monday morning, he was standing outside her door at the exact moment he had told her he would be there.
He knocked—a sharp, measured sound that commanded the hallway—and the moment she opened it, he watched the small, surprised look on her face smooth away.
She saw him, and whatever morning haze she’d been harboring evaporated the second her eyes met his.
He felt that familiar, possessive relief settle in his chest, the simple, undeniable fact that she was there and exactly where he wanted her.
"Good morning, Itsy-Bitsy," he murmured, the words dropping like a soft weight as he stepped into the light of her doorway.
He didn't wait for her to respond, simply reaching out to lace his fingers through hers, his grip possessive and warm. The mere sensation of her tucked against his side as they moved down the quiet corridor was enough to satisfy the restlessness that had plagued him since they’d parted.
With her back in his orbit, the world was finally in its proper order, and the jagged edge of his impatience softened into something far more content.
Enigma hummed with its usual, controlled intensity the moment they walked into the executive wing. They were barely five steps inside when Lennon appeared, moving toward them with a hurried, apologetic urgency.
"Bitsy! Oh my god, I am so sorry," Lennon blurted, her eyes wide. "About Friday night. I feel terrible that you got dragged into the heat of things because of me."
Wyatt stopped, his hand resting on the small of Bitsy’s back. He watched them, his expression neutral, measuring the reaction. He saw Bitsy offer Lennon a genuinely sweet smile, her demeanor open and relaxed in a way that felt entirely natural.
"It’s okay, really," Bitsy said, her voice light. "I actually had a great time. I’m really looking forward to playing with you and Penny again soon."
Wyatt felt a distinct, sharp spike of pride. It was a small, seemingly inconsequential exchange, but it confirmed everything he needed to know about her growth. She wasn't carrying the fear anymore; she was ready for the connection.
As he observed the exchange, Silas stepped up silently to his shoulder, watching the two women walk away together toward Lennon’s office.
"She’s settling in well," Silas noted.
"She is," Wyatt agreed, his eyes staying locked on her until the door to Lennon’s office clicked shut behind them.
Zane joined them a second later, a tray of coffee balanced expertly in his hands, along with a separate, steaming, insulated cup for Bitsy. He looked over at Wyatt, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Morning. I figured you two would be dragging a bit after the weekend."
Wyatt didn't blink, his expression unreadable as he accepted the coffee, the scent of the dark roast grounding him. "We’re doing just fine, Zane."
Zane’s gaze shifted toward the office door, his tone casual, like he was commenting on the weather. "Good to hear. Though, you know, I saw you take her over your knee Friday night—hell of a show."
“If I have to correct her, I don't care who is present," Wyatt replied, his voice level. "That’s my job, and I’m going to do it."
Hudson strolled over to complete the group, his expression uncharacteristically serious for a Monday. "Easy, man. You’re coming on a little strong, even for you."
"I’m not coming on too strong," Wyatt corrected, his voice flat. "I’m securing my assets." He took a long, steady pull of his coffee and looked between his three most trusted men. "I’m moving her in."
The silence that settled over them wasn't heavy—it was the distinct, sharp weight of clarity. Hudson and Zane exchanged a look, letting the statement hang in the air, while Silas just sighed, a nostalgic expression crossing his face.
"Best move I ever made," Silas said, his voice dropping. "Moving Lennon in. You take the variables out of the equation. You know exactly where she is, who she’s with, and that she’s sleeping soundly every single night. It does things to the dynamic that you can’t get any other way."
"I’m already drawing up the specs for a dedicated office space for her right across from mine," Wyatt said, ignoring the small flare of possessive heat in his gut at the thought of having her there, within reach, twenty-four hours a day. "I want her in the fold. I want her fully integrated."
"She’s going to fight you on it," Hudson pointed out.
"She can fight all she wants," Wyatt said, a dangerous, calm smile playing on his lips. "It’s already decided."
Zane chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped away. "I’m going to get these drinks to the girls. Try not to map out her entire future before your lunch, yeah?"
Wyatt watched him go, then turned his attention back to Hudson and Silas.
Hudson leaned against the wall, his gaze tracking Wyatt’s focused expression. "You're pushing hard, man. It’s no longer just about the work, and we both know you’re the one driving that."
Wyatt didn't blink. "Subtlety was never the goal. This is just the next logical step in the structure."
Silas crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "It’s one thing to have her under your thumb at the desk, and another to have her under your roof twenty-four-seven. You're asking for total surrender, not just compliance. You’re sure she’s ready to stop fighting for her own space?"
"She isn't fighting," Wyatt said, a dark, possessive calm settling over his features. "She’s waiting for me to take it. She knows exactly what this is."
Hudson didn't back down. "You're not just taking it; you're erasing the boundary between her work and the rest of her life. You're sure you want that kind of constant proximity?"
Wyatt glanced at his watch, the sharp, rhythmic ticking signaling that he was finished with the back-and-forth. "I'm sure of everything. Whatever comes next, I've already accounted for it."
He didn't give them a chance to reply, pivoting on his heel and crossing to Lennon's office in a few long, measured strides. He reached out, knocked once, and pushed the door open.
Wyatt stepped over the threshold, his gaze moving past Lennon to land squarely on Bitsy. Her eyes met his, and he watched the reflexive, sweet flicker of nervous anticipation that always appeared when she realized he was there.
Lennon smiled, a knowing, soft expression that Wyatt acknowledged with a slight, respectful inclination of his head before his focus returned entirely to the girl.
He didn't speak immediately; he just let the space between them fill with his presence, watching the way Bitsy’s shoulders softened the moment she saw him.
"It’s time to get to work," Wyatt said, his voice dropping into that low, warm register he reserved only for her.
Bitsy stood immediately, a small, shy smile touching her lips as she gathered her things. She moved with a practiced, fluid grace that made it clear she was already anticipating his touch.
"I'll see you later, Lennon," Bitsy murmured, her voice light as she moved toward him.
Wyatt waited until she was close enough that he could feel the faint, excited heat radiating from her.
As she reached him, he let his hand settle firmly against the small of her back.
The touch was possessive, a steadying, grounding presence meant to soothe the fluttering nerves he knew were dancing in her stomach.
"Ready?" he asked, his thumb brushing slowly against her spine.
Bitsy nodded, a flush of color rising to her cheeks as she kept her gaze focused on his chest, her posture yielding and expectant.
"Let’s go," he murmured, his hand gently guiding her forward.
As they stepped out into the hall, he could feel the quiet, vibrating hum of her anticipation.
He walked with her, matching his pace to hers so she didn't have to scramble to keep up.
She wasn't just following him because she had to; she was following him because she was finally starting to realize that being right here, under his watch, was exactly where she felt the most secure.
Wyatt ushered her inside their shared office, the heavy door clicking shut behind them to seal off the rest of the world. He turned to face her immediately, his gaze holding her in place. The professional veneer they maintained in the outer office vanished the moment the lock engaged.
He closed the distance between them, stepping into her space until the air felt charged. He reached out, his hand cupping her jaw to tilt her head back, forcing her to finally lift her gaze to his.
He saw her eyes widen—that sweet, familiar flicker of recognition crossing her face as she leaned into his touch. Her posture melted, yielding completely to the intensity of his focus.
He let his hand slide from her jaw to the nape of her neck, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin there.
Watching the shiver that raced down her spine, he leaned in, his voice dropping into that low, possessive register that always made her breath hitch.
"I have complete focus on you now, and I don't intend to let anything break it. "
He pulled her a step closer, closing the final inch of space between them. As she looked up at him, trusting and fully surrendered, he knew exactly where she belonged.
"We have a lot to cover today," he said, his voice a low vibration that seemed to resonate through the small space between them.
He didn't move his hand from the nape of her neck, his fingers curling slightly to hold her steady.
"But before we touch a single file, I need to know where your head is.
After the weekend, after everything we talked about—how are you feeling? "
Bitsy swallowed hard, her eyes darting briefly to his lips before returning to his steady, unwavering gaze.
"I... I feel centered," she whispered, the honesty of it clear in her tone.
"Being with you, having the structure... it makes the noise in my head stop. I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop anymore. "
Wyatt felt a surge of satisfaction so potent it nearly eclipsed his usual cool reserve.
He moved his other hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering against her cheek.
"Good. That’s exactly how I want you. Because when you’re centered, you’re effective.
And when you’re effective, you’re mine in the way that matters most."
He watched her knees wobble, a visible reaction to the intensity of his claim.
He pulled her slightly closer, until the soft fabric of her top brushed against his suit jacket.
"We’re going to work differently from here on out.
No more running back to your own place every evening.
I’ve already set the wheels in motion to have your things moved into my home by tonight. "
Her breath hitched, and her hands came up to rest tentatively on his chest. It wasn't a push, but a question—a silent search for reassurance.
"I told you," he reminded her, his voice dropping an octave, wrapping around her like a physical weight.
"I’m securing my assets. I want you where I can see you, where I can provide for you, and where I can ensure that no outside influence touches you.
Do you understand what that means for us, Bitsy? "
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any sign of hesitation, but she found only the iron-clad resolve she had come to rely on. A slow, tentative smile spread across her face, the kind that only appeared when she finally felt safe enough to let go.
"I understand," she said, her voice firmer this time.
"Good," Wyatt replied. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her temple in a gesture that was both a promise and a seal. "Then let’s start your day properly. Kneel for me."