Page 31

“Do I sound like I’m joking?”Martha laughed.“Ariel, this is it.Your break.They want you.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.The morning light suddenly too sharp, too real.They want me.Not just my polished sentences slipped into someone else’s memoir, not just my invisible fixes.Me.My words.My name.

All those years of rejections, of barely scraping by, of wondering if I’d ever be more than a ghost behind someone else’s story.I pressed a hand to my mouth, my eyes stinging with tears.And now, here I was, in Sterling’s penthouse, my name on the lips of publishers who’d once dismissed me.It felt surreal, like I’d stepped into someone else’s life.

Sterling would be back soon, sweaty and breathing hard from his run, and I’d tell him, watch his face do that thing where he tried not to look too excited and fail miserably.But for now, I just sat there, phone clutched in my hand, staring at the empty space beside me and wondering how the hell my life had changed so completely in the span of a single morning.

“Ariel?You still there?”

“Yeah,” I managed, wiping at my cheeks.“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good.Because we’ve got meetings to schedule.And, Ariel?”She paused.“I’m proud of you.”

I hung up, clutching the phone to my chest.The penthouse was silent except for the steady rhythm of my own heartbeat.

The sound of the espresso machine hissing in the kitchen pulled me from my thoughts.I glanced toward the doorway, a smile tugging at my lips.Sterling was back from his run, and the scent of coffee was already filling the penthouse.I padded barefoot across the cool floor, the excitement of this morning’s news still buzzing in my chest like champagne bubbles.

I found Sterling in the kitchen, shirt damp from his run, his dark hair tousled.He was scowling at the espresso machine like it had personally offended him.

“You’re supposed to wait for me to make the coffee,” I said, leaning against the doorway.

He turned, his scowl softening when he saw me.“You were sleeping.And this thing is a menace.”

I crossed the room and nudged him aside with my hip.“Move over, billionaire.Let the professional handle it.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips.“Professional?Last time I checked, you burned toast.”

I shot him a mock glare.Holding his gaze, I pressed the espresso button with exaggerated precision.“That was one time.And it was your fault for distracting me.”

His laugh was low and warm.His hands settled on my hips as he leaned in.“Guilty as charged.”

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face.“Martha called.Publishers want my book.My name, my words.”

Sterling went still.Then, in one swift motion, he spun me around and lifted me onto the counter with his hands framing my hips.His eyes burned with pride.“About damn time.”

“I know,” I breathed, my fingers curling into his damp shirt.

The kiss that followed stole my breath and my sanity.It was hard, possessive, joyous.We were both breathless before he pulled back just enough to press his forehead to mine.“I told you they would see how brilliant you are.”

I laughed, giddy.“Took them long enough.”

His lips found mine again, slower this time, lingering with promise.“Their loss.I’ve known for months.”

The espresso machine hissed, breaking the moment.Sterling reached behind me to turn it off, his chest brushing mine.“Breakfast first.Then we celebrate.”

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of laughter and stolen kisses, the anxiety of the past few weeks melting away.Later, as we ate, the news played on the penthouse’s massive television screen.Sterling’s press conference dominated every channel, his face splashed across every news and entertainment channel.

Nightfang Heir Denounces Family Empire, Pledges Fortune to Charity

Billionaire’s Bold Move: Sterling Nightfang’s Redemption

FBI Raids Nightfang Compound: Matriarch Violet Nightfang in Custody

Sterling’s fork clattered against his plate.On the screen, footage showed federal agents swarming the Nightfang estate, and Violet being led away in handcuffs, her once-impeccable coif disheveled.Even then, she stared defiantly at the camera, her face a cold mask.The reporter’s voiceover rattled off the charges one by one, racketeering, money laundering, human trafficking, each word a hammer blow to the family’s legacy.

I reached for Sterling’s hand, my fingers threading through his.He didn’t speak, his gaze fixed on the screen, his jaw tight.

“Are you okay?”I asked softly.