Chapter 83 The Anchor
Mila’s POV
The apartment was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic scratch of Nate’s pen against a legal pad and the occasional, lonely groan of the radiator. We were sprawled out on the living room floor, surrounded by textbooks and complex supply-and-demand curves. This was supposed to be a tutoring session—Nate had an economics exam looming—but the air between us was thick with a gravity that had nothing to do with academia.
"Mila, if the marginal cost exceeds the marginal revenue, why wouldn't the firm just shut down immediately?" Nate asked, though he wasn't looking at the chart. He was looking at me, his eyes dark and focused, the lamplight catching the gold in his irises.
"Because in the short run, they still have fixed costs to cover," I murmured, my voice losing its professional edge. "Sometimes you stay in a losing game because you're already too invested to walk away."
He reached out, his fingers brushing the hair back from my face, his touch lingering. "I know the feeling," he whispered.
Before I could respond, a soft, jagged sob broke the silence from the hallway. We both froze. A second later, Zoe appeared in the doorway, her small frame trembling under her dinosaur-print blanket. Usually, the three of us shared the only queen-size bed in the bedroom, but since my parents vanished, I’d moved to the lumpy pull-out sofa in the living room to keep watch.
"Mila? I can't find Mom," Zoe whimpered, her voice breaking. "Will you... will you sing me the moon song? I can't sleep."
I started to move, but my voice felt tight, my throat constricted by the weight of our situation. Before I could stand, Nate was already up. He uncoiled his long frame with a grace I didn't expect. I watched, breathless, as the man who commanded boardrooms knelt in the middle of our dim hallway.
"Hey, coloring partner," he said softly, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Mila's voice is a little tired tonight. How about I read you a story instead?"
Zoe sniffled, looking up at him. "Do you know the one about the rabbit?"
"I know all about rabbits," he lied gently, picking her up and carrying her back to the bedroom where Grace was already fast asleep. I followed silently, hovering in the doorway. I watched him sit on the edge of the bed, his large frame looking massive in the small room. He picked up a battered book and began to read. He didn't rush. He voiced the characters with a gentle patience, his hand resting protectively on Zoe's shoulder until her breathing slowed and she finally drifted off.
Watching him there, stripped of his pride, something in my chest finally cracked wide open. This was a man who grew up in marble halls, yet here he was, hunched over a child's bed in a drafty Brooklyn apartment, making sure the world felt safe for a little girl who wasn't even his.
When he finally stepped back into the living room, he looked weary, the weight of the night finally catching up to him. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me with an expression that was raw and unfiltered. I stood up and crossed the small space between us, my heart full of a gratitude I didn't know how to put into words. I reached out, resting my hand on his arm, and the moment my skin touched his, the air in the room seemed to vanish.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He didn't say a word. He just reached out, his hands finding my waist and pulling me flush against him. The transition from the tenderness of the bedroom to the sudden, electric pull between us was seamless—it wasn't just desire; it was a mutual emotional release. I leaned into him, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "You're doing so much, Mila," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. "Let me take some of it from you."
He began to kiss me—slow, deep, and agonizingly thorough. His mouth moved to my neck, his tongue tracing the line of my collarbone, sending shivers racing down my spine. I tilted my head back, my hands tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer. The world narrowed down to the scent of his cologne and the heavy thud of my heart.
He backed me toward the pull-out sofa, his hands sliding under the hem of my sweatshirt. His palms were warm and rough against my skin, sending a jolt of electricity through me. He followed me down onto the mattress, his weight a welcome pressure. Every touch was electric—the way his thumb grazed the underside of my breast, the way his leg hooked between mine. It was a slow burn, a rising tide of sensation that made my head spin. I felt the strength in his arms as he hovered over me, his eyes searching mine with a hunger that made me ache.
But as his hand moved to the button of my jeans, the reality of my life—the lack of experience, the sheer weight of my secrets—hit me like a bucket of ice water.
"Nate," I gasped, my hands pressing against his chest, halting his movement. "Wait. Stop."
He pulled back instantly, his eyes clouded with heat and confusion, his chest heaving. "Mila? Did I—did I hurt you?"
"No," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. I looked down at my feet, feeling the sudden, overwhelming weight of the truth. "It’s just... I’ve never done this. Any of it."
He went very still. "What do you mean?"
"I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve never had time. It’s always been work, or school, or Grace and Zoe. I didn't have room for a person." I looked up at him, my voice trembling. "I’m a virgin."
The shock on his face was visible. He stared at me for a long beat, the silence stretching between us until I wanted to crawl into the floorboards. I expected him to be frustrated, or perhaps even bored by the revelation. Instead, he looked at me with a reverence that made my breath hitch.
"Mila," he breathed, cupping my face with both hands. "You are... you are absolutely amazing.” His expression softened into something so tender it brought tears to my eyes. "To handle everything you have, to keep your heart so guarded and pure while the world tried to break you... I’m in awe of you, Mila. Truly."
He kissed my forehead, a soft, lingering contact. "You are the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me. I'm not going anywhere. We go at your speed. Always."
I leaned into him, the heat of the kiss replaced by a profound, soul-deep safety. I had spent my life taking care of everyone else, but in the quiet of a Brooklyn midnight, I realized someone was finally taking care of me. It wasn't just about the money or the groceries; it was about the fact that he saw the girl behind the armor and decided she was worth the wait.