The gates of the lake house slide open for us. I’ve already had Blake’s team sweep the property twice, confirming it’s clean. The house stands dark and silent against the water, a bastion of calm after the night’s chaos. I help Lea out, noting how she stays close to my side as we walk to the front door.
Once inside, the full impact of the night seems to crash down on her. She stands in the center of the great room, looking small and lost. I dismiss Blake with a look, waiting until the door closes behind him before approaching her.
“You need to rest,” I say, gently taking her hand.
“I should shower,” she says, her voice distant. “I can still feel that place on my skin.”
I nod, releasing her hand reluctantly. “I’ll be here.”
While she’s in the bathroom, I set my gun on the nightstand. The adrenaline crash is hitting hard, leaving me raw and unguarded in a way I rarely allow myself to be. The sound of running water from the shower fills the silence. I picture her under the spray, washing away the terror of her captivity, and the protectiveness I feel is almost overwhelming. I restrain myself. She needs space.
Instead, I pour two glasses of whiskey from the decanter. The amber liquid catches the low light as I take a sip, the burn of it grounding me. The shower stops, and a few minutes later, the bathroom door opens.
Lea emerges wrapped in one of my robes, her damp hair leaving dark patches on the white fabric. Her face is scrubbed clean, her eyes clearer but still holding shadows of the night’s events. She looks impossibly vulnerable and achingly beautiful.
I cross the room and offer her the second glass of whiskey. She takes it, her fingers brushing mine. The simple contact sends a current through me that has nothing to do with power or control and everything to do with connection.
“Thank you,” she says after taking a sip. “For finding me.”
I set my glass down and cup her face in my hands. “I will always find you, Lea.” The words come from somewhere deep and unguarded. “Always.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for the calculation that has defined us. But there’s none to find. What she sees instead makes her breath catch.
She reaches up, her hand covering mine. “Nico,” she breathes.
I don’t know which of us moves first. One moment we’re standing apart, the next her glass is abandoned on the dresser and we’re crashing together. Her mouth finds mine with desperate certainty, her hands fisting in my shirt as if afraid I might disappear.
I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bed. The robe falls open. I lay her down with a gentleness that surprises us both, then rid myself of my own clothes.
When I join her on the bed, it’s different. This isn’t about dominance or submission. It’s about reaffirmation—proof of life, of safety, of connection in its most primal form. I kiss her deeply, memorizing the taste of her. Her hands move over my skin, tracing old scars. When I finally enter her, it’s with a reverence that borders on worship.
“Look at me,” I command softly. I see everything I’ve been afraid to acknowledge reflected in her eyes. Want. Need. A desperate, consuming connection that transcends the games we’ve played.
We move together with a synchronicity that defies the tangle of our past. Every touch, every kiss is both a promise and a plea. I watch her come undone beneath me, her back arching, my name a breathless prayer on her lips. Her surrender triggers my release, and for a perfect, suspended moment, there is no Moretti, no danger, no uncertain future—just this, just us.
Afterward, I hold her against my chest, her heartbeat a steady counterpoint to my own. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my skin.
“I thought I’d lost you,” I admit into the darkness.
She tilts her head up to look at me. “You didn’t.”
“When I saw that bomb...” I tighten my arms around her, the memory still raw. “I’ve never felt fear like that.”
She’s silent for a long moment. “Why?” she finally asks. “You never fear anything.”
The truth has been clawing its way out since I cut that wire. “Because you matter to me, Lea,” I say, my voice raw. “More than is safe for either of us.”
Her breath hitches. “What does that mean? For us?”
In my world, love is a liability. The strategic move would be to distance myself. But looking at her, I know that’s no longer possible.
“It means things change,” I tell her, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “It means Moretti’s actions tonight were a declaration of war. It means I protect what’s mine. And you, Lea Song, are mine in ways that have nothing to do with leverage.”
She studies me, then leans up and kisses me—softly, sweetly.
“Yours,” she agrees when she pulls back. The single word is a vow, holding a thousand promises.
I pull her closer. Tomorrow, I will be the Diplomat again—methodical, ruthless in my pursuit of Moretti’s destruction. But tonight, holding the woman I just saved, the woman Moretticondemned to die with me, I am simply a man who has been given a second chance. And I will burn the world down to keep it.
