Her voice is a whisper. “And…the baby?”
My eyes darken. “We can negotiate that,” I murmur, “after I’m done saving you.”
Her lips part and I almost kiss her again.
Almost.
But then, my phone vibrates sharply on the night stand and I ease out of her embrace to glance at the screen.
It’s my lawyer.
Three missed calls.
One text message.
“What does it say?”
I read it. Then look at her slowly. Her aunt isn’t backing down. And she isn’t bluffing. I meet Kamiyah’s gaze, the air thick between us.
“Your aunt,” I say, voice low and dangerous, “just announced she’s filing for an emergency amendment to your conservatorship tomorrow.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, but we’re not waiting to find out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CADEN
More about their pasts and why this arrangement becomes dangerous
A heated cliffhanger
By the time Kamiyah’s breathing evens out, I’ve already thrown on a dark suit jacket and shrugged into the armor I’ve spent years perfecting: effortless power, unshakable calm, lethal intention.
I’m back to being the man the world knows—the ruthless negotiator, the corporate prince with blood made of ink and contracts.
But inside?
Inside I’m the man whose forehead was pressed to hers minutes ago, whose restraint snaps under the heat of her breath. The man who still feels her trembling hand in mine.
I turn to her.
She’s standing near the windows, hands clasped, staring out at the city lights like she’s trying to steady herself. The skyline glows against her silhouette—soft, fragile, determined.
“Kamiyah,” I say.
She turns.
I step closer, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve. “We’re making the announcement in twenty minutes.”
Her eyes widen. “Twenty—? Why so soon?”
“Because your aunt moves fast,” I say. “And I move faster.” The gala is the biggest private event for the elites and everyone will be there — donors, investors, judges, and the heads of many organizations.
A shiver ripples through her. “What do we even tell people?”
“The truth,” I say simply.
