The penthouse is silent as I move through it, my steps measured, controlled. I close the bedroom door softly behind me, but not before I look back.
She’s still asleep.
Curled into my sheets. Bare. Unaware.
Little Heaven.
Mine.
The thought lands heavy and electric in my chest, thrilling and terrifying all at once. It feels like temptation and confession wrapped into one. Like something I should never have let myself claim.
Tonight,night, I finally gave in.
I let myself want her without calculation. Without contingency. I shut the world out, the danger, the work, my father, and for a few stolen hours, it felt good. It felt like stepping into warmth after living too long in the cold.
Too good.
Because now there’s a weight sitting low in my gut, dark and unyielding, telling me I’ve done something unforgivable, not to myself, but to her.
I didn’t just let her close.
I may have condemned her.
Condemned her to a life of watching shadows, of second-guessing footsteps, of being seen by people who don’t forgive attachments. Worse, I may have tied myself to losing yet another person to the world I was born into.
The idea tightens around my throat.
There’s only one way to make sure she survives this.
One way to ensure that choosing me doesn’t become the reason she’s destroyed.
I have to end this at the source.
And whatever is inside that file, whatever my father is so desperate to keep buried, I need it to be the key.
Because if it isn’t…
Then last night wasn’t a beginning.
It was a mistake I’ll never be allowed to undo.
I’m sitting at the breakfast bar, a glass of whisky cradled in my hand, when Jaxon lets himself in like he owns the place.
“Wow,” he drawls, letting out a low whistle as he takes in the penthouse. “Didn’t realise you were planning something this intimate. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble just for me.”
I don’t look at him. “Shut up,” I mutter. “You told me to stay out of the city. So I did.”
The humour drains from his face as he clocks the details, the open bedroom door, the stillness, the way somethingchangedin the air.
“Don’t downplay this,” he says slowly. “You and I both know you’ve never brought anyone here. Not like this. Not anyone who wasn’t me or Keys.”
Heheads for the fridge, grabs a beer, but he doesn’t open it right away. His eyes flick back toward the hallway.
“This girl,” he continues, quieter now. “She’s not just a date, is she?”
“She’s more than that,” I say. It’s all I give him.
That’s when he notices the handbag.
