The elevator ride up to Vince’s penthouse always felt longer than it was.
Two weeks without seeing him and my stomach couldn’t decide if it wanted to climb into my throat or drop through the floor.
The numbers ticked higher.
Which did nothing to calm my nerves.
He’d been different on the phone the last few nights. Still Daddy, still checking how much I’d eaten, how long I’d slept, but quieter under it. Like he was thinking about something he didn’t know how to say.
The doors slid open.
Vince stood in the doorway waiting like the elevator had delivered him.
Black shirt, sleeves pushed to his forearms, chain at his throat catching the low light. Jaw shaved cleaner than usual.
His eyes did that thing they always did—dragged down and back up, slowly, like he was memorising every inch.
“Hi.”The corner of my lips twitched up.
The word came out thinner than I intended.
His fingers brushing my jaw like he was checking I was real. “Hi, baby.”
The move should’ve been automatic for him. It wasn’t. There was a hesitation in it, a fraction too careful, like he thought I might flinch.
I stepped into him before he could second-guess it, arms sliding around his waist. His body went tight for half a heartbeat, then relaxed all at once.
There. That was home.
“You’re late.”
“Traffic. And dynasty. And heels.”
His laugh rumbled against my cheek. “Take the heels off if they’re killing you.”
“Not yet. I like seeing you look at my legs.”
“Fuck,” he breathed near my hair. “You’ve been here thirty seconds.”
“You missed me.”
“You have no idea.”
The familiar, safedomgravity settled around my ribs. For a second everything in me went soft with relief.
Then I pulled back enough to really look at him. He was tense. But it didn’t feel like the normal king of villain tense.
“What did you do.
The corner of his mouth tugged. “Definedo.”
My gaze slipped past him into the penthouse.
Candles.
Not a lot. Just enough to soften the edges of the room. The long dining table that usually held dossiers and spare magazines had been transformed—white plates, actual cloth napkins, glasses that matched. Food. Real food. Not takeout containers. Silver dome covered the dishes.
My chest squeezed.
