One traffic jam and an unexpected detour later, we finally pulled up in front of my building. He cut the engine, attention climbing the facade—old brick, ivy threading up the walls, wrought-iron balconies catching the afternoon light.
“This is…” He trailed off, sounding almost surprised. “Not what I expected.”
“I picked it for the charm,” I said, more defensive than I meant.
He looked back at me, face softening. “I love it.”
Behind us, Candace reached for the handle and climbed out. The door shut with a heavythud. Her footsteps clipped away across the sidewalk, leaving the car in her wake.
Damien turned his attention to me. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay,” I said, hoping it was true. “But I feel bad for Candace. Garrett—”
“Is an ass,” he finished.
A huff of laughter broke free. “Yeah. He really is.”
He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “I can see why they have so many problems.”
“I can’t get her away from him,” I admitted. “I’ve been trying for years.”
The lines in his face softened. “Sometimes it’s hard to leave toxic situations. Trauma bonding and all that fun shit.” His mouth tipped in a wry not-quite smile.
“You have a mouth on you, Mr.Holt,” I teased, matching his tone before I could stop myself. “Read did, too.”
He let that land and chose not to push it. “Got it from my mom. She swears like a sailor.”
“I thought you said Rosie was a sweet little old thing.”
“That’s what Read said,” he hedged, then grinned. “I say she’s an unhinged Italian woman throwing curse words around like garlic.”
My laugh broke loose, startling in the quiet. A slow grin tugging at his mouth.
“You have the most beautiful laugh.”
Blush rushed to my cheeks. “Thanks,” I muttered, ducking my head.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The space between us felt thick with everything new—and everything still broken.
Before I had time to stop them, the words slipped out. “Would you… like to come in?”
He stilled completely, caught halfway. Something tense and fragile pulled taut between us. My pulse kicked hard, a sharp jolt of fear ricocheting through me.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I’d like that very much.”
Chapter 16
***
Emma
What the hell was I thinking?
Inviting him into my home days after he’d wrecked me.
His breath stayed shallow beside me as the elevator climbed—floor by floor—carrying us closer to my world. My space. The weight of that landed harder now than when the invitation had slipped out. My pulse hadn’t leveled once. Suddenly the idea of hiring a housekeeper didn’t sound that ridiculous.
“This is it.” The doors slid open, revealing my apartment in its most honest light. Pillows askew on the couch. Shoes left beside the elevator. I nudged one aside with my foot, sliding it under a coat that had fallen from its perch.
