“Unconscious.”
“Can I talk to her?” he asked again, and I shook my head, forgetting he couldn’t see me.
“She’s not in any state to talk right now. I don’t care how fast you have to drive. Just get here.”
I hung up, shoving my phone into my pocket. I needed to stop wasting my time talking to him when she needed me.
Tate was still curled into Millie. Her whole world shattered in a single night.
I wanted to fix it.
I wanted to rip the past hour from existence and give her back the safety Damian had stolen. But all I could do was stand there, blood on my knuckles, while she fell apart.
It waslate by the time I pulled up to my condominium building. Tate was having nightmares in the passenger seat, balling her fists and whimpering.
“Tate, baby. We’re here,” I whispered softly, cupping her swollen cheek and brushing my thumb gently against the hot skin.
She woke with a start, her eyes darting around, chest rising and falling quickly until she noticed her surroundings. I got out of the car, handing my keys to the valet and then rounded the hood to help her out of the car. She kept her face low, eyes on the ground, as we made the quick walk to the elevators, and then we were alone in the elevator up to the penthouse where I lived. She followed me to the door where I inserted my key.
Tate stood frozen in the entryway, her gaze sweeping across the open space with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. Her lips parted slightly, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag as she took it all in. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city skyline, the sleek black marble countertops in the kitchen, the massive sectional couch that could swallow a person whole.
“This is…a lot,” she finally said, her voice unreadable.
I smirked, closing the door behind her. “That’s one way to put it.”
She stepped forward hesitantly, her sneakers squeaking against the polished hardwood floors, and ran a hand along the back of the couch. Her fingers lingered there as she glanced up at the pendant lights hanging above the kitchen island.
“You live here alone?” she asked, still not looking at me.
I leaned against the wall, watching her carefully. “Yeah.”
She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “I mean, I knew you had money, but…” Her gaze flicked to the glass balcony doors, then to the modern fireplace set into the far wall. “This is another level.”
Something about the way she said it made me uneasy. I pushed off the wall and walked toward her. “It’s just a place, Tate.”
She let out a small laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Right. Just a place.”
Her fingers traced the seam of the couch for a second longer before she turned to me, her expression unreadable. “It’s beautiful, Griffin. It really is.”
There was something in her voice, something laced with hesitation. Like she wasn’t sure if this world of mine was one she fit into.
I wasn’t about to let her start thinking that.
Stepping closer, I reached for her bag and slipped it off her shoulder, setting it on the counter. “Come on,” I murmured, tilting my head toward the view. “I want to show you something.”
She let me take her hand, and when I led her toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, she didn’t resist.
She pressed a palm to the glass, eyes widening slightly at the city stretching out below us, the skyline illuminated in soft gold and blue. “Wow,” she whispered.
I didn’t look at the view. I looked at her.
Because, right then, with the city lights reflecting in her eyes, she was the most breathtaking thing in this place.
And I had a feeling she had no idea.
“I need to shower,” she whispered a few minutes later, her gaze fixed on her nails like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.
Something had shifted the energy between us, the weight of the night finally settling on her shoulders. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe reality had just caught up.
