KATE
Astorm rolled in fast, mean, and loud enough to rattle the windows. Wind howled between the neighboring buildings, bending rain sideways until it slammed into the glass in never-ending sheets. Lightning cracked across the sky, turning the apartment a whitish blue for a split second before plunging it back into shadow.
I stood barefoot in my kitchen, my fingers curled around the granite countertop as I watched all hell break loose outside. I’d grown up in high-rises, but while Manhattan storms were dramatic, they were insulated by density and softened by the constant hum of a city that never truly slept.
Chicago was different. It felt more wide open, like my building was more exposed. The wind had room to build momentum before it attacked, making it feel like the storm was sitting directly on top of me.
It was almost ten, and after such a rough, emotional day, all I’d wanted was a glass of wine and the tub. I hadn’t even cared which tub—bath or ice cream, or ice cream in the bath. Now, however, I was stuck staring at the storm, wondering how worried I should be about the buildingandthe shit show my life had become.
My mother had called me repeatedly this morning, refusing to give up until I’d finally answered, her voice already wobbling in panic before I’d even said hello.
“Katie, sweetheart. Please don’t shut us out,” she’d said, her words tumbling over each other. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be, but please don’t cut us off. I can’t stand the thought of that.”
I’d pressed my fingers into my temple, pacing my apartment while she spoke. I hadn’t yelled or cried. I’d just listened while she spiraled, apologizing without quite apologizing and justifying without fully committing to the defense.
But the thing was, as the days had crawled on, ever closer to sealing the deal on our marriage and a multi-billion-dollar acquisition, I’d started feeling more and more certain that this was the right thing to do. My rational brain understood it perfectly. To a T.
It was smart on Hinds’ end. He was a family friend and he wanted the business to stay with people he trusted. He wanted it tied to blood and to the kind of guarantee that contracts alone couldn’t secure.
My family didn’t have the financial leverage the Westwoods did, but together, we could more than swing it. Dad knew Hinds’ financials like the back of his hand. The Westwoods would need his expertise, and mine, to keep the company as strong and stable as it was now, but we didn’t have the money to do it all alone.
All day, I’d been going over the numbers and logistics, convincing myself I was doing the right thing while at the same time, weighing it against the sacrifice I was making.
Because even though no one knew this, Iwassacrificing something. In fact, some people would even think I was sacrificingeverything, because what I was sacrificing was love.
Real, solid love built on years of knowing someone. Years of stitching two lives together across time zones, deadlines, and expectations. On the other hand, there was Nate.
Nate, who never smiled at me.
Nate, who infuriated me so thoroughly sometimes that I wanted to scream—and had, face buried in a pillow like a teenager avoiding consequences.
But not entirely because I hated him.
And that was the problem.
I was attracted to him. Deeply. Viscerally.
That was the worst part of this entire nightmare. The way he moved, the controlled power in his shoulders, and the quiet intensity in his stare. The sharp cut of his jaw when he clenched his teeth like he was swallowing words he didn’t want to say.
While I would never,everadmit this out loud, sometimes, I was downright hungry at the sight of him and I couldn’t even blame myself. Nate was an insanely attractive man—and he wasall mangiven what I’d seen hiding beneath that towel and those sweats—and it’d beenyearssince anyone had touched me. Since I’d touched someone else.
Literal, actual years.
All because I was loyal to a fault and for the last few years I’d poured every ounce of emotional energy into another man. Into something I believed was real, steady, and safe.
And now…
Lightning split the sky again, close enough that the thunder followed instantly, blue light exploding through the apartment. It flooded the room, turning every surface electric and unreal.
I screamed, the sound tearing out of me before I could stop it, startled and embarrassingly loud. Three heavy thuds slammed through the living room immediately after and my heart launched into my throat.
Another thud. Harder.
The building is collapsing.
That was my first thought, born of pure, irrational panic. The floor tilted under my bare feet as I spun toward the hallway. Every muscle locked as I braced myself for the sickening lurch of structural failure.
Another pounding rap rattled the front door in its frame, and suddenly, I realized I wasn’t in the middle of an urban disaster. The building wasn’t collapsing. Someone was just banging on my door like a prick.
