Chapter 10
1407 Words
I don’t let her stand near the windows.
That’s the first rule.
She notices immediately—but she doesn’t argue. That tells me how deeply she understands the gravity of the situation, even if she doesn’t know all of it yet.
I guide her farther into the house, past the open living space and into my office. This room has no exterior windows. Reinforced walls. A secondary exit she doesn’t know about.
She studies everything.
Always observant. Always calculating.
“You planned for this,” she says quietly.
I don’t deny it. “I plan for everything.”
Except you.
I don’t say that part.
I pull up the security feed on my tablet, splitting the screen into six angles of the property. The street remains still. No unfamiliar vehicles. No movement where there shouldn’t be any.
For now.
“You said you’re being watched,” she says again, calmer now, sharper. “By someone inside your company.”
“Yes.”
She exhales slowly. “Someone powerful enough to stay invisible.”
“And patient enough to wait.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line. She’s scared—but not panicked. That frightens me more than hysteria ever could.
“I need to know what you’re thinking,” she says.
I meet her eyes. “I’m thinking that if he realizes you matter to me, you become leverage.”
Her chin lifts. “And if he already knows?”
“Then we make sure he never gets close enough to use it.”
She steps closer to the tablet, scanning the screens. “So what’s the plan?”
I hesitate.
Not because I don’t have one.
Because saying it out loud makes it real.
“You don’t change your routine,” I say carefully. “That’s critical. If he’s watching patterns, disruption alerts him.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “And you?”
“I double mine. Publicly.”
“You want him comfortable.”
“I want him bored.”
She nods once. “What about communication?”
I pull out my phone. “Burner. You don’t save the number. You don’t respond unless it’s me initiating.”
“And if I feel unsafe?”
“Then you use the phrase.”
Her brow furrows. “Phrase?”
“Something ordinary,” I say. “Something no one would question if intercepted.”
I think for a second. “Tell me your coffee tasted burnt.”
Her lips twitch despite the tension. “That’s dark.”
“It’s effective.”
She studies me. Really studies me.
“You’ve done this before,” she says.
I don’t answer.
That’s answer enough.
She doesn’t push.
Instead, she says quietly, “I trust you.”
The words hit harder than any accusation ever could.
I shouldn’t let that matter.
It does.
GRACE
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Edward like this.
Not the CEO.
Not the quiet man behind the coffee counter.
This version is something else entirely—hyper-focused, lethal in his calm. Every movement deliberate. Every choice calculated three steps ahead.
And yet.
His hands shake when he pours me water.
Just barely.
He tries to hide it. I see it anyway.
“You’re holding too much,” I say softly.
His gaze snaps to mine. “I’m holding exactly enough.”
“That’s not true.”
I step closer—not reckless, not defiant. Intentional.
“You’re trying to protect me,” I continue. “And you’re trying not to scare me. And you’re trying not to want me.”
His jaw tightens.
“That last one,” I add, “is failing.”
Silence stretches.
Thick. Charged.
“You shouldn’t push right now,” he says.
“I know,” I reply. “But I need to know something.”
I look up at him. “If this gets worse… will you still let me choose?”
His eyes darken—not with anger, but something rawer.
“Yes,” he says immediately. “Even if it destroys me.”
My breath catches.
That’s when it clicks.
He isn’t controlling because he wants power.
He’s controlling because he’s terrified of what happens if he lets go.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Then here’s my choice.”
I reach out—not to touch him—but to take the burner phone from his hand.
“I stay here tonight.”
He stills.
“Grace—”
“I know the risks,” I interrupt. “And I know what you’re trying to prevent. But if someone is watching, me leaving right now looks like fear.”
He exhales sharply. “You’re right.”
“And,” I add, voice lower now, “I don’t want to be alone.”
That’s the truth.
And it shatters something in him.
EDWARD
I shouldn’t agree.
Every instinct screams against it.
But she’s right—and worse, she knows it.
“Guest room,” I say finally. “Door locks from the inside. Panic button here.” I press a small, discreet square into her palm. “If you press it, every light on the property comes on and I’m at the door in seconds.”
She nods. “And you?”
“I don’t sleep.”
Her mouth curves sadly. “I believe that.”
We move through the house together, quiet, alert. I show her the room, explain the system, the exits, the redundancies.
She listens.
But I can feel the tension coiling between us, tightening with every shared breath.
When I turn to leave, she stops me.
“Edward.”
I look back.
She’s standing there, framed by the doorway, eyes too bright, pulse visible at her throat.
“You’re not the only one losing control,” she says.
I swallow.
“Grace,” I warn.
She crosses the room in two slow steps.
“I know this isn’t smart,” she murmurs. “But nothing about us has been.”
Her hand comes to rest against my chest.
Right over my heart.
“I need you to stop pretending this is one-sided.”
That’s it.
That’s where the last thread snaps.
I grip the doorframe instead of her, breathing through clenched teeth.
“You don’t understand,” I say hoarsely. “If I touch you the way I want to, I won’t be able to stop.”
She looks up at me—steady, fearless.
“Then don’t stop.”
The words land like permission.
Like absolution.
I close the door behind us.
Not locked.
Just closed.
GRACE
The moment he turns back to me, I know.
Whatever restraint he was holding onto is gone.
He doesn’t rush me.
That’s what makes it unbearable.
He cups my face like he’s memorizing me—thumb brushing my cheek, eyes dark and burning.
“This isn’t about fear,” he says quietly. “This is about want.”
“I know.”
“And once I cross this line,” he continues, “there’s no pretending anymore.”
I rise onto my toes and press my mouth to his jaw.
“I’m done pretending.”
That’s when he finally kisses me.
Not desperate.
Not frantic.
Controlled in the way only a man on the edge can be.
His mouth is firm, deliberate, devastating. Like he’s staking a claim he’s fought himself over for too long.
My hands fist in his shirt.
He groans—low, restrained—and pulls me closer.
The world narrows to breath and heat and the way he’s shaking now, just as badly as I am.
“This is a mistake,” he murmurs against my mouth.
I smile against his lips. “Then make it with me.”
His control collapses—not into chaos, but into truth.
He lifts me effortlessly, sets me down on the edge of the bed, standing between my knees like it’s where he’s always belonged.
He doesn’t rush.
He watches me.
Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he blinks.
“This doesn’t change the plan,” he says.
“No,” I agree, breathless. “It changes us.”
His forehead rests against mine.
And then something changes, Edward’s eyes no longer have restraint in them they have pure heat, pure desire. That alone sends jolts of electricity between my thighs. And as if he can sense it he begins to kiss me this time with need, with want.
WITH PASSION
- Writer
