Chapter 8 - The Desperate Trap
The convoy of black SUVs pulled into the subterranean garage of DeLuca Tower at breakneck speed.
Before Declan could even put the vehicle in park, the rear door was ripped open from the outside.
Vincent stood there, his tie undone, his chest heaving, his face white with terror. He didn't look like a mob boss or an untouchable billionaire. He looked like a man who had stared into the abyss of losing the only thing that kept him tethered to the earth.
“Emily,” he breathed, his voice cracking with an emotion I had never heard in him before.
He pulled me out of the car and crushed me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me so tightly I could barely breathe. His face buried in my neck, inhaling my scent, his entire body trembling with aftershocks of adrenaline.
“Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” Vincent demanded, pulling back slightly to cup my face in his large hands, his eyes frantically cataloging every inch of me. “I will skin him alive. I swear to God, Declan, where is he?”
“He’s in custody, Vincent,” I said softly, resting my hands over his. “I’m okay. He didn't hurt me.”
Vincent closed his eyes, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing ragged. “When Declan told me he pulled a gun on you... I felt my soul die, Emily. If anything had happened to you because of me—”
“It wasn't because of you,” I said, looking into his eyes. “It was because of who Tyler was. And I fought back, Vincent. I didn't hide. I broke his wrist and kicked the gun away.”
A slow, incredulous smile broke through the darkness of Vincent’s face. He let out a breathless laugh, cupping my cheeks and kissing me with an intensity that made the surrounding guards discreetly look away.
“My brave, fierce girl,” he murmured against my lips. “Come upstairs. We need to talk.”
Upstairs in the penthouse, the notebook lay on the dining room table between us.
Vincent stood by the window, looking out over the city as rain began to pelt the glass.
“Why didn't you tell me?” I asked gently, running my fingers over the leather cover. “You’ve been watching over me for six months.”
Vincent turned slowly, leaning against the glass. “Because I was ashamed, Emily.”
“Ashamed of what?”
“Of what I am,” he said, his voice dropping into a dark, vulnerable cadence. “I am a man of violence. I inherited an empire built on fear and intimidation. The first day I walked into L’Aura and saw you... you were arguing with the chef because he had thrown away leftover bread that could have been given to the shelter down the street. You were furious, beautiful, and completely pure.”
He walked toward me, each step heavy with truth.
“I knew that bringing you into my world would paint a target on your back. So I stayed in the corner booth. I drank my coffee. I watched you smile at strangers. And when I found out Tyler Sterling was treating you like garbage, making you hate your own reflection, I wanted to burn his entire life to the ground.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because you loved him once,” Vincent said simply. “And I didn't want to be the monster who took away your choices. But that night at the restaurant... when he stood up in front of everyone and tried to break your spirit... I couldn't sit in the shadows anymore. I didn't care about the risk. I didn't care about the consequences. I just needed you to know that you are the most desirable, magnificent woman in this entire city.”
My heart swelled with a love so fierce it terrified me.
I stood up, walking across the marble floor until I stood right in front of him. I reached out, resting my palm against the hard plane of his chest, feeling the frantic, steady beat of his heart.
“I don't see a monster, Vincent,” I whispered. “I see a man who gave me my life back. A man who taught me that I don't have to shrink to be loved.”
Vincent’s breath hitched. He wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me until I was sitting on the edge of the mahogany table, stepping between my thighs.
“I love you, Emily,” he confessed, the words raw, uncalculated, and absolute. “Not as a contract. Not as a game. I have loved you since the moment you handed me that first cup of coffee and smiled as if the world were good.”
“I love you too, Vincent,” I whispered, tears of joy slipping down my cheeks.
May you like
He kissed me then, a deep, passionate promise sealed in the quiet warmth of the penthouse, while outside, the storms of Chicago finally began to clear.
***
