The beginning of the End

The penthouse wasn't just a home; it was power.

Floor-to-ceiling glass overlooked the city lights, while black marble floors reflected the low golden glow from the recessed lights. Everything was cold and expensive—the leather couch, the silent bar in the corner, the enormous bed in the middle of the room that looked as though it had never been slept in.

It smelled like him. Expensive cologne, leather, and something dangerously familiar.

I felt small in there. Trapped between the man standing in front of me and the feelings I'd been trying so hard to deny.

He stood close enough that I could catch the faint scent of his cologne every time he moved. His gaze dropped to my face, lingering on my lips before returning to my eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, attempting to sound braver than I felt.

"Like what?"

"Like you know something I don't."

A faint smile touched his lips. "Maybe I do."

I rolled my eyes, but the nervous flutter in my stomach betrayed me.

He reached for my hand, his fingers brushing mine before he intertwined them. The simple gesture felt far more intimate than I wanted to admit.

"You've been teasing me all night in that little dress," he murmured.

I raised an eyebrow. "I dressed for myself. Don't flatter yourself."

He chuckled, the sound low and unexpectedly warm.

"Is that what you want me to believe?"

"It's the truth."

"Then look me in the eyes and say it again."

I tried.

I really did.

But standing so close to him, with those intense eyes fixed on mine, suddenly made it difficult to remember what I'd been about to say.

His smile faded.

"What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

"Nothing."

"You're a terrible liar."

"And you're incredibly arrogant."

"Only when I'm around you."

My heart stumbled.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Beyond the windows, the city continued to glitter, but inside that penthouse, everything seemed to have grown quieter.

He lifted my hand and pressed a gentle kiss to my knuckles.

The unexpected tenderness caught me off guard.

"You're not always like this," I whispered.

"Like what?"

"Nice."

He laughed softly. "You think I'm not nice?"

"I think you enjoy making people nervous."

He leaned closer, pausing just long enough for me to meet his eyes. When I didn't pull away, he brushed a kiss against my forehead.

I closed my eyes.

It was such a small thing, yet somehow it made my chest ache.

"Mummy... mummy... see!"

Leo's little voice snapped me back.

I blinked. My hand was frozen over the pot, the spoon dripping into the bubbling stew. The kitchen smelled of onions and spices, and the familiar sounds of home surrounded me.

I had drifted again.

Back to that night.

To his smile, his fingers wrapped around mine, and the way he'd looked at me as though I were the only person in the world.

God.

"That's a dinosaur, Mummy! See!"

Leo, four years old, stood beside me in his little socks, holding up his green T-rex with so much pride.

My baby.

I quickly stirred the pot and forced a smile, my cheeks warming as I pushed the memory away.

"You were making noises again, Mummy," he said, tilting his head.

I crouched down and kissed his forehead, hoping he couldn't see how flustered I was.

"Was I? Mummy was just thinking, my love. Just thinking. Go and sit down. Dinner is almost ready, okay?"

He nodded before running off with his dinosaur.

I stood there for a moment, gripping the kitchen counter and staring at nothing.

Why was I still thinking about that night?

Why did a simple memory of him holding my hand have the power to turn my entire evening upside down?

I shook my head and reached for my phone, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

Then I called my husband.

The call went straight to voicemail.

I sighed and waited for the beep.

"Hey, babe," I said softly. "Dinner's almost ready. Aren't you done with work yet? Leo and I are waiting for you. Call me back when you get this, okay? Love you."