She didn’t move for a long time.
The silence in the condo was a living thing, thick and suffocating. The only sound was the hum of the climate control, pumping out Cole’s perfectly regulated air.
Her eyes were fixed on the diamonds encircling her wrist. They weren’t sparkling. They were teeth. A glittering jawbone clamped around her, holding her in place.
Our future.
The words echoed in her head. A house. A family. His family. His baby.
A wave of nausea, sharper and more violent than the one in the morning, ripped through her. This wasn’t morning sickness. This was revulsion.
She unclasped the bracelet.
The metal was slick with sweat. She let it fall to the polished hardwood floor. It landed with a soft, expensive clatter. A broken promise. A rejected shackle.
She looked at her bare wrist. It felt lighter. Freer.
You don’t have to go back.
Kian’s voice. A low rumble in the suffocating quiet. A lifeline.
She was going to be sick. She was going to break. She was going to scream. She had to get out. Not for a walk. Not for coffee. She had to get out before the walls physically crushed her.
She didn’t grab her purse. She didn’t grab her coat. She just turned, yanked open the door, and ran.
She ran past the doorman, ignoring his confused greeting. She hit the street, the cold air a shock to her system. She didn’t have a destination, but her feet did. They carried her back toward the water, back toward the salt and the grit.
Back to him.
The Crow’s Nest looked the same. Dark. Permanent. An anchor in a shifting world.
She shoved the door open, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
He was there.
Same stool. Same spot at the end of the bar. It was as if he’d never left. He was nursing a beer this time, staring at the bottle, his brow furrowed in thought.
He looked up as she burst in. His eyes widened slightly, taking in her wild hair, her heaving chest, the sheer panic on her face.
He was on his feet in an instant.
He met her in the middle of the room. He didn’t touch her. He just stood in her path, a solid wall of a man.
“What happened?” he asked. The question was a demand. Low. Urgent.
She couldn’t speak. The words were trapped behind a wall of tears she refused to let fall. She just shook her head, a gesture of complete and utter defeat.
His gaze flickered down to her wrist. Her bare wrist. Then his eyes, now dark as a storm surge, met hers. He knew. He didn’t know the details, but he knew the feeling. The cage.
“Come with me,” he said. It wasn’t a request.
He put a hand on the small of her back, a light but firm pressure that guided her past the bar, past the curious eyes of the bartender, and through a door she hadn’t noticed before.
They were in a narrow brick alley behind the pub. The air smelled of rain and refuse. A single bare bulb cast a sickly yellow light over the damp cobblestones.
He let his hand drop and turned to face her, boxing her in against the cold, rough brick.
“Tell me what he did,” Kian growled.
“He didn’t do anything.” The lie was pathetic.
“Don’t.” The word was sharp, a command that cut through her defenses. “I saw your face this morning when his name came up. I see it now. What did he do?”
The dam broke.
“He bought me a bracelet,” she sobbed, the words nonsensical and humiliating. “He wants to buy a house. He talks about a future… a family… and he’s planning my exhibit for me. He’s telling me how to do my job, how to live, how to breathe. He’s everywhere. I can’t get away.”
Each word was a crack in her composure. She was unraveling right in front of him.
He didn’t say a word. He just listened, his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscles bulge. His anger was a palpable thing, a shield he was raising in her defense.
“I can’t do it,” she whispered, finally looking up at him, her vision blurred with tears. “I can’t live in that house. I can’t wear his diamonds. I can’t… I can’t have his baby.”
The last three words fell out, a confession she hadn’t meant to make. A truth so raw it burned the air between them.
Kian froze. The anger in his eyes was instantly replaced by something else. Shock. Pain. A deep, hollow understanding that went beyond anything she had expected.
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t offer platitudes.
He just looked at her, at the absolute wreckage of her life, and he saw her.
The tension, stretched taut for two days, finally snapped.
It wasn’t a decision. It was an instinct. A desperate, primal need to feel something else. Something real.
She surged forward, her hands fisting in the fabric of his thick work shirt. She pulled him down to her, rising on her toes, and crashed her mouth against his.
It was a kiss of pure desperation.
It was frantic and clumsy and raw. It tasted of salt and coffee and tears. It was a cry for help. It was a rebellion.
For a split second, he was rigid with surprise.
Then he groaned, a low, guttural sound from deep in his chest, and his arms came around her, crushing her against him. His hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as his mouth took hers with a ferocious hunger that matched her own.
This was not a gentle kiss. It was a collision. A flash flood of everything they hadn’t said. His lips were firm, demanding. He kissed her like he was starving. Like he was staking a claim.
Her back pressed against the rough brick wall, the texture scratching through her sweater. She didn’t care. She welcomed the pain. It was real. It was here. It wasn’t in the condo.
His other hand slid down her back, finding the curve of her waist and pulling her hips flush against his. She could feel the hard muscle of his thighs, the solid strength of his body pinning her in place. She wasn’t trapped. She was anchored.
She opened her mouth to his, a silent plea for more. His tongue met hers, and a bolt of pure, unadulterated heat shot through her. It was possessive. Overwhelming. He was devouring her despair and replacing it with a fire that burned away everything.
Cole vanished. The condo vanished. The two pink lines, the diamonds, the future she was supposed to want—it all turned to ash.
There was only this.
The cold brick at her back. The hard body against hers. The bruising pressure of his mouth. The man who wasn’t him. The man who felt more real than anything in her entire life.
He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers. They were both breathing hard, their breath misting in the cold alley air. His thumb stroked her cheek, wiping away a tear she didn’t know had fallen.
His stormy eyes bored into hers, filled with a raw, protective fire.
She had just kissed a stranger. A man whose last name she didn’t even know.
And she had never felt safer in her life.