“I thought I was supposed to be the one groveling, and here you are, making me feel like a goddamn king.”
“Because you are, baby. I’m just polishing your crown.”
“When you say things like that, you make me want to believe them.”
“Then I’ll keep saying them until you do. After, too.”
He kissed her then, a tentative exploring that quickly morphed into something hotter.
“Come on, let’s get out of here before Stammler comes in and yells at both of us.”
She grabbed her purse, her flowers and Sebastian’s hand and they walked out into the early New York spring, ready to face the world and whatever might come next.
Together.
THE END
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The night of the home invasion
Willa couldn’t seem to stop shaking and it wasn’t because of the cold. Ice pellets slapped against the windows of the black SUV, and the wind was frigid, but the cold wasn’t the cause of her trembling. No, that was entirely because less than an hour ago, she’d thought she was going to die.
She couldn’t stop replaying it over and over in her mind—the men with guns in her apartment, the absolutely paralyzing fear that her life was about to end—but it didn’t feel real. That couldn’t have actually happened. There was no way that armed men had invaded the apartment she shared with her best friend Kayla and threatened to kill them both because they were looking for Kayla’s boyfriend, Sebastian.
But it had happened, along with Sebastian’s brothers Max and Lucian busting in to save them.
Dispose of the roommate.
She shook a little harder and Max turned up the heat in the SUV. They’d dropped Kayla off at Lucian’s, waiting there with her until he’d returned. She could’ve stayed there too, but when Max had offered to take her back to his place, she’d agreed, wanting to give Kayla and Sebastian a little space.
Max, who she’d frantically texted “911 home invasion pls help” when then men had burst in. They’d told her and Kayla that they’d kill them if they called the police and she hadn’t been willing to take a chance on that. But she’d needed to text someone, to try to get help somehow, and given that the men had said they were looking for Sebastian, she’d figured that Max was as good a person as any.
Max, who was her boss. Who was grumpy as hell. Who was so sexy that she often lost her train of thought around him. Not that he’d ever given any indication that he felt the same way about her. He most definitely hadn’t, making her insane crush on him completely one-sided, and therefore a little embarrassing.
They drove in silence and as the seat warmer worked its magic, she felt some of the tension ease from her muscles, her trembling subsiding. He turned into a parking garage below an impressive building in SoHo, swiping a card he’d pulled from the center console for entry. When he parked, he pulled into a space reserved for the South Penthouse.
“You’ll be safe here,” he said, his deep voice rubbing over her frayed nerves like sandpaper. Even now, on the worst night of her life, her body responded to him. Apparently her hormones or ovaries or whatever hadn’t gotten the message that she’d almost died tonight.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, swallowing around the lump in her throat. All of her emotions were still right there, just simmering under the surface. But as grateful as she was to Max for coming to their rescue tonight, she didn’t want to break down in front of him. They were work colleagues and they didn’t have that kind of relationship.
He simply nodded, then stepped out of the SUV. She moved to push her door open, but he beat her to it, opening it for her and then sliding an arm around her waist to help her down. She didn’t really need the support, but she wasn’t going to push him away. It felt far too good to have someone touch her. Physical contact was a comfort she was craving right now.
He guided her toward a sleek silver elevator in the corner, using yet another key card to call it. Sealed inside together, she was acutely aware of their size difference. He was almost a foot taller than her, and probably a hundred pounds heavier. She’d always been self-conscious about her size—no boobs, no hips, no ass, just a figure worthy of a twelve-year-old boy. And yet there was something about how big Max was that put her at ease. She liked the difference. Maybe because it made her feel safe. Maybe because it made her feel feminine.
Not that it mattered.
The elevator doors slid open and she sucked in a sharp gasp. Before her was a massive penthouse, the walls made up entirely of windows. The Tribeca skyline gleamed in the night, the lights of One World Trade Center seeming to shine right in the middle of it all. She could see the Hudson and Canal Street. Up here, surrounded by glass, it felt like the city was putting on a show, just for her.
It was beautiful, and after the ugliness of the night, she could use a little beauty. Stepping out of the elevator, her eyes roved over the impressive space, taking in the sleek, high end furniture, designer kitchen, and clear staircase that was engineered to look like it was floating. It was minimalistic and pristine. As gorgeous as it was, it didn’t look like anyone actually lived there.
It was closed off, revealing nothing.
