chapter 15

SIERRA’S POV

The sleepover.

I watched them from the kitchen doorway. Louis was on the floor of the giant living room, surrounded by every pillow and blanket he could find. He was building what he called a “fort,” but it looked more like a pillow avalanche about to happen.

Katie was in the middle of it all, giggling, her hair a mess, wearing one of Louis’s old t-shirts like a dress. She was handing him cushions, her little face serious with the importance of the job.

“That one goes on the tower, Daddy Louis,” she instructed.

*Daddy Louis.*

The name had slipped out an hour ago, unprompted. Louis had frozen, a pillow in his hands. His eyes had shot to mine, wide with shock and a hope so vulnerable it broke my heart. I’d given a small nod.

Now he wore the title like a crown.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting her. He placed the cushion on top of the wobbly pile.

My heart was a tangled mess. This was everything I had feared. The fast attachment. The blurring of lines. Katie was falling for him with the pure, trusting love only a child can give. And he was falling just as hard.

It was beautiful.

And it was terrifying.

Because outside these walls, a man wanted to hurt us. To use her.

I walked over and sat on the edge of the couch. “It’s almost bedtime, bug.”

“No! The fort isn’t finished!” Katie protested, clinging to Louis’s arm.

Louis looked at me, his expression soft. “Five more minutes? We need to defend the castle from the dragon.”

He was so good with her. Natural in a way I never imagined a man like him could be.

“Five minutes,” I agreed.

My phone buzzed. A text from Jasmine.

**Jas:** *Everything quiet here. You okay in the dragon’s lair?*

**Me:** *More okay than I expected. She’s happy.*

**Jas:** *And you?*

I looked at Louis, who was now pretending to be slain by a giggling Katie, who was “attacking” him with a throw pillow.

**Me:** *I’m… getting there.*

Later, after stories and negotiation (three stories, not two), Katie finally fell asleep in the middle of the pillow fort, curled into Louis’s side. He was sitting propped against the couch, one arm around her, utterly still, as if moving might break the spell.

I knelt down to pick her up. “I’ll take her to bed.”

“Let me,” he whispered. He shifted carefully, sliding his arms under her. He stood up, holding her against his chest with a gentleness that made my throat tighten. She nuzzled into his shoulder, sighing in her sleep.

He carried her upstairs to the guest room we’d set up for her. He laid her down on the big bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. He stood there for a long moment, just watching her breathe.

I turned on the nightlight—a soft, glowing star we’d found in a closet.

We walked out into the hallway, leaving the door open a crack.

The house was quiet again. The kind of quiet that feels heavy with things you need to say.

We stood in the dim hall light. He was close. I could see the tired lines around his eyes, but also a new softness.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For letting me have this.”

“She’s not something to let,” I said. “She’s yours. You have a right to know her.”

“I know. But after how I must have seemed… cold, distant… you didn’t have to trust me. But you did.”

I leaned against the wall, hugging myself. “I saw how you looked at her. That wasn’t an act.”

“No.” He took a step closer. “And how I look at you isn’t an act either, Sierra.”

My breath hitched. The air between us crackled back to life, that same magnetic pull from the kitchen, from years ago.

“Louis…”

“I know,” he said, his voice low. “It’s too fast. It’s complicated. We have a lifetime of catching up to do. And a threat to eliminate.” He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my cheek. “I just need you to know my intention. I’m not going anywhere. Not from her. And not from you.”

His touch was a brand. His words were a promise.

I wanted to believe it. I wanted to fall into this feeling, into him. But the ghost of Victor, the memory of that photo, stood between us.

“What happens tomorrow?” I asked, my voice small.

“Tomorrow, I continue making sure you two are safe. Tomorrow, I start dismantling Victor Hale’s world, brick by brick.” His hand dropped from my face. “And tomorrow, if you’re ready… we start figuring out what this is.” He gestured between us.

I nodded, words failing me.

“Get some sleep, Sierra,” he said. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. It wasn’t a lover’s kiss. It was a promise. A claiming. A goodnight.

Then he turned and walked down the hall to his own room.

I stood there for a long time, my skin tingling where his lips had been.

I went to my room but I couldn’t sleep. The house was too quiet, my thoughts too loud. After an hour, I got up to get water.

As I passed the grand staircase, I saw a light on in the room below. Louis’s study.

I walked down slowly. The door was open a crack.

He was at his desk, but he wasn’t working. He was just staring at a small, silver picture frame in his hands. I couldn’t see what was in it.

His shoulders were slumped. In the low light, he looked less like a billionaire and more like a man carrying the weight of the world.

He must have felt me watching. He looked up. His eyes were shadowed.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

I shook my head and walked in. “You either.”

He put the frame face down on the desk. “Too much to think about.”

I came around the desk. I saw then what was on the other screens. Security feeds. Live video of every angle of the property. The front gate. The perimeter walls. The hallway outside Katie’s room.

He was watching over us. Personally.

“You should rest,” I said softly.

“I will. Soon.” He looked up at me. In the glow of the monitors, his face was all sharp angles and deep shadows. “I keep thinking about what I missed. Five years of birthdays. First words. First steps.”

The pain in his voice was a living thing. It called to the same pain in me.

“You’re here now,” I said. I reached out, almost without thinking, and placed my hand over his where it rested on the desk.

He turned his hand over and laced his fingers through mine. His grip was strong, sure.

“I’m here now,” he repeated, like a vow.

We stood like that in the quiet dark, connected by our hands and our shared, silent fear for our child. The threat was outside, but in this room, for this moment, we were a team.

It felt like the beginning of something.

Or maybe it was just the calm before the storm.