Is this love? This terrifying, all-consuming obsession? This feeling of being utterly owned yet completely secure? I don't know what it is, but I know I have never felt anything like it.
My eyes drift past him, to the floor by the far wall. The emerald dress lies there, a crumpled, ruined heap of silk.
The memories crash back in, not as shards of glass, but as a coherent, horrifying sequence. Asher’s rage. The argument on the balcony, the sickening crack, the scream. West, moving through the chaos not like a grieving nephew, but like a king claiming his throne.
My mind latches onto the foundation of it all. The arrangement, the deal we made. It feels like a lifetime ago, a story about two other people.
He stirs, his eyes opening slowly. They are dark, clear, and focused entirely on me as a slow smile touches his lips. “Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
“West,” I say, my own voice soft but firm. I have to know. I have to hear it in the clear light of day. “Are we still… fake dating?”
His smile widens and he chuckles, a low, intimate sound as if I’ve just told the funniest joke in the world. He pulls me closer, until my nose is almost touching his. “Kinsley,” he says, his voice dropping, becoming serious, absolute. “There has never been anything fake about this. Not for me.”
My breath catches.
“I saw you, and I decided you were mine,” he continues, his gaze intense. “The ‘fake dating’ was just the most efficient way to make you see that, too. It was a way to get past your father, past my uncle, past your own walls. It was the key to the city I always intended to conquer.”
It wasn’t a game that became real. It was a hunt that was real from the very first second.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, a harsh, unwelcome intrusion.
We both look at it. The screen glows with a single word: DAD.
Before West can move, before the instinct to protect and control can kick in, I reach out and pick it up. My hand is steady, my heart is calm. I press the green icon.
“Hi, Dad,” I say, my voice clear and even.
“Kinsley! Thank God. Are you alright? I’ve been calling all night. The news… It’s a nightmare. I’m sending a car. I don’t care what that boy says, you are coming home.”
I glance at West. He is watching me, his expression unreadable, waiting. He’s giving me the choice.
“No, Dad,” I say, and the word is not terrifying this time. It’s just a fact. “Don’t send a car. I’m not coming home.”
“What are you talking about? Kinsley, that family is poison. Asher Monroe is dead!”
“I know,” I say calmly. “I was there, and I’m staying with West. This is where I want to be.”
The silence on the other end of the line is profound. My father, for the first time in my life, is speechless.
“I’ll call you later, Dad,” I say gently. “I promise, but I’m okay. I’m more than okay.”
I end the call and place the phone back on the nightstand as I turn back to West. His eyes are burning with a fierce, triumphant pride as he leans in and kisses me again, hard and deep, a kiss of approval, of partnership.
“Good girl,” he whispers against my lips.
He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He is gloriously, unapologetically naked, his back a canvas of corded muscle. He picks up his own phone.
“Now it’s my turn,” he says, his gaze meeting mine in the reflection of the dark screen.
He dials a number. “Marcus,” he says, his voice turning to ice. “Yes, a terrible tragedy… I appreciate the condolences.”
He listens, his jaw tight. Then he stands and walks to the vast window, looking down at the city he no longer wants.
“I see,” he says. “That’s a fine plan, but I’m not interested.” He pauses. “No, you heard me correctly. I’m not taking the seat. I’m not coming back. He’s dead. His reign is over.”
He turns back and looks directly at me, and I know this isn’t for Marcus. This is for me. This is the final act.
“The board can have it. Carve it up however you like. My shares are being placed in a blind trust, effective today. I’ll retain my dividend income, but my voting rights are being abdicated. I’m going to the NHL. My business is on the ice now. Don’t call me about the company again.”
