I reach for a heavy, silver lever set into the stone wall. With a low, mechanical groan that vibrates through the soles of our feet, the massive, domed ceiling begins to split. The heavy lead panels slide back with a rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum, revealing the sky.
The roof doesn’t just open; it vanishes.
Wendy gasps, her hand flying to her throat as the cold, crisp air of the Chicago winter rushes in. But it’s not the cold she’s reacting to. It’s the stars. Away from the glare of the North End, perched atop the highest point of my fortress, the universe looks like it’s been spilled across a black velvet cloth just for her. Thousands of diamonds, sharp and brilliant, burning with a cold, ancient fire.
She stands in the centre of the room, her face tilted upward, the starlight catching the tears that are alreadystarting to well in her eyes. The obsidian of her dress seems to drink in the darkness, leaving only her pale, glowing skin.
“It’s… it’s beautiful,” she breathes, her voice fracturing. She looks small. She looks like the girl who walked out of the fire, but for the first time, she’s not looking at the smoke. She’s looking at the light.
I step up behind her, my chest pressing against her back, my arms wrapping around her waist to anchor her. I can feel her heart hammering a frantic, rhythmic beat against my forearms.
“I bought this estate for the view,” I whisper into her hair, my lips grazing the nape of her neck. “Most people look down at the city and see power. I look up and see the only thing I can’t touch. Until now.”
She leans back into me, her head resting on my shoulder as we both stare into the abyss. I feel her hand come up, her fingers trembling as she covers mine, interlacing our digits. It’s a slow, quiet surrender.
“You’re trying to make me love the cage, Peter,” she whispers, a tiny, sad smile touching her lips.
“No, Darling,” I mutter, my grip tightening, my cock beginning to ache with a heavy, worshipful throb as I feel her warmth through the velvet. “I’m trying to show you that when you’re with me, the cage is the only place where the stars actually shine.”
She turns in my arms, her eyes wide and filled with a shimmering, terrifying awe. For a second, the suspicion is gone. The hate is a ghost. There is only the hunger, and the realisation that the man who stole the world from her just gave her the galaxy.
I’ve spent a lifetime orchestrating every movement,every breath, and every shadow in this city, but nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for the way she turns in my arms.
The awe in her eyes isn’t for the stars anymore. It’s for me.
She reaches up, her fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck with a sudden, violent hunger that catches the air in my throat. Before I can draw a breath, she pulls me down. Her mouth crashes into mine, and it’s not the tentative, broken kiss from before. This is a claim. This is a flag being planted in the dirt of my soul.
It’s fucking scorching. She tastes like the vintage wine and the cold winter air, and she’s kissing me with a desperation that says she’s done fighting the gravity of us.
I let out a low, guttural growl, my hands finding her hips to pull her flush against the ache in my trousers, but she’s already moving. Her hands leave my hair and fly to the buttons of my shirt, her movements frantic, her knuckles brushing against the skin of my chest. She’s ripping at the silk, her breath coming in hot, jagged gasps against my lips.
I find myself doing something I haven’t done in years. I laugh.
It’s not my usual dark, chuckle. It’s light. It’s genuine. It’s the sound of a man who just realised he’s been outmanoeuvred by the very thing he sought to conquer.
“Easy, Darling,” I chuckle against her mouth, my hands coming up to catch her wrists, though I’m not doing a damn thing to stop her. “The dress cost more than a penthouse, and you’re going to give yourself a heart attack before we even get to the good part.”
“Shut up, Peter,” she snarls, finally popping the lastbutton. She shoves the shirt off my shoulders, her eyes roaming over my ink and the scar on my neck with a predatory glint. “You wanted me to admit it? Fine. I’m the girl from the fire. And right now, I want to see you burn.”
I throw my head back and laugh again, the sound echoing up into the infinite black of the open roof. God, she’s magnificent. She’s small and soft and covered in obsidian velvet, and she’s currently stripping the King of Chicago bare under the gaze of the universe.
“You’re a menace,” I grin, my hands sliding down to the zipper of her gown. “A beautiful, terrifying little menace.”
I pick her up, her legs immediately locking around my waist, her hands fisting in my hair as she pulls my head back down. She’s claiming me—every inch, every secret, every drop of blood. And as I carry her toward the massive silk-covered lounger in the centre of the room, the stars above us seem dim compared to the fire she’s finally letting me see.
I drop my hands.
I actually hold them up in a gesture of mock surrender, my back hitting the cold brass rail of the telescope. The air nips at my bare chest, but I don’t feel the cold. I only feel the heat radiating off her. She’s standing there in the centre of the observatory, the starlight washing over the obsidian velvet like liquid mercury.
“Oh,” I rasp, a slow, grin spreading across my face. “It’s like that, is it?”
“Don’t move, Peter,” she commands. Her voice isn’t shaking anymore. It’s low, steady, and dangerous. “You’vespent so much time watching me. Now you’re going to learn what happens when I decide to be seen.”
She reaches for the back of the dress. The sound of the zipper is a slow, agonising hiss that cuts through the quiet of the room. It’s the only sound in the world. She doesn’t let the dress fall—not yet. She keeps her eyes locked on mine, challenging me to breathe, challenging me to break the rules she’s just rewritten.
She hooks her thumbs into the plunging neckline. Slowly—so fucking slowly it feels like a physical torture—she peels the velvet down. First her shoulders, pale and perfect, then the swell of her breasts. She isn’t wearing a bra. The cold air hits her, and I watch her nipples harden into tight, dark peaks under the starlight.
My cock thrums, a heavy, painful pulse against my zipper. I want to lunge. I want to bridge the three feet between us and devour her. But she holds up a single finger, stopping me dead.
