Chapter 10 - THE PERMANENT ANCHOR
Midnight had passed over Manhattan.
The guests had departed down the private elevator, leaving the rooftop conservatory quiet, serene, and illuminated only by the soft glow of the city lights below and the moon reflected off the glass roof.
Penelope stood near the edge of the stone balcony, looking out over the twinkling grid of Central Park South. The spring breeze was warm, bringing with it the faint scent of blooming lilacs from the garden behind her.
A pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
Nathaniel pulled her back against his broad chest, resting his chin lightly on the top of her shoulder, his hands clasping over hers where they rested on the stone railing.
“Are you cold?” he murmured into her neck.
“No,” she replied, leaning back against his weight, feeling the firm, steady pulse of his heart against her spine. “I’m perfect.”
They stood together in silence for a long time, watching the yellow taxicabs move like tiny dots of light along Fifth Avenue thirty floors below.
“I received a report from Montreal this afternoon,” Nathaniel said softly, his breath tickling her ear. “Volkov’s former organization has been fully liquidated by the Canadian authorities. The Norfolk ports are secure. The entire East Coast operation is running without a single dispute.”
Penelope smiled, turning her head slightly to look at his profile—the sharp jaw, the quiet grey eyes, the subtle scar near his temple from a life lived on the edge of violence.
“And what about the flower shop?” she asked teasingly. “Are the shipments of Dutch tulips arriving on time?”
Nathaniel let out a low, breathy laugh—a sound that filled Penelope’s chest with an absolute, radiant warmth.
“The Dutch tulips were cleared through customs at four o'clock this morning,” he said smoothly. “I personally instructed the harbor master that if any shipment containing lilies for Albright Floral is delayed by more than ten minutes, his entire department will be audited.”
Penelope turned around in his arms, wrapping her hands around his neck, looking up into his dark, handsome face.
“You’re terrible, Nathaniel,” she murmured, her dark eyes shining with affection.
“I am a man who protects his investments,” he replied, his arms tightening around her waist, lifting her slightly off her feet so her eyes were level with his. “And you, Mrs. Cross, are my primary asset.”
He bent his head, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, deep, and infinitely tender kiss that carried all the quiet promises of the life they had built together from the ashes of betrayal.
The rain from six months ago was gone. The blood was washed away. The traitors were buried, and the city below belonged to them.
May you like
As Nathaniel carried her through the glass doors of the conservatory toward their private suite, Penelope knew with absolute, unshakeable certainty that no matter what storms might gather over the Manhattan skyline in the years to come, she would never be afraid again.
She had found her anchor in the dark, and his name was Nathaniel Cross.
