LOVE WE NEVER PLANNED

CHAPTER 5 : ROOFTOP RULES AND STOLEN PULSES.

The private rooftop terrace of Stone Towers was never supposed to be shared. Rule number 7 in the Penthouse lease: Private rooftop access is exclusive to Penthouse A. No exceptions.

But Amelia Hart had found Mia's pink bunny there at 11:07 PM, and Liam Stone was already there.

He was there. Black sweatshirt, barefoot despite the cold, holding Mia's monitor in one hand and a bottle in the other. His 8-year-old sister Mia sleeping inside Penthouse A. His hair was messy like he hadn't slept in days.

"You're on my side," she whispered, clutching the bunny.

"I own the building, Dr. Hart," he said coldly. "Every side is my side."

"Not 30 minutes in an Uber from Queens. 30 seconds through that connecting door they told me was sealed. You lied."

"I am a very good liar, Amelia," he said, stepping closer. "I lied when I said I didn't hear Emma crying through the wall. I lied when I said I don't come up here every night."

"Liar," she whispered. One word, but it broke him.

"I bled alone, Mr. Stone," she said. "I was left as a single parent raising my daughter Emma alone, working three jobs. Don't you dare pity me."

His ruthless mask cracked. "Your fiancee walked away and told you to get rid of the baby when you told him about the pregnancy? My servant Maria died while giving birth to Mia too. She left me holding a newborn screaming alone. We are the same. And you both feel like mine now."

"I'm not yours," she said, but her voice shook.

Before she could either slap him or kiss him — both baby monitors went off at once. WAA! WAA! Mia in Penthouse A and Emma in Penthouse B.

They ran. He grabbed her hand. The connecting door that was supposed to be sealed — he had the key.

One more rule for the rooftop," he whispered later, after both girls were asleep again on one bed. "After 10 PM, you don't call me Mr. Stone. You call me Liam. Just Liam."

"Goodnight, Mr. Stone," she said quickly.

Inside Penthouse B, Emma sat up, holding Mia's pink bunny. "Mommy? Is Uncle Handsome still on our rooftop?"

Amelia tucked Emma back into her pink blankets. Emma giggled, half-asleep. "That's what Mia calls him in sleep... Uncle Handsome."

"Does Uncle Handsome make you happy, Mommy? Like heart-shaped pancakes?"

Oh no. Dangerous. Her daughter already had a name for him.

But across the thin penthouse wall, she heard it. Footsteps. Bare feet on marble. He was still listening.

---

"You screamed at me in the operation room for touching Mia's chart with unwashed hands -"

"I did not scream," she cut in, blushing. "I was assertive."

"You screamed," he said, a rare, small smile cracking his perfect face, making him look 10 years younger, almost boyish. "You said 'Get your billionaire hands off my patient or I will cut them off.' My security wanted to escort you out. I told them to leave you."

"You remember that?"

"I remember everything you do," he said, voice low. "The way you tie your hair when you're nervous. The way Emma holds your stethoscope like a toy. The way you look at me when you think I am not looking. Like you want to hate me but you can't."

Amelia's breath caught. "Liam-"

"Let me finish," he interrupted gently, reaching out but not touching her, his hand hovering near her cheek. "I was left as a single parent too. I know what it means to wake up at 3 a.m terrified because a baby is too quiet. I know what it means to have no one to call. You were left alone pregnant. I was left alone with a newborn after my servant Maria died. We are the same, Amelia. We are parents who never got to be just young."

Tears stung her eyes. No one had ever said that to her.

"I don't need a billionaire to save me," she whispered.

"I know," Liam whispered back, finally letting his knuckle brush her cheek, so soft it burned. "But maybe Emma needs heart-shaped pancakes. And maybe Mia needs a mother who knows how to heal hearts. And maybe... maybe I need you on that rooftop every night at 11:07 p.m, So I don't feel alone in this building."

She didn't say no. She didn't say yes. She just stood there, breathing hard, her lips parted, her pulse wild under his thumb.

That was enough for Liam Stone.

He didn't kiss her. Not yet. A man who has been left holding a newborn alone learns patience. He wrapped his large, warm cardigan — the one he had been wearing on the rooftop — around her shoulders. It smelled like him. Expensive, clean and safe.

"Come," he whispered.

He led her back to the rooftop. Not to his side. To the middle. Where the frosted glass partition ended and the city was open. He had already prepared it while she put Emma to sleep. A thick outdoor blanket, two mugs of hot chocolate going cold, and the two baby monitors side by side, both glowing green. Both girls breathing peacefully.

Amelia sat down, his cardigan swallowing her small body. Her scrubs were thin. Her feet were bare and cold.

Liam sat behind her. Not touching. Then, slowly, he pulled her back against his chest. One arm around her waist. One hand holding both monitors so he could see if either girl woke up.

Amelia stiffened for one second — then melted. Four years. Four years since a man held her like this. Since she was left as a single parent raising Emma alone. Four years of being Dr. Hart, the strong one. Tonight she was just Amelia.

"You are freezing," he murmured against her hair.

"I'm okay," she whispered, but she leaned deeper into him. His chest was so warm and very solid.

"At Afia Central Hospital tomorrow, you will be Dr. Hart again. The best pediatric heart surgeon in New York. You will yell at me for touching charts," he said softly, his lips brushing her temple. "But tonight, on this rooftop, you are just my Amelia. Let me hold you. Just this."

His voice — that cold billionaire voice that made boardrooms silent — was shaking. He was nervous. Liam Stone, 28, worth billions, was nervous holding a woman in scrubs on a rooftop in the snow.

Amelia turned her head slightly. Their noses almost touched. His grey eyes were so close, dark, obsessed, possessive.

"Liam..."

"Shh," he whispered. "Our girls are sleeping. The city is sleeping. Stay calm ."

And she did.

She stayed for ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. Until the hot chocolate was ice cold and her eyes were heavy. Liam didn't move. He just held her, his chin resting on her head, his arm tight around her waist like he was afraid she would disappear if he let go.

Finally, he carried her — not walked, carried — bridal style, her head on his shoulder, back down to Penthouse B. He tucked her into bed next to Emma, who was snoring softly with Mia's pink bunny. He pulled the blanket up to her chin.

"Goodnight, Amelia Hart," he whispered, brushing a curl from her face, his fingers lingering.

"Goodnight... Liam," she whispered back, half asleep, the first time she ever called him Liam.

He froze at the doorway, his hand on the light switch, his heart hammering like a boy.

Outside, snow was still falling on Stone Towers.

Tomorrow, at Afia Central Hospital, he would be the cold donor who owns half the hospital. She would be the surgeon who saves his baby_sister. A new doctor would flirt with her. A jealous nurse would talk. And Liam Stone would have to watch another man look at what he already knew was his.