The room went still for a moment. Nothing moved but the light on the walls and the low hum of air conditioning.
Gage’s voice was quiet. “She’s not ready.”
“You think a year will do it?”
Gage exhaled. “It has to.”
Nate didn’t say more. They both knew the kingdom wouldn’t wait longer than that. Neither would his father.
Gage reached for his keys, and with a nod toward Nate, walked out.
The glass doors opened with a hush, letting out the slow tide of passengers from Flight 819.
Bea stepped through with her carry-on, shoulders slightly tense. The cool air of the terminal clung to her skin, sterile, bright lights, the shuffle of tired feet on tile. Her sneakers squeaked slightly as she moved.
The UR belonged to the opposite hemisphere. Where January in Canada meant frostbite and fogged-up windows, here it was summer. Full sun, thick heat, light stretching long into evening.
Christmas and New Year’s had been magical in the snow.
Coming back to warmth felt like a return to life.
The airport was just as beautiful as she remembered. But that wasn’t what caught her eye.
It was him.
She saw Gage before he saw her. Broad-shouldered, striking, commanding in the very stillness of his posture. Dark suit, sunglasses perched on his head. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone.
Her feet slowed. Last time she’d arrived here, she’d been wide-eyed with awe yet blind to what the future held.
Now she was walking toward it. It was right there. Waiting for her.
He lifted his head and saw her. His eyes moved over her face, her hair, the way her dress clung slightly from the heat.
She crossed the final stretch between them. When she was close enough to breathe him in, he reached for her. One hand onher waist, the other sliding up into her hair. For a long beat, they stood there in the middle of Arrivals like nothing else existed.
“Welcome back,” he murmured into her hair.
The last of her anxieties melted away. “Thanks.”
“Ready?”
She nodded. Then, glancing at his bodyguards, she leaned forward and whispered so they wouldn’t hear, “Can I…come home with you?”
“You never need to ask.” He placed his hand on her lower back. “You have the code.”
Bea noted the two men posted just outside the penthouse entrance, different faces from the ones she’d gotten used to. He must rotate teams at night. Which meant his security was twenty-four seven now, even in the UR.
Another reminder of how much had changed in only a month.
Gage punched in the combination, then pushed the door open. Clean hardwood floors caught the last of the daylight. She slipped off her sneakers, tucked them neatly by the bench, and moved into the expansive living room, where Northgate stretched beyond the glass, as sharp and breathtaking as she remembered.
“You hungry?” he asked as he pulled her carry-on and suitcases inside and closed the door.
“You cooked?” She turned with a smile, smelling something wok-tossed.
“Not this time. I ordered.”
That’s when she noticed the kitchen island was already set. Plates, cutlery, linen napkins folded with care. Thai, from the place she liked near his office. A pitcher of water, sliced citrus, mint curling at the top.
