"No." I step closer, boxing her in against the wall of the elevator. I rest my hands on the metal paneling on either side of her head. "You are not my consultant. You are living in my apartment. You are rebuilding your client base. And you just told the largest newspaper in the Midwest that you love me."
She looks up at me, the irony fading from her face.
"I lied to the newspaper," she whispers.
"I know."
I lower my head, my mouth hovering inches from hers. The air between us is thick, heavy with the reality of what we just did. We didn't just survive Simon’s attack. We locked ourselves into the lie permanently. There is no going back now.
"But you didn't lie to me," I murmur, my lips brushing against hers.
"No," she breathes, her hands sliding up my chest to grip my shoulders. "I didn't."
I kiss her as the elevator hits the ground floor.
The war is still raging outside these doors. Preston will be furious. Simon will be humiliated.
But as I pull her against me, feeling the absolute, undeniable reality of her body in my arms, I know they have already lost.
CHAPTER 19
AUDREY
The elevator doors slide open with a soft, metallic whisper.
Malcolm doesn't step back immediately. He keeps his hands planted on the wall on either side of my head, his chest rising and falling in a slow, controlled rhythm that completely contradicts the dark, chaotic energy in his eyes.
I reach up, my fingers brushing against the lapel of his suit jacket. The fabric is rough, but the heat radiating from him is absolute.
"We should probably get out of the elevator," I murmur, my voice sounding entirely too breathless. "Unless your security team monitors the cameras in here."
"Grant monitors the cameras," Malcolm says, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "And Grant knows better than to interrupt."
He finally drops his hands, stepping back to give me space. The cold air of the foyer rushes in to fill the gap between us. I walk out of the elevator, my boots quiet against the concrete floor.
The penthouse is completely dark. The city lights from the living room windows cast long, sharp shadows across the furniture. It feels like a sanctuary. An hour ago, I thought this place was going to turn into a prison. I thought Simon had found the key to dismantle everything.
Instead, Malcolm just reinforced the walls.
I walk toward the kitchen island, dropping my phone onto the marble counter. The screen is cracked from when I dropped it in the boutique, a spiderweb of shattered glass right across the center.
Malcolm walks in behind me. He shrugs out of his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of a barstool, and moves to the refrigerator. He pulls out two bottles of water, sets one in front of me, and opens his own.
"So," I say, leaning against the counter. I trace the crack on my phone screen with my index finger. "I am officially an unemployed woman living in her fake-but-now-real fiancé's apartment."
"You are an architect who is currently restructuring her client base," Malcolm corrects smoothly, taking a drink of water. "And the engagement is real. The contract is void. The legal department at the Tribune verified the dissolution document before we even reached the lobby."
I look up at him. "You really had Grant draft that three days ago?"
"I had him draft it the morning after you moved in."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He sets the water bottle down. He doesn't look away from me, his expression completely unreadable. "I told you in the elevator, Audrey. If you knew the contract was void, you would have felt obligated to leave. You were operating under the assumption that you owed me a performance in exchange for your company. I removed the obligation."
"But you didn't tell me you removed it," I point out, crossing my arms. "Which means you wanted me to stay, but you didn't want to ask me to stay."
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
