Page 71 of The Cost of Silence

My body reacts every time.

Ugh. I’m hopeless.

Hours pass with me pretending to be productive. It’s almost a relief when I hear the soft chime of the elevator unlocking. He’s home. No, not home. He’s back to his home.

I don’t turn when I feel him before he reaches me. His presence is heavy, electric, a storm rolling into the room. When he finally steps into my line of sight, I lose my breath a little.

Suit loosened. Tie gone. Shirt open at the collar. Eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing he’s hungry for. God, he really is a beautiful man.

“Nico…”

He doesn’t let me finish.

His hand slides into my hair and he pulls me into a kiss that steals the floor out from under me. Hot, consuming, decisive, the kind of kiss that says,this morning wasn’t distance, it was restraint.

My fingers curl in his shirt. His body cages mine against the counter and then he turns, pressing me back into the wall.

And the sharp pressure against my ribs makes me suck in a quick breath.

He freezes instantly, hands stilling in my hair. “What was that?” he says against my mouth.

“It’s nothing,” I whisper.

He pulls back just enough to pin me with a look that sees entirely too much. “Isabella,” he says quietly, dangerously soft. “You lie to me again, and I’ll put you over my knee, and it won’t be playful or pleasurable.”

My stomach flips violently, my core aching at the thought. “I’m just… a little tender,” I admit.

The tension in his jaw eases, not much, but enough that his thumb sweeps gently under my cheekbone. “Then we adjust,” he murmurs. “Come here.”

He takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, as he leads me into the hall before pressing the up button on the elevator.

“Where are we going?” I ask breathless, trying to keep up with his purposeful stride.

“To the one place in this building no one but me is allowed to go.”

The elevator ascends smoothly, higher than I’ve ever been in this tower. When the doors slide open, warm air rushes over my skin.

My breath catches.

We’re on the rooftop, but it’s unlike anything I expected. A glass dome enclosure is overhead, filled with autumn light. Steam curls up invitingly from a heated pool and an adjacent hot tub. The air smells faintly of cedar and eucalyptus.

It feels private in a way even the penthouse doesn’t.

I turn, stunned. “This is… beautiful.”

He watches me, hands in his pockets, eyes warm and dark. “I never bring anyone up here,” he says quietly. “Ever.”

My heartbeat stumbles.

“But you,” he adds, stepping toward me with slow, deliberate intent, “are hurting and it’s partly my fault.”

He feels responsible and I don’t want that. “No, Nico. Nothing you did hurt me.”

His hand lifts, fingertips brushing my ribs with a gentleness so at odds with the man who pressed me to the wall moments ago. “Regardless, I was rough with you, and I take care of what’s mine.”

The words hit low and deep. Am I his? God, I want to be, but that way lies heartbreak. “Nico…”

“Get in,” he says, voice dropping. “The heat will help. I’ll be right behind you.”