Bound by Honor *2ND DRAFT*

XVII

January 15

Estella POV

I leaned back in my chair for a moment, letting the city lights outside blur into streaks of gold and silver. Even through the thick glass, I could faintly hear the city's pulse—the low, steady thrum of traffic, the laughter and music from the rooftop bar across the avenue, and the faraway wail of a siren carving through the night. I'd spent so many evenings in this office, watching the city from above, dreaming and worrying. But tonight, the view felt different. Everything we'd built—everything I'd worked for—was finally moving in the right direction. It wasn't about mergers or titles anymore; it was just the quiet knowledge that we were thriving, that we were doing this together.

The desk lamp cast a pool of golden light across the reports scattered in front of me. My pen hovered over a line of numbers, but my focus kept drifting. My mind replayed the week's meetings, the way Malakai's hand had lingered on my lower back during tense negotiations, the shared glances that said more than words ever could. I thought about Easton, too—his steady calm, his dry humor, the way he'd stood by me through every setback and every victory.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and before I could answer, Malakai appeared in the doorway like he always did, effortless and alert, his presence filling the space. He scanned the room, eyes sharp and assessing, before they landed on me. The tension in my shoulders eased without me even realizing it.

"You're still buried in numbers, baby?" he asked, voice teasing but soft, the edge of a smile tugging at his mouth.

I glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. "I just want to make sure everything's right," I said, gesturing to the stack of reports in front of me. "I can't let anything slip through."

He crossed the room in three easy strides, his movements as fluid as ever. He leaned over the desk, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. He smelled like spice and something darker—amber, maybe, or the leather of his jacket. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle but sure.

"You don't have to be perfect, gorgeous. You've handled more in the past year than most people handle in a lifetime." He let his hand drift down to rest lightly on my waist, steady and grounding.

I looked up at him, smirking. "And you've handled me more than anyone should be required to."

His lips twitched into a smile, a flash of dimple appearing on his left cheek. "Baby, I signed up for it. Every bit of it. And I wouldn't trade a second." He squeezed my waist, voice dropping lower. "I'm telling you this now, because you look so damn unstoppable right this minute, I can't keep quiet."

I laughed softly, nudging him with my shoulder. "Unstoppable, huh?"

"Yeah. You. Us." He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "I fall in love with you all over again every time I see you like this. Focused. Fierce. Gorgeous."

I rolled my eyes playfully, but my cheeks warmed at his words. "You say that every time."

"Only because it's true every time," he murmured. "You make me better, baby. You make everything better."

Before I could answer, the moment was broken by Easton's voice from the doorway. "You two done with the romance portion of your meeting, or should I come back later?"

Malakai didn't even look at him. "She's focused," he said, voice low, possessive.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Focus, Easton. We'll save the dramatics for later."

Easton grinned, stepping into the room with a stack of files. He was tall and broad-shouldered, but there was a gentleness to him—a quiet strength that made everyone in the company trust him, even when he barked orders. He dropped the files on my desk, glancing between Malakai and me with an amused expression.