He makes me want everything.
And that scares the hell out of me.
Because I know men like him don't give you forever. They give younow.
And I’m already in too deep.
But when he says, “Let’s go to your room. I want to fuck you properly.” I don’t say no.
19
Lorenzo
I leave Elizabeth’s room before dawn, but not before I pause at the edge of the bed and just look at her.
She’s curled beneath the sheets, one bare shoulder exposed where the blanket has slipped. The golden strands of her hair spill across the pillow like silk, catching the early morning light that filters through the curtains. Her face is peaceful, softened in sleep with her lashes resting gently against flushed cheeks. Her lips, still slightly parted, carry the remnants of a dream or maybe a whisper that never made it into words. One hand is tucked beneath her chin, the other resting where I held her.
She looks untouched by the world in this moment. Fragile. Beautiful, but not aware of it. And entirely mine.
For a man like me who’s known only blood, loyalty, and obligation this is dangerous.
Because looking at her like this makes me want things I was never meant to have.
A quiet life.
A warm bed.
A woman who looks at me like I’m more than the empire I built with blood on my hands.
I tear my gaze away and slip out before the house begins to stir. But the imprint of her lingers. On my skin. On my sheets. And somewhere far deeper than I’m ready to admit.
The penthouse is quiet, save for the low hum of heat through the vents and the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. Staff won’t arrive for another hour.
In my pocket, her birth control packet presses against the inside of my pants as light as paper, as heavy as sin.
I slide into my bedroom and close the door.
I pull out the pack and flip it open. The pills are pink, organized in neat little rows. The one I’m going to put in her bathroom match but hold only placebo pills. Dr. Lars was quick to respond to my text, helping me put this plan into action in the early hours of the morning.
She won’t notice. Not until it’s too late.
I go to my bathroom, jaw tight as I drop the pills into the trash.
I’m not doing this out of spite. It’s protection. Permanence.
She wants to act like this is temporary, like we’re a fling that ends when she boards a plane to Kansas City. But I know better.
She belongs to me. And soon there’ll be no walking away.
Not when she’s carrying my heir.
I make my way back to her room and slip the placebos into her bathroom cabinet. The moment I shut the door, something sharp and undeniable claws up inside me. A need I don’t bother trying to fight.
I go back to her.
She’s asleep on her side, curled in the blankets like something soft and warm meant to be held. I slide into the bed behind her, fitting my body to hers. She melts into me without waking.
God.
