Chapter 10 - The Broken Glass|
By one in the morning, the storm over the lake had reached its peak.
High winds slammed rain against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the master suite.
Isa couldn't sleep. She sat in the high-backed armchair near the fireplace, wearing her soft silk pajamas, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring into the dying embers.
She knew what Rhett was doing tonight. She wasn't naive. She had worked for Valon Global for three years; she knew that when Rhett Valon left his estate at midnight in a dark wool coat, men didn't survive the encounter.
The heavy oak doors of her suite clicked open softly.
Rhett stepped into the room.
He looked wet, cold, and exhausted. His dark hair was soaked from the rain, his coat draped over his arm, his white shirt sticking slightly to his broad shoulders.
He stopped near the doorway, staring at her through the amber shadows cast by the hearth.
"You're still awake," he noted softly.
"I was waiting for you," Isa replied, lowering her legs and standing up slowly, walking across the thick Persian rug toward him.
Rhett took half a step backward, holding up a hand to stop her. "Don't come close, Isa. I smell like rain... and blood."
Isa didn't stop. She took two more steps, closing the distance between them until she was standing directly in front of his broad frame.
She reached out, her small hands catching the damp lapels of his unbuttoned shirt, looking up into his storm-gray eyes.
"It's over, isn't it?" she whispered softly.
"Arthur Cain will never threaten you again," Rhett confirmed, his voice raspy and low. "His family is finished in Chicago."
Isa felt a sudden, strange mixture of horror and profound, overwhelming safety. This man—this dangerous, ruthless criminal king—had just dismantled an entire political dynasty to ensure she could walk down the street without fear.
"Rhett..." she murmured, her thumb gently tracing the wet collar of his shirt.
Rhett stared down at her pale, beautiful face, his gray eyes darkening with a fierce, intoxicating heat that made her breath hitch in her throat.
"I tried to stay away from you, Isa," Rhett whispered, his hands coming up to gently hover near her waist, still terrified of hurting her damaged ribs. "For three years, I kept you at arm's length. I told myself you were off-limits. Clean. Civilized."
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"And now?" she asked, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Now," Rhett rasped out, his large palms finally settling gently against her waist, pulling her small body flush against his, "you're in my house. And I'm never letting you go."
