She shook her head against him, her voice muffled but firm. “No. I need to do this. I need to walk in there on my own terms and say goodbye to that life myself. There’s not much left there that I want anyway. The rest… they can donate it.” She pulled back, swiping at her cheeks with the backs of her hands,a gesture that was both vulnerable and determined. “I want to start fresh.”
“Then we start fresh,” he vowed, his voice a low rumble of absolute certainty. “Tomorrow, we replace everything they tried to give you with one of your own choosing. Anything you want. Everything you need.”
A small smile touched her lips. “I’d like that.”
“But tonight,” he said, smoothing her hair, his touch infinitely gentle, “we rest. It’s late. You’re exhausted.” He guided her away from the cold marble, through the living room where city lights glittered like fallen stars, and into the sanctuary of his bedroom—theirbedroom now.
He helped her undress with a reverence that had everything to do with care, peeling away the elegant clothes like layers of a past she was shedding. He did the same. Then they curled together in the center of the large bed, her back fitted perfectly to his chest, and his arms a fortress around her. He nuzzled her hair, breathing in her scent.
His.
As her breathing evened out into the rhythms of sleep, Leander lay awake. A silent, ferocious vow etched itself into his soul, sharper than any contract.
I will spend every day of forever loving you. Unconditionally. I will show you your worth in every stone we lay, in every sunrise we share, and in every quiet moment between the storms. You will never doubt that you are cherished. You will always have a safe place to land. Here. With me.
His lion echoed the promise with a deep, internal roar that vibrated through his bones and into hers. He held her tighter, pouring his strength, his promise, and his endless devotion into the warmth of her sleeping form.
Tomorrow would come, but for now, she was safe. She was home. She was his.
SEVENTEEN
CAMILLE
The predawn light painted the penthouse bedroom in shades of slate and silver. Camille tried to slip from the bed with a thief’s stealth, but the warm, possessive weight of Leander’s arm around her waist tightened instinctively as she moved.
“Leaving already?” His voice was a sleep-rough rumble that vibrated against her spine.
She reluctantly pulled away and stood up, padding to the walk-in closet. Inside, her own clothes now hung alongside his meticulously ordered suits—a tangible merging of their worlds. She chose a tailored sleeveless black dress, its severe lines a kind of armor.
“I want to get to my parents’ place and back to the office before the workday gets into full swing. A quick surgical strike.”
The mattress groaned as he moved, propping his head on his hand. Even in the dim light, his green gaze was laser-sharp. “I can come with you.”
“You have an emergency board meeting to run,” she countered, stepping into the dress and pulling it up. “You need to tell them you’re making me your business partner,remember? That’s more important than standing guard while I pack a suitcase.”
He watched the line of her back as she zipped it up. “It is important. But you are important too.”
She turned to face him. “I know. But this is something I need to do alone. It’s the final signature on the divorce papers from my old life. I need to be the one who signs it.”
She walked back to the bed, the scent of him wrapping around her. She bent down, brushing her lips against his. The kiss was quick but seared with the promise of later.
“I’ll see you at the office in a few hours. Go convince a room full of skeptical men that I’m their best investment.”
His hand came up, his fingers tangling briefly in her blonde hair, holding her close for a heartbeat longer. “They will soon realize that. Once I lay out your vision, once they see how your mind merges with mine for the company’s future, they’d be fools not to.” He released her, his expression turning serious. “Call me. The second anything feels off.”
“I will. But I’m just grabbing clothes. What could possibly go wrong with that?” She gave his arm a final squeeze, then turned before the magnetic pull of him—of the bed, of his safety—could convince her to stay.
Once out in the crisp morning air, hailing a cab, the mate bond stretched like a taut band. It was a physical ache in her chest. She took a steadying breath, focusing on the task at hand.
This is about closure. My closure.
The cab ride was a silent montage of a city waking up. Her thoughts, however, churned. Last night’s conversation with her mother replayed in brutal clarity. Not a single question about Camille’s happiness. No maternal curiosity about the engagement or the new career path that lit her daughter’s soul on fire. Just cold calculus about social capital and tarnishedimages. The sadness was a dull, familiar ache, but layered over it now was a clean, sharp anger.
A mother’s love shouldn’t be conditional.
Arriving at the towering building that had been her gilded cage, relief washed over her when the doorman confirmed her parents were out for the morning.
Good. Clean. Quick.
