He kisses the tip of my nose, sighing against my skin. “Sleep, baby. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
But I catch the tightness in his tone—the quiet worry beneath the words. My hand finds his chest, settling over his heart. “It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll be in London until the project wraps. And after that... I always planned on coming back.”
His smile is soft, but the relief in it is unmistakable. “Don’t worry now, Violet. Just sleep.”
His thumb traces the curve of my lower lip, and I’m seconds from drifting off when I hear him murmur, almost too quiet to catch, “You’ll have to come back soon anyway... how else will you have our baby?”
My eyes fly open. “Steady on, cowboy.”
He laughs, but something about the way he watches me says he means it more than he lets on.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he adds.
I groan. “Please don’t say you’re planning the second one already.”
“No more hiding,” he says, serious now. “From now on, everyone knows you’re mine.”
I smile against his chest, eyes already fluttering shut. “Yes, sir. Now let me sleep.”
“You can,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on my temple.
His heartbeat thrums against my cheek, steady and sure, as he pulls me close, fingers weaving through my hair. For once, there’s no fear, no hollow ache—just the quiet sense that I’m exactly where I belong.
Chapter thirty-five
Chase
Six months later
“I said you could have one dance, Richard, not front a whole new season ofDancing with the Stars.”
I know I’m a possessive bastard, but Richard Morgan has held Violet captive on the dancefloor for the best part of thirty minutes, and the man has the rhythm of a wind-up toy.
“How do you put up with him, Violet?” Richard aims a smirk at me, but his eyes stay glued on her.
“Oh, he has his moments,” Violet winks, twirling one more time.
“I can always arrange for you to be shoved back in that tunnel if you prefer, Richard,” I drawl, flashing my best Wall Street smile. Civil, polished—utterly laced with threat.
I try my hardest to rein in my caveman tendencies around Violet, but there’s only so much I can bear of another man’s hands on her before my irritation levels max out.
Richard chuckles, not the least bit fazed. He offers me Violet’s hand like he’s handing over a duchess, all mock elegance. “Well,you know what they say... did the night even happen unless Chase Knight threatened someone?”
I raise a brow. “Some traditions deserve to be kept alive.”
His eyes narrow just a little, but the smug grin stays, his attention shifting back to Violet. “It was lovely to see you, Violet,” he gushes. “You’ve got my contact now. Let’s set up a lunch between Monarch and Nexora sometime.”
Christ, now he’s just trolling me, and judging by the glint in his eye, enjoying every second.
“Of course, my pleasure,” Violet replies with a polite smile, threading her fingers through mine. Just that small spark of contact is enough to quiet my heart.
Violet looks up at me, pressing her fingertips into my chest. “Shall we sit down for a while? My new shoes are killing me.” She steers me away from the dancefloor, weaving through the throngs of people. I follow like I always do. I’d follow her to the brink of destruction if she said the view was nice. Yep, this woman has my goddamn balls on speed dial, and there’s not a thing I can do about it.
We wander for a bit, slipping past well-dressed guests sipping champagne and laughing in small clusters. The band plays a jazzed-up cover of something from the ‘80s, and couples sway on the outdoor dance floor laid over the grass, heels kicked off, and ties loosened.
Eventually, we find a quiet spot near a low stone wall that backs onto the tree line, far enough from the band that we can talk without shouting.
I drop into one of the vintage wrought-iron chairs and tug Violet onto my lap. My arm drapes around her waist, fingers brushing that sensitive spot on the inside of her wrist. She shivers and leans in closer as I sweep her hair aside to press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder.
