Chapter 86
Chapter 86
The quiet of her place wrapped around them instantly—soft, private, real.
Only then did he lower her carefully back onto her feet, steadying her until she found her balance.
She didn’t step away right away.
“Thank you,” she said softly, the words barely audible.
William looked down at her, expression unreadable but gentle. “Anytime.”
And for the first time that night, inside the walls that were truly hers, Margaux let herself lean fully into the fact that she wasn’t alone.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The quiet of her apartment wrapped around them, broken only by the faint hum of the city beyond the windows. William’s hands were still at her waist, steadying but not holding. Close enough to feel his warmth. Far enough that she could leave if she wanted to.
Margaux tilted her head up, really looking at him now. The sharp edges he wore in public were gone. No performance. No armor. Just him—tired, present, waiting.
She made the decision without announcing it.
Margaux rose onto her toes and kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow and deliberate, her hands sliding up his chest to rest at his collar, fingers curling into the fabric like she needed the contact to stay upright. William inhaled softly against her mouth before kissing her back, deepening it with quiet intention, his hands moving to cradle her face as if she were something fragile and precious all at once.
The kiss unfolded, unhurried—warm, tender, grounding. The kind that felt less like hunger and more like relief. Like coming home.
When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested briefly against his, her breath unsteady but calm.
“I’m going to change,” she murmured.
William smiled—small, genuine, softened at the edges. “Go.”
She stepped back, fingers lingering for just a second longer at his wrist before letting go. As she turned toward the hallway, she glanced over her shoulder, meeting his eyes one last time.
He was still smiling.
And for the first time in a long while, Margaux walked away without fear that he’d disappear the moment she did.
William loosened his tie first, the silk sliding free as he draped it over the back of a chair. He shrugged out of his blazer next, movements unhurried now, like he was finally shedding the night. One by one, he undid his cufflinks, setting them neatly beside his watch before rolling his sleeves up his forearms. He kicked off his shoes, then reached up to undo a few buttons of his shirt—just enough to breathe.
Margaux reappeared from the hallway a moment later.
She’d changed into soft baby-blue pajama pants that sat low on her hips and a white fitted tank top. No bra. Fuzzy slippers padding quietly against the floor. Her hair was looser now, less controlled, and she had an armful of folded clothes hugged against her chest.
William’s gaze flicked over her once—warm, appreciative—but he didn’t comment.
She held the bundle out. “This is all I could find that could potentially work for you.”
He chuckled, stepping closer. “Please. Show me what you found.”
Margaux cleared her throat theatrically and unfolded the first item.
A pair of sweatpant shorts.
Very soft. Very worn. And very short.
William raised an eyebrow. “Okay. So someone feels like seeing my briefs peeking through.”
“They’re not that short,” she shot back, defensive.
“They absolutely are,” he said calmly. “These would barely survive my hips.”
“You have narrow hips,” she argued.
“Which makes this worse,” he replied. “This is an ambush.”
She rolled her eyes. “Show the top now,” he added casually. “For your information, I go to sleep without one.”
She froze. “Oh. You’re sleeping here?” The surprise was clear—but there was no irritation in it. If anything, it sounded like she was recalibrating.
He tilted his head. “Is that not why you’re showing me the night clothes?”
“Oh!” she said quickly. “I just wanted you to be comfortable.”
“You say that as though I don’t live in a suit,” he countered.
She paused. Considered. “Touché,” she muttered.
Then she thrust the clothes back toward him. “Whatever. Do you want them or not?”
William didn’t take them. Instead, he smiled faintly. “Let me touch them. I want to see if they’re good quality.”
Margaux gasped, clutching the clothes tighter to her chest. “How dare you.”
He laughed. “What? I’m discerning.”
“No clothes for you,” she declared. “Decision revoked.”
“And if I sleep here?” he asked mildly.
“No clothes for you,” she repeated, already turning away. “Figure it out.”
William watched her go, amusement lingering on his face. William watched her disappear down the hall, the faint sound of her slippers padding away, amusement still lingering on his face.
“So,” he called after her, leaning back against the counter, voice casual. “What’s the plan now? Wanna eat something?”
Margaux reappeared almost instantly, arms crossing over her chest as she stopped a few feet away. “Are you self-inviting yourself to my fridge?”
“I was planning on ordering, missus,” William replied smoothly, taking a step closer. With the distance closing between them, their height difference became suddenly, undeniably apparent. “I’m civilized.”
She tilted her head, unimpressed but entertained. “Didn’t like the food at the event?”
“I didn’t feel like eating,” he said simply.
She exhaled a quiet laugh. “Same. I barely touched my plate, to be honest.”
William studied her for a moment, then asked, “What do you feel like having?”
A beat. Then, lightly, “It’s late, so don’t get too picky.”
Margaux uncrossed her arms, thinking out loud now. “I want pizza. And fries on the side. And if they have a dessert, that too.” She glanced up at him. “Or—if they’re still open—I’d be down for sushi or Indian.”
William smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You have a very flexible definition of ‘not picky.’”
“I warned you,” she said, unapologetic.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. “All right. Pizza and fries is the safest bet this late.” A pause as he scrolled. “Any allergies I should know about before I accidentally poison you?”
“No,” she said. “But if you order sardines on pizza, I will reconsider letting you stay.”
He looked up sharply. "You don't like sardines?" He asked surprised.
"No!" She jumped, "I do. But they do not belong in pizza, they overpower the rest of the ingredients."
William rolls his eyes.
"Don't act as if you're not the biggest food snob," Margaux told him off.
"I'm not," William counters.
"Almost believable, great job," Margaux answers sarcastically.
He stepped closer, holding the phone out slightly so she could see the screen. “Okay, Anton Ego. Thin crust or thick?”
Margaux leaned in beside him without thinking, shoulder brushing his arm. “Thin. Always thin.”
“Correct answer,” he murmured.
She shot him a look. “Don’t get smug.”
“Too late.”
He finished placing the order, then slid the phone back into his pocket. “It’ll be here in about thirty minutes.”
Margaux nodded, suddenly aware of how quiet her apartment felt again. Intimate. Lived-in. Real.