"I own what matters," I agree. "Your company. Your career. Your future." I reach out to cup her face, my thumb stroking her cheek. "You."
She doesn't pull away. Doesn't protest. Just closes her eyes briefly, and I see the resignation there—the acceptance of this new reality.
"You're the queen of your empire, Eve," I murmur. "But I'm the king. And every kingdom needs a king to protect it from wolves like Fred Greyhound."
"And if I don't want to be a queen?" Her voice is barely a whisper.
"Too late." I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. "You already agreed to be mine. The crown comes with the cage."
The car glides through the city, carrying us back to my penthouse. Back to her new life. Back to me.
She's home now, whether she fully understands it yet or not. And I will spend every day proving that this is exactly where she was always meant to be.
Chapter 15 - Eve
The television plays quietly in the background as I sit curled on Nathan's sofa—my sofa now, I suppose, since this is apparently home. The morning news anchor's voice is professional and detached as she delivers the day's tragedies with the same inflection she used for the weather.
"—severe injuries sustained in what police are calling a single-vehicle accident. Bryce Royston, a prominent figure in the fashion industry, remains in critical condition. Doctors say he may never walk again—"
The coffee cup freezes halfway to my lips.
Bryce's face fills the screen—a professional photo from some gala, his smile wide and false. Then the footage switches to the accident scene. Twisted metal. Shattered glass. Emergency vehicles with their lights painting the darkness red and blue.
"The brake line appears to have failed completely," a police spokesperson explains to the camera. "We're investigating whether this was a mechanical failure or possible tampering—"
I set the coffee down carefully, my hands perfectly steady even though my heart is racing. I should feel something—shock, horror, maybe even a dark satisfaction after everything Bryce did to me. But all I feel is a cold, heavy certainty settling in my stomach like a stone.
This was Nathan.
Not a suspicion. Not a fear. A fact as solid as the marble floor beneath my feet.
The news moves on to other stories—a robbery, a political scandal, things that matter to people whose lives haven't beenshattered and rebuilt by a man who destroys anyone who threatens his possessions.
I turn off the television and sit in the sudden silence, staring at the blank screen. Bryce's face is still there in my mind. Bryce, who harassed me. Who threatened me. Who cornered me at the spa.
Bryce, who will never walk again because Nathan decided he was a threat.
My stomach turns. This is real. This actually happened. Nathan did this.
A demonstration. A warning. A promise.
You're protected now, the message reads. But the protection feels like a threat of its own.
***
Lucy is waiting on a bench in Central Park, her usually perfect composure fractured by worry. She stands when she sees me approaching, and the relief on her face is quickly replaced by something harder.
"Eve." She doesn't move to hug me. "You've been avoiding my calls."
"I've been busy," I say, sitting down on the bench. The lie tastes bitter, and from the look on her face, she knows it.
"Busy." She sits beside me, but there's distance between us now—physical and otherwise. "With Nathan Hale. The man who somehow saved our company overnight. The man who now apparently owns it. The man you're living with."
Her voice gets sharper with each sentence, and I can hear the questions she's not asking. The fears.
"Lucy—"
"Did you know?" She turns to face me fully, and I see the hurt in her eyes. "Did you know he was going to swoop in like some white knight and take over everything? Is that why you disappeared for two days without telling anyone where you were?"
