An alert pings through my dashboard. I glance at the screen, splitting my gaze between that and the road. Someone beeps and I slam the brakes on before I collide with the side of a yellow cab.
Shit.
I lift my hand in apology and pull over in the first available space at the curb. As soon as the car rolls to a stop, I drag my phone out of my pocket. The alert was for the penthouse.
I open the app, the footage playing automatically. And for the first time in an hour, I breathe.
It’s Mia, entering our home.
She doesn’t look hurt, just tired, like she’s dragging the weight of the world behind her. Ice fills my stomach, but she’s safe, behind walls designed to protect her. That’s all I care about.
I toss my phone into the cup holder, glance over my shoulder and slide back into traffic. By the time I guide the car into the parking garage under our building, I’m vibrating with a mix of emotions I can’t even name anymore.
The ride up in the elevator is torture. Every part of me itches to get my hands on her, to make sure she’s unharmed. I’m twitchy, coming out of my skin in a way that I won’t be able to control until she’s in my grasp.
As soon as I open the front door, I’m drawn to her like gravity. She standing in front of the window, looking out over the Hudson. Her arms are folded around her body, like she’s stitched herself together and is holding the threads.
Mia’s eyes lift, locking on mine, and I don’t like how pale she is, how tight her expression stretches.
I move before I consider if she wants me to and, to my relief, she doesn’t protest when I crush her against my chest. Damn. She’s here. She’s safe. I cling to her like I can hold the demons at bay just with my embrace.
She’s so small, so fragile.
So breakable.
Every instinct flares to life inside me, demanding that I keep her safe, lock her behind the doors of the penthouse where no one can touch her.
“Fuck, Mia.” I breathe into her hair.
I can smell the strawberry of her shampoo and the light floral scent of her perfume—a scent that is all her. It wraps around me like a blanket.
Mia doesn’t hug me back, but I don’t care. I’ve got her, and that’s all that matters.
I pull back, scanning her face, but she keeps her eyes averted.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” It’s not what I mean to say. I want to ask her if she’s okay. If she’s hurt. But my fear is in the driver’s seat. “Do you have idea what I’ve gone through in the last hour?”
Mia steps away from me, like she needs the space. Breaking, just like Theo said. I scan every inch of her for bruises, for blood, but she looks fine—tired and pale, but unharmed.
“Do we have to do this now?”
Yeah, we fucking do. I’m vibrating with tension that I need to get out of me.
“You left the gallery alone.” She stays quiet. “You were gone for an hour, Mia. I didn’t know if you were safe, hurt, kidnapped—” I trail off, the words trapped in my throat like shards of glass. “You left without a phone. No guards. Without telling anyone where the hell you were going.” My voice breaks. She has noidea I’ve spent the last hour building her eulogy in my head and she doesn’t seem to care either, which scares me the most. “Say something,” I snap at her silence.
“I didn’t realize I needed permission to exist,” she mutters. “I must’ve missed that part of our wedding vows.”
“You could have been taken!” My pulse is pounding like a war drum. There’s a roaring in my head so loud I can’t focus past it. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”
She turns slowly and when her eyes meet mine, they’re flat, empty, like she’s given up. That hits me like a punch because I know those eyes. I’ve seen them laugh, lit up with excitement, hot with lust or need.
But this?
This is wrong.
“As you can see, I’m fine.”
But she’s not. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not fucking fine. “You were reckless.”
