Chapter 104 Chapter 104
Chapter 104
Sunday evening crept in slow, the kind of quiet that follows a day that felt too long. Sam let himself into the penthouse with his key, the door clicking shut behind him softer than usual.
The place smelled like coffee that had been sitting too long and the faint trace of Ethan’s cologne from earlier. Lights were low only the lamp by the couch and the glow from the city outside.
Ethan stood at the window, back to the room, hands in his pockets. He didn’t turn right away. Sam knew that stance: shoulders set like he was bracing for something he couldn’t see yet.
Sam dropped his keys on the marble counter. The sound carried.
“She texted me,” Sam said.
Ethan turned then. Slow. Controlled.
“I thought she might,” he answered.
Sam walked over, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the arm of the couch. “She wanted to meet.
Said it was about you.”
Ethan’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “What did she want to know?”
Sam sat down. “Everything. The office. The woman. Who she is. What she means.”
Ethan stayed standing. “And you said?”
“Nothing.” Sam leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Told her to stay out of it. She didn’t like that.”
Ethan gave a short nod. “She never does.”
They let the silence sit for a minute. Not uncomfortable. Just necessary.
“She’s not crying about you anymore,” Sam went on. “She’s past that. Now she’s thinking. Planning. She sees this as something she can break.”
Ethan moved finally walked to the couch and sat across from Sam. “She always did see people as things to move around.”
Sam studied him. “You okay?”
Ethan looked down at his hands. “I will be.”
Sam waited.
Ethan exhaled. “I care about her, Sam. Celine. More than I expected. More than I planned.”
Sam nodded slowly. “I can see that.”
Ethan met his eyes. “This isn’t like before. With Amelia. That was history. This is different. This is real.”
Sam didn’t interrupt.
“I won’t let her near Celine,” Ethan said. “Not a word. Not a look. Nothing.”
Sam’s expression softened. “You sound sure.”
“I am.”
They sat with that for a moment.
Sam rubbed his jaw. “She asked me point-blank who the woman was.”
Ethan laughed once short, without humor. “Of course she did.”
“I didn’t give her a name. Didn’t give her anything. But she’s watching. She knows where your office is. She knows how to push buttons.”
Ethan’s jaw worked. “Then I make sure there are no buttons left to push.”
Sam leaned back.
“You’re going to have to be careful. Quiet careful. Not the kind where you make a scene. The kind where you build walls she can’t see.”
Ethan nodded. “I know.”
Sam stood up after a minute. “One thing before I go.”
Ethan looked up.
“Protect her,” Sam said simply. “Not with big gestures. Not with anger. Just… protect her. That’s how you keep this.”
Ethan’s eyes didn’t waver. “I already decided that.”
Sam smiled just a small one. “I figured.”
He grabbed his jacket. “Call me if she reaches out again. Or if anything feels off.”
“I will.”
Sam paused at the door. “You’re doing the right thing, man.”
Ethan didn’t answer. Just nodded.
The door closed behind Sam. The penthouse settled back into quiet.
Ethan stayed on the couch for a while, staring at nothing. Then he pulled out his phone.
He didn’t overthink it. Didn’t sit there rehearsing sentences like some nervous teenager. He just unlocked the phone, opened their thread, and let his thumbs move.
Are you okay?
The little read receipt popped up almost instantly. Then her reply.
Yes. I’m good. You?
Ethan stared at those four words longer than four words deserved. His thumb hovered above the keyboard. He could picture her sitting somewhere comfortable—maybe on her couch with her legs tucked under her, phone resting on her knee the way she sometimes did when they texted about work stuff late at night. The thought made the corner of his mouth lift without permission.
Yeah. Just checking in.
Her next message came so fast he almost laughed.
Everything all right?
He hesitated. Not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he knew exactly what he wanted to say and exactly why he shouldn’t say all of it.
Long day. Wanted to make sure you got home okay.
I did. Thank you.
Three simple words, but they landed soft. He could hear her voice in them—quiet, a little surprised, a little pleased. He pictured the small smile she probably gave the screen before she typed. The same smile she’d given him across the café table when he’d asked her to keep talking about her weekend plans with Ariana.
He let out a slow breath through his nose and typed again, slower this time.
If anything feels strange anything at all you tell me. Doesn’t matter what time.
The three dots appeared right away. Stayed. Disappeared. Appeared again.
He waited, thumb still on the screen like he could will the message to come faster.
I will. Promise.
He read it twice. Then a third time. The word promise sat there like it carried more weight than it should have between two people who were still calling each other sir and ma’am at the office yesterday morning.
He set the phone on his knee, screen still glowing. Stared at it like it might tell him something new.
Then he stood up and walked back to the window.
The city kept doing its thing below—cars sliding through intersections, headlights cutting clean lines, people moving in small hurried groups even this late. None of it slowed down for him. None of it cared that his pulse was still moving too fast from a five-second text exchange.
He pressed his palm flat against the glass. Cool. Steady. Grounding.
Protect her.
The thought didn’t arrive loud or dramatic. It just arrived. Quiet. Certain. Like it had been waiting there all day for him to finally listen.
He didn’t know what Amelia had already set in motion. Didn’t know how many calls she’d made, how many old contacts she’d leaned on, how many stories she was ready to spin. But he knew her patterns. Knew how she operated when she felt something slipping out of her grip. She didn’t yell. She didn’t cry. She planned. And her plans usually left people bruised.
Not this time.
Not Celine.
He pictured her again laughing at the café over something stupid he’d said about Ariana’s reality-TV obsession. The way her shoulders had relaxed when she realized he wasn’t judging, just listening. The way she’d looked at him across that small table like he was someone worth talking to, not someone who signed her checks.
His free hand curled into a loose fist at his side.
He turned away from the window. Grabbed the phone again. Opened the notes app and started typing fast.
Fourth-floor security updates.
Rotate driver assignments—different faces every shift.
Daily access-log reviews—flag anything after 5 p.m.
Additional badge scans for visitors, no exceptions.
New protocol: no unescorted guests on executive level.
He read it back once. Saved it. Then opened his messages to the head of security.
We need to talk tomorrow. First thing. My office.
He hit send.
The phone went dark in his hand.
He didn’t move right away. Just stood there in the middle of the living room, letting the quiet wrap around him.
He didn’t sleep much that night.
Lay on his back staring at the ceiling, replaying the café again and again like a song he couldn’t turn off. The exact second she’d laughed head tipped back just enough that the light caught her throat.
The way her voice had gone soft when she said his name without anything formal in front of it. The small, surprised look she’d given him when he’d asked her to keep talking, like she wasn’t used to someone wanting to hear the rest of her sentence.
He rolled onto his side, arm under his pillow.
Tomorrow was Monday.
Back to the office.
Back to desks and emails and meetings and pretending everything was business as usual.
Except nothing felt usual anymore.
And the strangest part? He didn’t hate it.
He liked the way his pulse kicked up when her name appeared on his screen. Liked the small rush he got knowing she’d answered so fast. Liked that she’d promised him something even if it was just a promise to tell him if something felt off.
He pulled the covers higher.
Whatever came next Ame
lia’s next move, the next question, the next veiled threat he’d be there.
Not loud.
Not reckless.
Just there.
For her.
For Celine.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep came eventually.
Slow.
Steady.
With her name still moving quietly through his thoughts like it belonged there.