Chapter 49 I Love You

Chapter 49 I Love You
I stand frozen in the doorway, my hand still gripping the light switch. The sudden flood of amber light makes the shadows in the corner of my room retreat, but it does nothing to ease the chill that has settled in my bones. Cole looks like he has been sitting there for hours. He is draped in that armchair as if it were a throne, his presence taking up every bit of air in the small space. His face is a mask of weary anger, his jaw set in a way that tells me I am in for a fight I might not be prepared to win.
​“You really should learn to lock your windows, Riley,” he says, his voice a low, vibrating hum that bypasses my ears and goes straight to my nerves. “Especially when you spend your afternoons playing cat burglar at a university.”
​I force my fingers to let go of the switch and drop my keys onto the dresser. My heart is trying to kick its way out of my ribs, but I refuse to let him see me tremble. I have just survived hiding under a table three feet away from a man talking about illegal corridors and Richard Thorpe. I can handle a lecture from a man who is currently sitting in my bedroom without an invitation.
​“How did you get in here, Cole?” I ask, my voice steadier than I expected. “And why are you lurking in the dark like some Victorian villain?”
​He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t even blink. He just leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes tracking every movement I make. “I have a key, remember? The one you gave me three months ago for emergencies. I’d say breaking into a department head’s office qualifies as an emergency.”
​I walk past him, heading toward the kitchen for a glass of water I don’t actually want. I need the distance. I need the movement. “I didn’t break in. The window was open. I was just… curious.”
​“Curious,” he repeats, the word sounding like a sentence in his mouth. He stands up and follows me, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood. “L’Incontro called me today, Riley. The hostess was very confused. She wanted to know if my ‘wife’ was satisfied with the changes to the reservation logs. Apparently, she was quite insistent that the names be updated to reflect a business meeting.”
​I stop at the counter and turn to face him. He is closer than I thought, looming over me with that intensity that always makes me feel like I’m standing too close to a fire. “I saved us, Cole. Lena found the receipt in your jacket. She was an hour away from driving to that restaurant and asking for the guest list. If I hadn’t called and played the part of the disgruntled spouse, she would have seen my name on that digital log. She would have known everything.”
​“You should have called me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. He places his hands on the counter on either side of me, pinning me in. “You don’t play these games on your own. You don’t know the people involved, and you certainly don’t know how to cover a trail as deep as the one I’ve spent years burying.”
​“I did call you,” I snap, my wit returning as my fear turns into irritation. “I called you to warn you about the phone records, and you told me to keep playing the friend. So I played the friend. I saw a threat, and I neutralized it. I didn’t need your permission to protect myself.”
​“And Mercer?” He leans in closer, the scent of his cologne and woodsmoke filling my senses. It is a dizzying, masculine smell that makes it hard to remember why I’m angry. “Was breaking into his office also about protecting yourself? Or were you just looking for more leverage to use against me?”
​“I was looking for the truth!” I shove against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. He feels like a mountain. “I saw a photo of him and Thorpe together. Lena is sleeping with a man who is clearly in league with the monster you work for. I needed to know what was in that office, Cole. I saw the ledger. I saw the payments from R.T. I heard him on the phone talking about the northern corridor and a shipment on Thursday. Tell me what that means.”
​His expression shifts from anger to something much darker, something cold and professional. He reaches out, his fingers brushing the side of my neck before his hand settles at the nape, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. It is not a gentle touch. It is possessive.
​“It means you are in over your head,” he says. “It means you need to stop. Every time you try to ‘fix’ things, you pull the thread tighter around your own neck. Remember the last time you tried to handle something on your own, Riley? You ended up with a smashed phone and a blackmail video playing in front of the entire school. You are a brilliant player on the field, but this isn’t a game you can win by outrunning the opponent.”
​“You can’t keep telling me what to do,” I whisper, though my body is betraying me, leaning into his warmth despite the words. “You aren’t my keeper, Cole. You aren’t even my boyfriend, according to that charming conversation we had at your house. You’re just a man who is terrified of losing control.”
​“I am a man who is terrified of losing you,” he counters, the admission hitting me harder than a physical blow.
​“Well, you might not have to worry about that for much longer,” I say, the secret I’ve been holding since this afternoon finally bubbling to the surface. I want to hurt him a little. I want to see that composure break. “I got an email today. An international scout from the tournament recommended me for a trial spot at a development program in Portugal. It’s an elite academy. Professional contracts, European exposure, the whole thing.”
​Cole freezes. The air in the kitchen seems to turn to ice. He doesn’t pull away, but the tension in his arm is so great I can feel the muscles vibrating. “Portugal?”
​“Yes. Portugal. Halfway across the world,” I say, my voice trembling now. “They want me there in two weeks. It’s everything I’ve ever worked for. It’s the life I was supposed to have before I got tangled up in your secrets and your daughter’s investigations and this entire mess of a city.”
​He lets out a breath that sounds like a growl. “You can’t go to Portugal, Riley. Not now. It’s too dangerous to move.”
​“You mean it’s too inconvenient for you,” I shot back. “What happens when I leave, Cole? Do you find a new girl to lecture? Do you find another girl to hide in your bathroom? You don’t get to decide my future. You don’t love me, so it shouldn’t matter where I am as long as your secrets are safe.”
​The silence that follows is deafening. I can hear the hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of a car siren, the frantic rhythm of my own heart. I wait for him to agree. I wait for him to tell me that I’m right, that it was just a physical thing, a mistake born of proximity and adrenaline.
​Cole doesn’t move. He just looks at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. He looks like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, weighing the cost of the fall.
​“I never said I didn’t love you,” he says quietly.
​The words are so unexpected that I actually stumble back against the counter. I look at him, searching his face for a lie, for a trick, for anything that might explain the sudden shift in the world’s axis. “What?”
​“I never said it,” he repeats, his voice growing stronger, more certain. He steps into my space again, his hands moving from the counter to my face. He cups my cheeks, his palms rough and warm against my skin. “I told myself I couldn’t. I told myself it was impossible, that it would destroy Lena, that it would destroy my career, that it would give Thorpe a weapon against me that I couldn’t defend. I’ve spent every waking second since that night at the hotel trying to convince myself that you were just a complication.”
​He leans down until our foreheads are touching. I can feel his breath on my lips. My vision is blurred, my mind spinning.
​“But then I saw you today,” he continues, his voice breaking in a way I have never heard before. “I saw you walk out of that building, looking so small and so brave and so incredibly reckless, and all I could think was that if anything happened to you, I would burn this entire city to the ground to find the person responsible. I don’t care about the northern corridor. I don’t care about Mercer. I don’t even care about the tournament.”
​He pulls back just enough to look me in the eye, his expression raw and agonized. It is the face of a man who has finally surrendered.
​“I love you, Riley. It is the most inconvenient, dangerous, and utterly ruinous thing in my life, but I love you. And the thought of you on a plane to Portugal, the thought of you being out of my reach while these people are circling… it’s the only thing that actually scares me.”
​I don’t have time to process it. I don’t have time to ask him if he means it or what we’re going to do about Lena. I just reach up and grab the front of his shirt, pulling him down to me.
​The kiss is not soft. It is not a tentative exploration. It is a collision of months of repressed desire, of fear, and of a love that has been forged in the middle of a war zone. It tastes like salt and desperation. Cole groans against my mouth, his hands sliding down to my waist and lifting me until I am sitting on the kitchen counter, my legs wrapping around his hips. He presses me back against the cabinets, his mouth moving to my neck, his hands fumbling with the hem of my hoodie.
​“I’m here,” I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m right here.”
​We are lost in it, a frantic, heated mess of limbs and breath, the world outside my apartment walls ceased to exist. There is only the heat of him, the weight of his confession, and the terrifying, beautiful realization that I am finally, truly his.
​The sound of the front door swinging open is like a gunshot.
​We both freeze. Cole doesn’t let go of me, his body shielding mine, but we both turn our heads toward the hallway.
​Emma is standing there, her hand still on the doorknob. She is wearing her pajamas, a pint of ice cream in her other hand, looking like she just walked over from across the hall for a late-night movie. Her eyes go wide as they land on us, taking in the scene – me on the counter, my legs wrapped around Cole, his hands under my shirt, the undeniable intimacy of the room.
​The silence is absolute.
​“Oh my god,” Emma whispers, the ice cream container slipping from her hand and hitting the floor with a dull thud.