ETHAN:
Olivia stirs, a low groan slipping past her lips as I haul her out of the car. She’s deadweight in my arms, barely conscious, her fingers twitching against my chest like she’s trying to fight me off.
Cute.
She’ll fight harder when she realizes where she is.
“Take her inside,” Owens mutters, shutting the car door behind us. “I’ll handle things with Marco.”
I nod, adjusting her against me as I make my way toward the elevator. The lobby is silent at this hour, the only sound is of the faint hum of security cameras tracking my movements.
No one comes here. No one outside of my family has ever stepped foot past these doors.
Until now.
Her head lolls against my shoulder, warm breath ghosting over my collarbone. My grip tightens.
Fuck.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside, pressing the code that leads directly to my penthouse. No stops. No interruptions.
The ride is slow. Too slow.
Her fingers twitch against my arm before finally going still, her breathing evening out.
Good.
I want her fully aware when she wakes up. I want her to feel the weight of every reckless decision she’s made tonight, to see the consequences of her choices staring her right in the face.
No excuses. No distractions. Just the cold, hard truth.
She’s fucked up.
And I’m going to make damn sure she knows it.
The elevator dings, the doors sliding open to the quiet darkness of my penthouse. Sleek, minimalist, untouched by anyone but me. It smells like clean leather, faint traces of whiskey lingering in the air. A stark contrast to the scent of sweat, smoke, and liquor clinging to Olivia’s skin.
She’s like a feather in my arms, lost in whatever haze her mind has retreated to. Her cheek is pressed to my shoulder, lips parted, breath shallow. She’s still too warm. Too soft. Too fucking dangerous.
I step inside, my boots silent against the marble floors as I move toward the bedroom. My bedroom.
The thought should make me stop. Should make me drop her on the goddamn couch instead of laying her on my bed. But I don’t stop.
The sheets sink beneath her weight as I settle her down. The dim glow from the city skyline bleeds through the glass walls, casting shadows over her face. I watch the slow rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers twitch like she’s grasping for something in her sleep.
She looks fragile.
She’s not.
I pull back, raking a hand through my hair as I take a step away. Just one.
Then another.
Then I turn and walk out, leaving her to sleep.
For now.
☆☆☆☆☆☆
The muffled sounds start as a whimper, barely audible over the quiet hum of the city outside.
YOU ARE READING
Connection | 18+
Romance"I want you to have control." He was supposed to be my mentor, and I, his mentee. Instead, he became a warlock, and I, his beguiled. In the middle of their secrecy, they will find a connection they had never before. Secrets will be unfolded that the...
