Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Don’t leave.”
The elevator doors slide shut behind me with a soft hiss, sealing off the exit as my heartbeat thunders in my ears. For a second, neither of us moves, then he takes another half-step back.
“I didn’t mean to grab you.” With an exhale, his shoulders lower a fraction. “I just don’t like the idea of you wandering around alone at night. If you still want to leave, let me call a car to take you back to Oliver’s. Or, hell, I’ll pay for a hotel room, if you’d prefer that instead.”
I look up at him and find that the hard line of his mouth has softened. The regret filling his eyes is threaded with concern, not authority, and the tension within me gradually eases.
“It’s perfectly safe,” I say lightly, because joking is easier than admitting how shaky I am. “I only witnessed three murders, tops.”
Laiken’s brows furrow as his frown deepens. The man is annoyingly handsome even when he’s scowling. “That’s not funny.”
A tiny smile tugs at my lips. “Oh, I don’t know. I mean, it’s kind of funny.”
One corner of his mouth reluctantly twitches, as if he’s fighting a smile and losing the battle. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared, but I’m ridiculously pleased with myself for being able to tease it out of him. Laiken Lennox doesn’t strike me as a man who smiles often. And that’s unfortunate.
“Would you like something to drink?” Discomfort radiates from him as he shifts. “Water? Or maybe a glass of wine?” His eyes narrow. “You’re old enough to drink alcohol, right?”
I blink at the question as my fingers twitch toward my stomach on instinct. “Um, yeah, but no wine for me.” I snatch my hand back before it can land there. “Water’s fine. Thanks.”
His gaze flicks to my hand and then up to my face like he noticed the movement. It’s a relief when he doesn’t comment and just nods once.
“Water it is.”
Without another word, he turns toward the kitchen.
I force myself to stay put. My arm still tingles where he touched it as my brain somersaults with the knowledge that he was concerned enough about my safety to send a car to pick me up. And then there’s the fact he stayed on the phone until I was inside the vehicle.
That he was actually worried.
I move deeper into the penthouse. The living room is dimly lit, with only a few lamps glowing, as the city twinkles beyond the windows. It’s beautiful in a way that steals the air from my lungs. Once near the glass, I press my fingertips against the cool surface and watch Chicago blink back at me. Headlights stream along the streets below as the surrounding skyscrapers glitter. Beyond them, the lake stretches dark and endless.
For one dangerous second, I let myself imagine this could be mine.
Mornings filled with cartoon theme songs drifting down the hallway. Elody’s shoes by the door next to mine. The familiar comfort of dinner scents lingering in the air at the end of a long day. And a quiet man making sure I return home. The fantasy cocoons me in safety right before guilt crashes in, because this isn’t mine.
It will never be mine.
The truth is, if Laiken knew about the baby, this fragile sense of safety would vanish in an instant. And the offer that feels like a lifeline would disappear just as quickly with it, leaving me right back where I started.
I can’t afford for that to happen.
Footsteps whisper across the floor behind me, followed by the brush of a cold bottle against my fingers.
“Sorry,” Laiken murmurs when I startle. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
I turn, finding him closer than expected. Close enough to see the dark shadow of stubble along his jaw and the green flecks dancing in his eyes. Close enough that the scent of him—smoke, leather, and an innately masculine note—wraps around me, teasing my senses.
I curl my fingers around the water bottle just to have something to hold on to. “Thanks.”
He steps back, immediately giving me space again. The air feels cooler with the loss of him. We stand there for a moment as an awkward bubble expands between us. I twist the cap off and take a sip I don’t need, anything to keep my mouth busy so I don’t blurt out something I’ll regret.
He clears his throat, and his gaze drifts to the city before returning to me. “So,” he says slowly, as if choosing his words with great care, “I was thinking.”
“Sounds dangerous,” I say before I can think better of it.
One side of his mouth twitches. “Funny.”
It’s unsettling to realize how much I like making him smile.
Another beat passes, and his expression shifts, the faint crease between his brows deepening. “Why don’t you live here?”