~HELENA~
"I told you. Italian place," Tye said, moving through traffic with ease. "Best carbonara in the city. Family-owned. Been around for fifty years. It’s in Little Italy."
"Sounds perfect," I said.
"It is," he said. "Fair warning though, the owner, Maria, she’s going to try to feed you until you explode. And she’s going to ask a lot of personal questions."
"Personal questions?"
"She’s traditional," Tye said. "She’s going to ask if we’re together. If I’m treating you right. If my intentions are honourable. The whole thing."
"And what are you going to tell her?" I asked, feeling my heart beating faster.
Tye was quiet for a mont. Then he glanced at with a serious expression.
"The truth," he said. "That I brought the most beautiful woman I know to her restaurant because I wanted to spend ti with her. That I’ve been thinking about her for weeks. That I’m hoping she gives me a chance to prove I’m not just the guy who doubted her."
My breath caught in my throat.
"And that yes," he continued, returning his gaze back to the road, "my intentions are very honourable. Because she deserves that."
I didn’t know what to say. My heart was hamring so hard I was sure he could hear it.
"Tye..." I started.
"Too much?" he asked, glancing at with a hint of vulnerability. "Sorry. I’ve been told I’m not great at subtlety."
"No," I said quickly, reaching over to touch his arm. "Not too much. Perfect, actually."
His entire face lit up with a genuine smile as he reached across and took my hand.
—
The restaurant was intimate, lit by candles and hidden away in a quiet part of the city. Just like Tye had promised, Maria had tried to feed us until we couldn’t move, and she’d absolutely grilled Tye about his intentions while I sat there blushing.
We had finished our pasta, which Tye was right about – it was life-changing – and were now lingering over a shared tiramisu.
The dessert sat between us, but neither of us was really eating it anymore. We were just... talking.
The conversation had flowed easier than I expected. We talked about Layla, about the rebuilding of the tower, about my brothers and how they were adjusting.
But as the wine went down and the restaurant began to empty around us, the questions got deeper.
"So," I said, tracing the rim of my wine glass. "You work for the O’Briens. You handle security. But... you move like a soldier. Or sothing else. There’s something about the way you carry yourself."
Tye leaned back in his chair, the candlelight flickering in his dark eyes. "I was in the life. A long ti ago."
"The mafia?" I whispered, leaning forward.
"The Syndicate," he corrected in a low voice. "My dad was the leader. After his death, I took over. Broken kneecaps, collection runs, protection rackets. That kind of thing."
I watched him carefully. I should have been scared. A week ago, I would have been. But looking at him now, all I saw was the man who had bought my brothers video games and held my hand when I was crying.
"Why did you leave?" I asked softly.
"Axel," he said simply, taking a sip of his water. "Well, technically, I didn’t leave completely. I still lead the organisation, but we’re into legal stuff now. Import and export of tech gadgets, weapons, security equipnt... anything a security company or the police or military would need. We went legitimate."
"How did Axel help you do that?"
"He believed in when no one else did," Tye said. "He gave a purpose that didn’t involve hurting people who didn’t deserve it. Now, I use my skills to protect people instead of threatening them. I still do that for those who step on my toes, but that’s it. It’s... cleaner... better for the soul."
He set his water down and looked at me directly. "What about you, Helena? What’s the dream? You going to be an EA forever?"
"Actually, I love my job," I said honestly. "And it got better since I started working for Layla. She’s amazing. Especially now, after everything."
"But?" Tye prompted.
"But... if I’m being totally honest?"
"Be honest," he said, leaning forward.
"I want to open a bakery," I admitted, feeling my cheeks heat up. "I know, it’s such a cliché. But my mom used to bake. It was the only ti the house slled good, you know? Before she got sick. Before everything fell apart. I want to make things that make people happy. Cakes, pastries, bread. Things that feel like ho."
Tye didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile dismissively. He looked at with intense focus, like he was seeing sothing important.
"You’d be good at it," he said seriously. "You have the patience for it. The attention to detail. And you’re sweet. Everything you make would be sweet."
"I’m not that sweet," I argued playfully, trying to lighten the mont. "I almost hit you with a lamp, rember?"
Tye laughed, and the deep, rumbling sound vibrated in my chest. "True. You have a little fire in you. I like that. Sweet but dangerous. My favourite combination."
The waiter ca with the check, and Tye paid before I could even reach for my purse.
"Co on," he said, standing and offering his hand. "Let’s get so air."
We walked out of the restaurant into the cool night air. The street was quiet, mostly empty except for a few couples walking hand in hand.
We walked side by side toward his car, our shoulders brushing with every step. The tension that had been building all night... heck, all week, was practically electric now.
We reached his car, but he didn’t unlock it. Instead, he leaned back against the passenger door, crossing his arms and looking down at .
"I had a good time tonight, Helena," he said softly.
"Me too," I said, stepping a little closer. "Thank you. For everything. For dinner, for the gas, for—"
"Stop thanking ," he murmured, his voice dropping lower.
"Why?"
"Because," he said, pushing off the car and taking a step toward , closing the gap between us until there was barely any space left. "I didn’t do it for credit. I didn’t do it for gratitude. I did it because I wanted to see you smile again. You looked so scared and broken in that safe house, and I hated it."
My breath hitched. He was so close now I could feel the heat radiating off him, sll his cologne, see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes.
"I’m not scared now," I whispered.
"No?" Tye asked, his voice dropping to a low growl. His hand ca up slowly, his thumb brushing my cheekbone, tracing the line of my jaw with feather-light touches. "You sure? Because I’m a dangerous guy, Helena. Mafia guy, rember? Scarred up, complicated, with violent past."
I reached up and placed my hand over his on my face, holding it there. "I think you’re just a guy who needs soone to trust. Soone who sees past the scars."
Tye’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating. He didn’t say anything else. He just lowered his head slowly, giving every chance to pull away.
I didn’t.
When his lips touched mine, it wasn’t tentative or gentle. It was hungry, like a claim.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, lting into him.
He tasted like wine and espresso and sothing uniquely him. His arms went around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard body, lifting slightly off the ground so our heights matched perfectly.
The kiss deepened, becoming desperate. It was like a release of all the fear and adrenaline of the last few days.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless. Tye rested his forehead against mine, his hands still gripping my waist tightly, like he was afraid to let go.
"Wow," I whispered.
"Yeah," Tye breathed, his chest heaving. "Wow."
He pulled back slightly to look at , his eyes searching mine. I could see the dark, intense desire in them.
"I don’t want to take you ho yet," he admitted. "Don’t get wrong. Your brothers are great, but... I don’t want to say goodnight. Not yet."
"I don’t want to say goodnight either," I whispered in response.
"Do you want to co to my place?" Tye asked carefully, watching my reaction. "It’s quiet. No roommates. No video gas. No interruptions. We could... talk more. Or not talk. Whatever you want."
I smiled, biting my lip. My heart was racing, but I wasn’t scared. I was rather excited. "And what exactly are we going to do at your place, Tye?"
That dangerous, charming grin returned in full force, and he smirked. He leaned in close, his hot breath on my skin as he whispered in my ear, sending shivers racing down my spine.
"I was thinking we could discuss your business plan for that bakery. Go over numbers, locations, target demographics..." He paused, his lips brushing my ear. "Or... I could show you my scars. Tell you the story behind every single one."
I laughed, a breathless sound that ca out more like a gasp. "I think I’d like to see the scars."
"Yeah?" he asked, pulling back to look at .
"Yeah," I confird, my voice steady despite my racing heart.
Tye opened the car door for , placing his hand on the small of my back. "Get in the car, Helena."
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