Page 66 of Take Me Darkly

“You built me a glass studio,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Technically, my contractor, Tony Marcelli built it. I just dictated the execution.”

She set the pipe back into its bracket with agonizing care, as if a sudden movement might shatter the reality of the room. She pressed her lips together, her chest rising on a shaky breath as she took in every detail.

“Why?” she asked, the word heavy with disbelief.

I closed the distance between us, stopping inches from her frame.

“Because I believe this is what you were meant to do,” I said. “You were meant to create. If you must remain protected behind these walls for now, I want you whole. This space belongs entirely to you.”

“I haven’t exactly been a prisoner. I’m just hiding.”

“You haven’t been permitted to leave,” I countered flatly. “To a man like me, that’s a cage. I’m just giving you room to breathe.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. She searched my face, seeing the fierce, possessive intent behind my words, and then she closed the gap between us. Her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, her face pressing flush against my chest.

I folded my arms around her, pulling her body tight against mine, burying my face in her hair.

“Thank you,” she whispered, the words muffled against my shirt.

I pressed my mouth to the crown of her head, holding her tight. I wanted to tell her right then—tell her that she owned me, and say the three words I couldn’t say. Perhaps if I held her like this for long enough, she’d say it for me.

My phone vibrated violently against my hip. I ignored it. It buzzed again seconds later.

Annoyed, I drew back slightly, pulling the phone from my pocket.

“This better be important, Zeke.”

“It’s Mac Owens, boss,” Zeke said, his tone grim and clipped. “Cornerstone Tower security just flagged him. He was loitering in the main lobby. My team escorted him off the premises ten minutes ago, but he was recording video on his phone.”

A cold, lethal fury instantly crystallized in my blood. Owens was supposed to be chasing false leads. The bastard was persistent—not brilliant, but relentless enough to be dangerous.

“Cornerstone is Alexander’s building,” I said, keeping my voice carefully flat. “He could be hunting Alex again.”

“He wasn’t asking about Stone,” Zeke countered flatly. “He was holding up a high-resolution shot of Serena from Lucca, asking the desk staff if they’d seen her.”

Fuck.

I glanced at Serena. She was standing by the annealer, her fingers gently touching the control panel, a faint, genuine smile gracing her lips. I refused to let this destroy the moment for her.

“Are you in your office?” I asked Zeke.

“No. I’m at Cornerstone Tower.”

“I’ll come to you.” I ended the call and tucked the phone away, forcing my expression into a calm, controlled mask as I faced Serena. “I need to step out briefly.”

Her smile faded slightly, replaced by immediate suspicion. “Right now?”

“A minor administrative issue at Cornerstone Tower,” I lied smoothly, the deception rolling off my tongue with practiced ease. “Zeke needs a physical signature on a security clearance.”

She looked at me suspiciously, as if she wanted to question me further.

“Alright,” she said finally. She turned back toward the furnace and bent to check the temperature gauge. “I’m going to stay here. Since this is lit, I might start playing around.”

I watched her from the doorway, taking in the sight of her standing in the warm glow of the studio, looking alive for the first time in weeks. “Don’t push your shoulder too much.”

“I’ll be careful, boss,” she teased softly.