Page 16 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Sixteen

Bittersweet Reunion

The weeks in New York became a dream Lyric never wanted to wake from.

Every day unfolded into something new—glamorous, thrilling, and almost unreal. Kai’s world stretched around her like a glittering, endless stage.

There were galas beneath crystal chandeliers where the ceiling seemed to touch the stars.

Broadway premieres where camera flashes chased her like falling starlight.

Private dinners at restaurants that opened after hours just for them.

Kai placed her hand on his arm and led her into rooms where power was worn like perfume.

And the world noticed.

Her name appeared in articles. Blogs. Tabloids.

Who is the mystery woman at Kai Thorn’s side ?

Her wardrobe transformed.

Velvet, silk, and beaded gowns that shimmered like moonlight arrived daily in ivory garment bags.

And when she hesitated at the extravagance, Kai only smiled.

“You deserve the world!”

---

Days were filled with brunches at rooftop gardens, charity luncheons, and private gallery tours.

Thomas became her quiet, constant guardian, escorting her anywhere Kai couldn’t.

But Kai always came back to her.

Even when business took him away, he left notes. Flowers.

“You’re the only part of my day that never feels like work.”

---

One late afternoon, Kai surprised her.

“I want you at the Winter Gala,” he said, his voice warm with anticipation. “Every year, I host one for my highest-profile clients and partners.”

Lyric smiled. “Of course I will come. You do this every year?”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “This year is different.”

“Why?”

“Because this year, I have you by my side.”

Her heart fluttered.

“There is no place I would rather be.”

Kai grinned.

“I’ll have a glam team come to the penthouse,” Kai added. “Hair, makeup. And I’ll send the dress and shoes I want you to wear.”

-- -

The morning of the gala, the glam team arrived.

Stylists, makeup artists, and a young apprentice carrying trays of brushes and palettes bustled in with polite professionalism.

Lyric stood to greet them—and froze.

The apprentice looked up, sleek blonde hair pulled into a high twist.

Rowan.

Their eyes locked.

“Lyric?…”

Rowan’s face drained of color. She froze, lips parting as if to speak but snapping shut again.

“I didn’t know I was coming here for you. I didn’t know you were in New York!” Rowan blurted, voice a frantic whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

The other stylists glanced over, their expressions uncertain.

Lyric lifted a hand calmly. “Could you give us a minute?”

The team hesitated. They looked confused. The one in charge nodded.

“Come with me,” Lyric said quietly, motioning toward the next room.

---

Inside the private room, Rowan followed like someone walking to her own execution.

“I had no idea! I didn’t know you were the client! If I had—I would’ve switched to the other team. I swear!”

“Rowan, stop.”

Rowan fell silent, blinking fast.

“It’s okay,” Lyric said gently. “I didn’t expect to see you either. But everything that happened between us is in the past. I have a wonderful life now. I’ve moved forward.”

“So you forgive me?” Rowan’s voice cracked.

“I can’t say I’m ready to use that word yet,” Lyric admitted. “But I’m ready to move forward. ”

Rowan’s breath hitched. She just stared, those wide, familiar blue eyes filling with tears.

“One day soon,” Lyric added, “we should have that talk. The one I avoided all these years.”

Without thinking, Rowan surged forward and wrapped her arms around Lyric’s neck. The hug was fierce but brief—she pulled back just as quickly, realizing the years between them made such closeness awkward now.

“I’m sorry—I just…” Rowan swiped at her eyes. “I’m so grateful you’d even consider talking to me.”

Lyric smiled softly. “It’s okay.”

“Let me know when you’re ready.”

“I will.”

---

Lyric gave Rowan a moment to collect herself. When they stepped back into the main room, the stylists looked up, curious.

“This is Rowan,” Lyric announced smoothly. “She’s been a friend of mine for almost twenty years. We were just catching up.”

She winked at Rowan.

The lead stylist’s eyebrows lifted slightly, impressed.

Lyric settled into the chair as the team moved back into position. Rowan gathered her supplies—eyes still damp but steadier now.

As the brushes swept across Lyric’s skin and the stylists began their work, Lyric allowed herself a small, quiet smile.

The past had collided with the present.

But this time, she was in control.

And tonight—the future awaited.