Being with her, unrestrained, unmasked, had been everything I could have—andhad—imagined it to be, and all it had done was leave me craving for more.
And when she confronted me in her office about having been embarrassed about people—namely,my mother—finding out about her, the dam snapped on my frustration at having our time together cut short.
I could’ve been gentler; I probably should’ve been. But she needs to know, as wrong it is that we’re together, I don’t regret it.
She is mine, and when she’s ready, I’ll shout it from the highest rooftop there is that I am just as much, if not more, hers.
Even now, hours later, when I should be concentrating on the meeting at hand, all I can think about is how long until my lips are on hers again.
“Sir?” prompts the man sitting across from me, who’s in a black shirt and Armani slacks. “Will that be all?”
“You confirm that that’s everything?” I gesture at the envelope on the table in the corner of the dark club.
“Yes, that’s the last of it. I haven’t collected anything since the first report.”
He seems to be telling the truth.
“Okay, destroy all other copies. I have your word?”
“Of course, Mr. Baxter.”
I push an envelope across the table to him. “Please let me know if that’s not enough.”
He doesn’t even glance inside; he just stands, tucks the envelope into his pocket, takes my offered hand, then leaves.
The uneasiness in my stomach from the day hasn’t settled, and having possession of that envelope is only making it worse. I still feel guilty for having it, even though I know it’s vital that I do.
It’s going to be a difficult few months.
And right now, there’s only one person who makes everything seem worth it.
“Home, Francis, please. It’s time to go home.”
The house is completely quiet when I get there.
I dump my briefcase in my office, and with the small patisserie box in my hand, I make my way down the residential wing.
A soft knock on Luna’s bedroom doesn’t return any response.
“It’s Kingsley,” I whisper as I push down on the handle.
But the room is dark, empty.
“She’s not in there,” Theodore whispers from behind me.
“Then where is she?” I ask, trying to tamp down the panic in my voice.
He cocks an eyebrow, and then, with a sly smile, lifts his arm and points at my bedroom door. “Guess your apology game has gotten better,” he quips, then is gone before I can respond.
Ignoring the increase of my heart rate, I step into my bedroom.
It’s almost pitch dark; only the soft light from the hallway draws the line of her silhouette on the leather couch. I close the door behind me, slide out of my suit jacket, and loosen my tie, kicking off my shoes.
Standing over her, my eyes slowly adjust to the dark, and I can’t stop running my eyes over the lines of her sweet sleeping face.
I lean over, dropping a whisper of a kiss to her cheek, not wanting to wake her.
“Kingsley?” she mumbles, her voice adorably softened by slumber.
