He cupped her face between his hands and looked deep into her brown eyes. Those eyes he wanted to get lost in forever. “Be mine. My girlfriend.”
She didn’t speak. Her response was to lean closer and kiss him with everything she had. The heat of her mouth burned away what was left of his doubt. Fear couldn’t get to them now. Nobody would hurt her ever again.
When she pulled away she was smiling, her eyes glinting. “You’ve convinced me, Gabriel. I’m all yours.” She paused. “Is this the first case you’ve ever lost?”
He laughed. “Are you kidding me? How does this count as a loss?”
“The castle is mine.”
His phone vibrated and he checked his messages. “Kyle has signed over the castle.”
“That means it’s time for me to sign,” she said. “And time for you to lose.”
“Well, I probably didn’t make partner,” he said, laughing.
“That’s what you wanted?”
“No. That’s what my parents wanted.” It was time for him to live for himself and not just his parents. He couldn’t keep living Jay’s life anymore. “What I want is to quit my firm, shack up in this castle with you, and never leave.”
She wrapped her arms around him, making his heart race like crazy. He had survived and gotten the most incredible woman he had ever met. As she kissed him again, Gabriel realized that losing for the first time had been worth it.
THE END
About Lexy Timms
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"Love should be something that lasts forever, not is lost forever."
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MANAGING THE BOSSES is an international bestselling series dipping into the lives of Alex Reid and Jamie Connors. Can a secretary really fall for her billionaire boss?
Knight in Manhattan
M.C. Cerny
In the city that never sleeps, one man is the never-ending night. For the woman he is fated to save, it is only the beginning.
Copyright
Knight in Manhattan
Copyright ©2020 M.C. Cerny
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
Prologue
New Year’s Eve - NYC
BASH
New Year’s Eve was a real bitch for the undead.
The amber colored whiskey in my glass tasted like bitter water inside the crystal tumbler, or at least how I imagined it might taste. It wasn’t my taste buds that were affected as much as it was my state of mind. My fingers numbed holding the cut crystal with enough effort so as not to crack it. I swirled the liquid around the rim listening to the echo of whiskey rocks made from lava, perhaps even older than myself clink against the glass.
I didn’t know.
The rocks came from Iceland and that place was like a newborn screaming of fire and ice, unpredictable, barren, and soulless like myself. I had a fondness for the north end of the island country in winter. Nothing but grey ice and the stormy sea for as far as the eye could gaze. Not to mention the delicious lure of natives with Viking blood and a hint of magic that spanned longer than my turning lifetime.
Unfortunately, in this century, I’d chosen to live like a recluse inside my brownstone mansion that faced Central Park West. I’d filled the walls with priceless paintings and antiques, but nothing sparked joy. If Marie Kondo came to my place, she could fill a museum, a treasure trove for Aladdin, but my heart would remain stone cold.
Tonight was typically another night in an endless cycle of nights. One after the other as the Earth spun rotations around a dying sun. Mortals didn’t feel the slow drag as their lifespans where short, a mere spec in the sands of time. My kind, and the world of supernaturals felt it with the diminishing of our magic. Bites turned humans less and less, and killed more often than not leaving us lonely if we had beating hearts to feel the pain of isolation.
But tonight was different, beside the exploding fireworks and chants of people walking down the street, drunk and exuberant for a new year, another chance to fuck it up. Sound permeated the stone and mortar walls thanks to my exceptional hearing. Nothing seemed capable of soundproofing and subduing the cheering idiots. My plebian neighbors were throwing a party.
Amateurs.
I’d partied with Napoleon, Capone, Churchill, and a few questionable presidents better left unsaid. The jokers next door must have been part of some fraternity living it up in real-estate they had no business owning. Rich assholes with even richer asshole parents who felt they were entitled to the world, whiskey, and women. If they only knew the power coursing through me could bleed them dry quicker than a shattered decanter and a snap of my fingers.
I rolled my eyes focused on shutting them out and flicked my fingers starting the fire in my fireplace. I was lucky that the witch who gifted me my daylight tattoo also tasted delicious and of fire. Once she branded me, I siphoned her elemental magic as my own. The parting gift of her lifeforce allowed me to make the flames burn bright, though they struggled to warm the drafty mansion.
Boredom was a terminal condition for my kind.
The party kept
