Chapter 11 - The Late-Night Confession
|
The transition to living in the penthouse was seamless, yet emotionally complicated. Grace had her own luxurious guest suite, but the proximity to Ethan blurred the lines of their "contractual" arrangement.
It was 2:00 AM on a Tuesday. The city below was a quiet hum of neon lights. Grace couldn't sleep. She wandered out into the massive living room, intending to get a glass of water, only to find Ethan sitting in his wheelchair by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out into the dark.
A half-empty glass of amber whiskey sat on a small table beside him.
"Can't sleep?" Grace asked softly, stepping into the room wearing a silk robe.
Ethan jumped slightly, turning his chair to face her. The shadows in the room highlighted the exhaustion and deep, lingering pain etched into his features.
"The phantom pains are bad tonight," Ethan admitted, his voice rough. He rubbed his thigh, a useless gesture for legs that couldn't feel the touch, but a psychological comfort nonetheless.
Grace didn't hesitate. She walked over, pulled up a small velvet ottoman, and sat directly in front of him.
"Vanessa used to leave the room when I got like this," Ethan said quietly, staring down at his useless legs. "She hated being reminded that her future husband was broken."
"You are not broken, Ethan," Grace said fiercely, reaching out and gently resting her hands over his. "You survived a tragedy that would have destroyed lesser men. You rebuilt an empire. You protect everyone around you."
"But I can't walk you down the street," he whispered, the vulnerability finally cracking his stoic armor. "I can't stand up to shield you from the cameras. I have all the money in the world, Grace, and I am trapped in this chair."
"I don't need a man to stand up to protect me," Grace replied, her dark eyes locking onto his. "I need a man who sees me. A man who respects me. When you crashed your chair into that photographer to protect me... that was the strongest thing I have ever seen anyone do."
Ethan stared at her, the air in the room suddenly feeling incredibly heavy and charged.
May you like
He leaned forward slowly, bridging the gap between them. Grace didn't pull away. She met him halfway.
Their lips touched. It wasn't a PR stunt. It wasn't for the cameras. It was a soft, desperate, agonizingly gentle kiss that tasted of whiskey and profound, undeniable love. Ethan's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, and for the first time in three years, the billionaire didn't feel paralyzed at all.
