Chapter 47
Emily Windsor's POV
Luke froze for a moment, then took the pouch. His long fingers pulled at the drawstring, and out tumbled a slightly lopsided, handmade lion keychain.
The little lion's eyes were sewn unevenly—one bigger than the other—and its mane was crooked in places. But clutched earnestly in its paws was a miniature, equally handmade set of scales, as if it were a tiny guardian of justice.
I'd spent several late nights making it as a thank-you gift for saving me in Preston District, hunched over tutorial videos, my stitches wandering all over the place. I'd pricked my fingers more times than I could count. The final product looked nothing like the majestic protector I'd envisioned—it just looked goofy.
My ears burned with embarrassment. "That day... thank you. I know it's not very good. If you don't like it—"
Before I could finish, his hand caught my wrist, and he pulled me toward him with a single firm tug.
Luke held the silly little lion in his other hand, staring down at it. The ice in his eyes melted completely, and the corners of his mouth curved upward in a smile he couldn't control. A low, magnetic laugh escaped him.
He was utterly charmed.
Watching him smile, my heart skipped.
"I love it." He looked up, and those deep black eyes were filled with tenderness and warmth he hadn't even noticed himself.
In the next breath, he leaned down, and his burning lips claimed mine without warning.
He kissed me until I couldn't breathe, my only anchor the grip I had on his shoulders. He pressed me back against the cold floor-to-ceiling window, the city's lights blazing outside while inside, all I could feel was the heat of his body and the intoxicating cedar scent that clung to him.
I don't know how long it lasted before he finally loosened his hold, resting his forehead against mine, his breath hot and ragged. In the depths of those dark eyes, I saw the familiar tide of desire rising.
"Emily," his voice came out hoarse and rough, "stay tonight."
My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might break free. Outside, the city glittered like a river of stars, but all I could see were his fathomless eyes, churning with molten intensity I'd never witnessed before—intense enough to consume me whole.
"Okay."
I heard myself answer softly, the word barely audible but utterly certain.
That single syllable ignited the last shred of restraint holding him back.
The searing kiss crashed down on me again, overwhelming and relentless.
His kiss was as domineering as the man himself—possessive, claiming.
The office lay in darkness, only the neon glow from outside streaming in, casting flickering shadows across his sharp features.
His hand slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, his palm scorching against my cool skin, sending a shiver rippling through me.
My fingers tightened reflexively on his shoulders, digging into the expensive fabric of his suit.
The cedar scent mingled with his own masculine warmth, wrapping around me, amplifying every sensation until rational thought began its inevitable retreat.
The kiss traveled from the corner of my mouth to my ear, then down the curve of my neck.
He was like an elegant predator finally closing in on his prey, savoring me with patient deliberation, branding my skin with burning marks that declared me his.
"Emily..." He buried his face in the hollow of my throat, his voice thick with desire and laced with a vulnerability I could barely detect.
My knees went weak. I could barely stand. I had no choice but to let him sweep me into his arms.
Suddenly weightless, I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my face into his solid chest.
He carried me across the office, through a hidden door, into his private quarters.
Inside was nothing but a wide bed and a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the entire New York skyline.
He laid me gently on the bed, and his tall frame followed, covering me, shutting out the glittering world beyond.
His fingertips traced my features—my brows, my eyes—his gaze focused and tender, as if he were looking at a priceless treasure he'd thought lost forever.
"I've been waiting for this day for a very long time," he said quietly.
My heart felt like it was being brushed by a feather—sore and soft all at once.
After all the push and pull, all the hesitation, in this moment, every doubt and fear dissolved into nothing.
I lifted my hand, touching the tense line of his jaw, and leaned up to kiss him first.
That clumsy, bold gesture obliterated the last of his self-control.
Clothing was shed with urgency, and when our bare skin finally met, I could feel the scorching heat of his body and the coiled strength in his muscles.
He paused, restraint flickering in his dark gaze as he locked eyes with me in the dim light, as if seeking final permission.
I said nothing. I only tightened my arms around his neck.
In the next instant, unfamiliar pain and overwhelming sensation hit me all at once. I gasped, my body going rigid.
"Don't be afraid. Relax." He kissed away the involuntary tears at the corners of my eyes, his movements becoming impossibly gentle, patiently guiding me to adjust to him.
Outside, the city shimmered with streaming lights and endless traffic. Inside this small sanctuary, I felt submerged in deep water, swept over and over by the waves he brought—lifted high, then pulled down into warm depths.
I lost track of time, lost myself. All that remained was the hoarse rasp of his voice calling my name again and again, and the hot drops of sweat falling from his brow onto my collarbone.
He was tireless, over and over.
Not until I begged and wept beneath him did he finally, reluctantly, bring it to an end.
I lay curled lazily in his arms, my fingertips absently tracing circles on his firm chest.
Luke stroked my hair in a slow, absentminded rhythm, his chin resting atop my head, savoring this rare peace.
After a long silence, I spoke, my voice muffled. "Luke, those things Lily said..."
His hand stilled.
I lifted my head from his embrace, looking earnestly into his eyes. "I don't want you to face all of that alone anymore. You've done enough for me. Now, let me help you. Okay?"
I didn't want to be the one sheltered beneath his wing, the weakness forcing him to compromise and retreat again and again.
"Luke, I don't want to be your vulnerability." I took his hand, speaking each word clearly and deliberately. "I want to be your weapon."
Luke's unfathomable eyes studied me, his gaze layered and deep—surprised, moved, and touched with a pride I almost didn't catch.
After a long moment, he let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling from his chest and vibrating against my ear.
He rolled out of bed, shrugged on a robe, and said simply, "Come with me."
I followed him into an adjoining room. He opened a computer connected to an internal encrypted network, unlocking it with fingerprint and iris scans. A complex database appeared on the screen.
"These," Luke said, his voice returning to its usual cool composure, "are the mad dogs Mr. Lowe was talking about—the ones on a chain." He gestured at the screen. "A significant portion of the conservative faction within the Victor family profits from partnerships with these gray-market operations. If I want to reform the family, I have to sever these ties. That means cutting off their revenue streams—which is exactly why they're fighting me to the death."
On the screen, a list of seemingly legitimate overseas companies scrolled past—mining conglomerates, deep-sea shipping firms, offshore financial entities. Behind each one lurked an entire web of vested interests.