~AXEL~
"Be honest with ," Layla asked, her finger slowly tracing the rim of her wine glass. "Did you ever think we would get to this stage when we first said ’I do’?"
I looked at her across the candlelit table. The wine-coloured dress clung to her skin, and the candlelight caught the gold locket Silas had given her, but it was her eyes—clear, trusting, and fiercely intelligent—that held captive.
I looked at her across the candlelit table. The wine-coloured dress hugged her body, and the candlelight sparkled on the gold locket that Silas had given her. But it was her eyes, those bright, trusting, and intelligent orbs, that truly captured my attention.
Honesty.
The word tasted bitter on my tongue.
If I were truly honest, I would tell her the beginning wasn’t fate.
It wasn’t an accident that the hotel was overbooked that night. It wasn’t a coincidence that she was wrongly assigned to my suite, and there was no other available room in the hotel or nearby. It was not a coincidence that I was the only option.
I was a man who moved chess pieces, and Layla had been the Queen I needed to get my revenge on her assud father, Charles.
I had planned every detail when I found out Cassandra was cheating with her ex-fiancé, gambled on a few options, but ultimately, set the stage when she made a reservation in the hotel that day.
She was supposed to be my revenge piece against Charles, as she planned her revenge against them as well.
I had expected a transaction. I had expected a terrified girl I could place in a gilded cage and ignore while I built my empire.
I looked at the woman sitting in front of me now. The woman who had stared down Charles Watson. The woman who had made a house I bought for status feel like a ho.
Taking a deep breath, I finally replied. "No."
My voice sounded rougher than I intended. I reached out, taking her hand in mine, needing the physical contact to ground against the sudden wave of guilt I was feeling. "I didn’t."
She tilted her head, and a playful smile touched her lips. "You didn’t think we’d last?"
"I thought I could control the situation," I admitted, choosing my words with the precision of a bomb disposal technician. "I treat life like a business deal, Layla. I calculate risks. I forecast outcos. When we married, I thought I had accounted for every variable."
I squeezed her hand, brushing my thumb over her wedding ring.
"But you..." I shook my head, and a self-deprecating chuckle escaped . "You were the wildcard. I didn’t account for your fire. I didn’t account for your resilience, Layla." I paused, looking directly into her eyes. "And I certainly didn’t calculate that you would bring to my knees."
Layla’s breath hitched. The playful smile vanished, replaced by a look of raw vulnerability. "I haven’t brought you to your knees, Axel. We stand together."
"In public, yes," I murmured, leaning forward. "But inside? You own , Layla. You have since the mont you stopped being afraid of and started fighting beside ."
I didn’t tell her about the hotel. I locked that secret away in the deepest vault of my mind, right next to the codes for my offshore accounts.
Because looking at her now, I knew that if she ever found out I had manipulated her into this life, it might break us. And I was selfish enough to want to keep her, even if it ant living with a lie.
"You’re staring," she whispered with flushed cheeks.
"I’m morising," I corrected. "Because once we leave this vault, the world cos back. But right now, you’re the only thing that exists."
I signalled the waiter for the check. I needed to get her out of here. The conversation was getting too close to the truth, and the way that dress dipped low in the back was testing every ounce of my self-control.
"Ready to go?" I asked, standing up and offering her my hand.
"Is the night over?" she asked, a hint of disappointnt in her voice as she stood.
I pulled her close, my hand sliding down to the curve of her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin through the silk. I leaned down, my lips grazing her ear.
"The dinner is over, Mrs. O’Brien, but the night has barely begun."
—
The drive back was electric.
I kept the partition up between us. Tye knew not to peek in the rearview mirror. Layla was sitting next to , her head resting on my shoulder and her hand gently on my thigh.
Every ti the car turned, her leg brushed against mine, sending spikes of adrenaline through my system that had nothing to do with the war we were fighting.
When the elevator opened into the penthouse, I didn’t give her a chance to walk.
I scooped her up into my arms, ignoring her squeal of surprise.
"Axel! Put down, I can walk!" she laughed, kicking her legs.
"I know you can," I said, striding down the hallway. "But I’m not wasting another second."
I kicked the bedroom door shut and locked it. I set her down gently but didn’t step back. The room was dark, illuminated only by the city lights below us.
But tonight, I didn’t care about the city.
"You said..." Layla started, her voice breathless as she placed her hands on my chest. "You said you had the rest of my present."
"I do."
I reached into my pocket, but instead of a box, I pulled out a simple, folded piece of paper.
Layla looked confused. "A letter?"
"Read it."
She took it, her fingers trembling slightly. She moved to the window to catch the light. As she unfolded it, I watched her face.
It wasn’t a poem. It wasn’t a check.
It was a deed.
"Axel," she gasped, her eyes flying to mine. "This is..."
"The brownstone on 74th Street," I said. "The one you pointed out three months ago. You said it looked like the kind of place where a real family would live. Where kids could run in the hallway."
"You bought it?"
"I bought it under a trust. Untraceable to Huntington or O’Brien," I said, stepping closer to her. "It’s safe, Layla. It’s not a fortress like this penthouse. It’s a ho. For when this is all over. For when we win."
Tears welled in her eyes. "You really believe we’ll win."
"I have to," I said, reaching out to cup her face, wiping a tear away with my thumb. "Because I’m not just fighting for a company anymore. I’m fighting for the life that happens inside those walls. With you."
She dropped the paper and threw her arms around my neck, pulling me down into a kiss that shattered the last of my resolve. It tasted of wine and gratitude and sothing total surrender.
"Thank you," she sobbed against my mouth.
"Don’t thank ," I growled, taking a step forward, forcing her to take one backward. I kept walking until her legs hit the edge of the bed.
"Axel?"
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