I stand abruptly, putting a few steps between us before I tie her to me forever. Because whether she acknowledges it or not, once I get a taste of her, I’ll never let her go.
Think, Caden.
She’s vulnerable.
She’s scared.
She’s here because she has nowhere else to go. I face away from her, toward the window overlooking the water.
The silence stretches.
She stands behind me. I feel her presence before she speaks.
“You don’t have to protect me,” she says softly.
I turn my head slightly. “I know.”
“Then why do you?” Her voice breaks. “Why still?”
Because I loved you.
Because I never stopped.
Because I waited for you for months, thinking you’d walk back through those facility doors, only to find out you’d left the country without a word.
Because losing you felt like losing my mother all over again—silent, sudden, unforgiving.
But I can’t say any of that. So I say the only thing that’s safe. “Because I made a promise once,” I answer quietly. “To look out for you. To look out for Anna. That doesn’t change.”
Her breath hitches. “I remember.”
I clench my jaw. “Good.”
Silence falls again—heavy, complicated, filled with all the things we’re both pretending not to feel.
“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” she says suddenly. “I don’t want to invade your space more than I already am.”
That yanks my head around.
“No,” I say firmly. “You’re staying in the guest room. You’re not sleeping out here alone where anyone can get to you.”
Her lips part. “Anyone? Caden, we’re in your penthouse. No one can?—”
“You’d be surprised,” I mutter.
Because Damian strikes me as exactly the kind of man who doesn’t respect boundaries. And her aunt is the kind of woman who knows how to bypass them.
She hesitates. Then nods.
“Okay.”
I exhale slowly. Some of the tension bleeds from my shoulders.
“Go get some rest,” I say. “I’ll take care of everything else.”
She lingers a moment—just long enough to make my chest tighten—before turning toward the hallway. But as she passes me, she stops.
Close.
