The words hang in the quiet air of the kitchen.
I spent sixteen years standing between my father and the consequences of his actions. I built an empire to protect him. And in the end, it only took one woman with a red marker and a terrifying lack of hesitation to burn it all to the ground.
"Are you okay?" Audrey asks.
She turns around in my arms, resting her hands flat against my chest. She looks up at me, the golden flecks in her eyes searching my face for any trace of regret.
"I am fine," I say.
"Malcolm." She slides her hands up to my shoulders. "You lost your company. You lost your entire career. You’re allowed to be angry about it."
"I am not angry." I look down at her, my hands tightening slightly on her waist. "I told you, Audrey. The company was a cage. I don't miss the cage."
"What do you miss?"
"Nothing." I reach up, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "I have exactly what I want."
It is the absolute truth. I don't miss the board meetings. I don't miss the encrypted servers. I don't miss the constant, suffocating pressure of anticipating the next disaster. For the first time in my life, the silence in my head is actually quiet.
"You need a hobby," she says, a faint, teasing smile touching her lips. "You can't just sit on my mustard yellow pillows and read legal briefs all day."
"I am managing my investments."
"You are hovering." She pokes me in the chest. "Go buy a boat. Or a sports team. Do whatever it is retired billionaires do."
"I am thirty years old. I am not retired."
"Then what are you?"
I look at the woman standing in my arms. I look at the vintage diamond resting on her left hand.
"I am an investor," I murmur, leaning down until my mouth is inches from hers. "And my primary asset requires constant supervision."
Audrey laughs, a bright, genuine sound that completely fills the massive space of the penthouse. It is a sound that didn't exist in this apartment four months ago.
"I don't need supervision," she whispers, her hands sliding to the back of my neck.
"You threatened a client with a structural collapse five minutes ago."
"It was a factual observation."
I kiss her. The banter dissolves instantly, replaced by the heavy, grounding intimacy that has become the foundation of our daily routine. I pull her flush against me, my hands sliding down to grip her hips. She opens her mouth for me, her fingers tangling in my hair.
The sharp, chaotic adrenaline of the war is gone, but the physical pull between us hasn't faded. If anything, the absence of thedanger has only made it stronger. I don't have to worry about looking over my shoulder anymore. I only have to look at her.
My phone vibrates on the marble counter, a harsh, buzzing sound that breaks the quiet.
I ignore it. I deepen the kiss, walking her backward until her lower back hits the edge of the island.
The phone vibrates again. And then a third time.
Audrey pulls back slightly, breathless, her hands resting against my chest. "You should answer that. It might be Grant."
I let out a slow, rough exhale. I reach blindly for the phone, keeping my other arm wrapped securely around her waist. I look at the screen.
It isn't Grant.
It is a secure email from a sender I haven't spoken to in four months.
