Chapter 26
Nora's POV
When I approached the building entrance, the afternoon sun was already sinking behind the structures, my mind still half-occupied with the stack of case files waiting upstairs. Then I saw him.
Kyle was leaning against one of the pillars by the entrance, and he looked like hell. His eyes were bloodshot, his usually immaculate hair disheveled, his expensive dress shirt wrinkled like he'd slept in it. That polished golden-boy image had completely shattered, revealing something raw and desperate underneath.
I stopped walking for half a second, felt my chest tighten with the instinctive urge to turn around and avoid this entire confrontation. But that impulse died almost as quickly as it came. No. I'm done running from this.
I forced my shoulders back and walked straight toward him, keeping my voice flat and distant. "I already made myself very clear. What are you doing here?"
Kyle pushed off the pillar, his movement unsteady. That's when the smell hit me—sharp alcohol mixed with his cologne. My heart sank.
"Did you drive here drunk?" I demanded, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.
He ran a hand through his hair, his laugh bitter and self-mocking. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, Nora. Had a few drinks, then just... got in the car. I had to see you."
"Jesus, Kyle." I felt anger flare in my chest, mixing with something closer to disgust. "You could've killed someone. Do you want to end up in a holding cell?"
His mouth twisted into something that might have been a smile if it weren't so ugly. "If it makes you feel sorry for me, maybe that wouldn't be so bad."
"Don't." The word came out harder than I intended. "Don't use that manipulative bullshit on me."
Kyle flinched like I'd slapped him, but he didn't back down. Instead, he turned toward his Porsche parked at the curb and pulled something from the back seat.
When he turned back around, he was holding an enormous bouquet of white lilies, their petals perfect and delicate, wrapped in expensive paper with a silk ribbon. My favorite flowers. Of course he remembered that.
"These are for you," he said, his voice cracking slightly as he held them out. "Nora, I know I fucked up. I know it. But I can fix this, I swear—"
I didn't take the flowers. Just stood there looking at them, then at him, and felt something cold and final settle in my chest. "You remember what flowers I like," I said quietly, "but you never remembered what I actually needed."
"You never asked what I wanted from life, Kyle. You just assumed I'd be happy giving up everything to fit into yours."
"I'll change!" His voice rose, desperate and pleading. "I promise, Nora, I'll be better. Just give me one more chance. One."
I opened my mouth to tell him no—to tell him to go home, sober up, and move on with his life. But before I could get the words out, Kyle dropped to one knee right there on the sidewalk.
Oh my God. He's not—
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, dark blue and clearly expensive. When he opened it, I saw a sapphire ring glinting in the afternoon light, the stone easily two carats, surrounded by diamonds.
"Nora Grey," he said, his voice shaking, "marry me. I'll spend the rest of my life making this up to you, I swear it."
I felt my face flush hot with a mixture of embarrassment and rage. People were starting to stop and stare—visitors coming and going from the building. Someone pulled out their phone, clearly recording.
"Kyle," I hissed, keeping my voice low and furious, "get up. This is where I work."
"I'm not getting up until you say yes."
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "A week ago you were making out with another woman. And now you're proposing to me in front of my office? Are you out of your goddamn mind?"
"That was a misunderstanding!" His eyes were wild now, glassy with alcohol and desperation. "I already told my parents—I won't marry anyone else. I told them the only woman I'm marrying is you. You, Nora, no one else."
Something twisted painfully in my chest because for just a second, I could see it—the version of this story where Kyle's desperate romantic gesture was proof of his love, where his willingness to defy his family meant something. But then I remembered that night, his mother's voice dripping with contempt, and most importantly, his silence when I asked if he would give up his inheritance for me.
I crouched down so we were eye-level, keeping my voice steady even though my hands were shaking. "Kyle, I'm tired. I'm tired of this, tired of you, tired of fighting. We're done. Accept it."
I stood back up, turned toward the building entrance.
And then his hand closed around my wrist like a vise.
"No." He surged to his feet, and suddenly his arms were around me from behind, crushing me against his chest. His powerful strength made struggling pointless. "I won't let you go, Nora. I can't—I won't."
"Let go of me!" I twisted in his grip, my voice rising. "Kyle, I swear to God, if you don't let go right now I'm calling the police—"
"You still love me," he said into my hair, and I could feel him shaking. "I know you do. If you didn't love me, you wouldn't be this angry—"
"The only thing I feel for you right now is disgust."
I broke through his hold. His arms loosened just enough for me to pull free, stumbling back a few steps and nearly tripping over the curb. My breath was coming fast, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Kyle stood there with his hands hanging at his sides, the ring box still clutched in one fist.