Page 44 of Blackwood

I laugh. “Did it work?”

He drags a hand down his face. “No. I think it just turned her on more. She asked if I meant emotionally or financially.”

“God, you’re like pheromones for unhinged women.”

“I swear I attract feral energy like it’s my damn job.”

We both turn to the dance floor just in time to see Ellie draped all over a Wall Street clone with too much gel and not enough self-preservation.

Zeke squints toward the dance floor. “Is that Pete 2.0?”

“It’s like Pete 5.0 at this point. She’s chewing through Wall Street interns like they’re seasonal flavors.”

“Goddamn, she’s gonna eat him alive,” he says.

“She already has. He just thinks the edge of death is foreplay.”

Zeke barks out a laugh. “Poor bastard doesn’t even know he’s the appetizer.”

We crack up, sharp, ugly, perfect. For a second, it’s just us again. The way it used to be.

I bump his shoulder. “So… not checking in on an op?”

“Not tonight.” But something in his face tightens, just a small flicker. I know him too well not to notice.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he says, a little too fast.

I turn to face him fully. “Ezekiel Malik Blackwood.”

He exhales, eyes skimming past me. “Your real present’s downstairs. In the penthouse. Come with me, I want you to see it.”

I narrow my eyes. “What kind of present?”

His lips twitch. “The kind you don’t open in front of a crowd of drunk socialites.”

I give him a look, but he’s already stepping back, nodding toward the elevator.

“Come on.”

The door slides open and my heart stops. Zeke doesn’t say a word. Just places a hand on my back and gently guides me inside. The penthouse is still. Just the soft hum of the city beyond the glass and the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.

Someone is standing by the window, facing the skyline. My chest caves as he turns and looks at me.

“Daddy?”

Chapter 16

BELLA – Age 18

Our Penthouse

I’ve got to be dreaming. Or maybe someone spiked the champagne tower with something much stronger than Dom, because there is no fucking way this is real. No way he’s actually here, in my living room of all places, looking at me with those same warm, chocolate-brown eyes that raised me.

Time has kissed his skin with sun and age, deepened the lines around his eyes and peppered his hair with gray. He’s older now, yes. But not smaller. Not faded. Just as strong, stronger even.

“Daddy?” I say again because that’s literally all I can get out.