"I gave up a prison," he says harshly.
He closes the distance between us, grabbing my wrists and pulling my hands away from my face. He doesn't let me step back this time. He holds my wrists firmly against his chest.
"Do you think I wanted to spend the rest of my life burying Simon’s mistakes?" Malcolm demands, his dark eyes burning into mine. "Do you think I enjoyed sitting at that dining table,pretending I didn't want to tear my father apart with my bare hands? Vance Security was a cage. I built it, but it was still a cage."
"You could have fought him," I argue, my voice cracking. "You could have found another way. You didn't have to fall on your sword for me."
"There was no other way." Malcolm’s grip on my wrists tightens. "If I fought him, it would have taken months. The media would have destroyed you in the crossfire. Simon would have leaked the files. You would have spent the next year answering questions about a syndicate you didn't even know existed."
He lets go of my wrists, his hands sliding up my arms to grip my shoulders.
"I am not going to let anyone look at you and see a liability," he says, his voice dropping to a fierce, broken whisper. "I am not going to let them erase you again."
A tear spills over my lashes, hot and fast, tracking down my cheek.
I have spent my entire life trying to be self-sufficient. I built my company so I wouldn't have to rely on anyone. When Simon took it, I thought my life was over. I thought I was weak.
But looking at Malcolm, I realize the truth.
He didn't save me because I am weak. He saved me because he loves me.
He hasn't said the words. He probably doesn't even know how to say them. He speaks in contracts, threats, and absolute violence. But standing here in his office, having just burned his entire world to the ground to keep me safe, the truth is deafening.
I reach up, my hands framing his face.
"You are an idiot," I whisper, my voice thick with tears.
Malcolm closes his eyes, leaning heavily into my touch. "I am aware."
"What are you going to do now?" I ask, my thumbs brushing lightly over his cheekbones. "You don't have a job."
"I have enough personal capital to buy a small island nation," he murmurs, opening his eyes. The dark, predatory amusement is back, cutting through the heavy emotional exhaustion. "I think we will survive."
"I'm serious, Malcolm."
"So am I." He slides his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him. "I am going to sleep for fourteen hours. And then, I am going to watch you rebuild your firm."
"My firm." I let out a wet, shaky laugh. "I don't even have a name for it yet."
"You have an office. You have a desk. You will figure it out."
He kisses me. It is slow, deep, and completely grounding. The panic that spiked in my chest when I heard the phone call dissolves, replaced by a fierce, undeniable loyalty.
Simon was wrong. Malcolm isn't going to ruin me.
We pull back at the same time. The silence in the office is no longer heavy. It feels like peace.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of the sweatpants.
I frown, pulling back slightly. "Who is calling at one in the morning?"
I dig the phone out of the pocket. The screen is still cracked, making it difficult to read the caller ID, but the name flashes brightly enough for both of us to see it.
Vivian.
I look at Malcolm. The peace vanishes instantly. Vivian knows we were at the party. She wouldn't call unless the crisis management team had flagged something catastrophic.
I hit accept and put it on speaker.
