Page 22 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Twenty-Three

Building and Breaking

Lyric woke to the smell of fresh coffee.

She rolled over, blinking against the soft morning light—and there he was.

Kai stood at the edge of the bed, sleeves pushed up, holding out a steaming mug. His tie was loosened, his hair still tousled from sleep. Rumpled. Gorgeous.

“Morning, boss lady,” he said, voice rough. “You’ve got an empire to run.”

She smiled, sitting up to take the cup. Her heart tugged at the sight of him. Home.

“Thanks.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her in a way that made her nerves hum.

“You sure you want to keep running yourself ragged?” His voice was light, but his eyes were too serious. “You’ve built it. You proved your point.”

Lyric shook her head, forcing a smile. “If I slow down now, I’ll lose the momentum. Besides…” She tucked her legs under her, hugging the mug. “This is the dream.”

Kai’s jaw flexed, the muscle in his cheek tightening briefly .

“You’ve built something incredible,” he said. But this time, there was a slight weight behind the words. “But you don’t have to keep doing it alone. Or at all.”

She frowned. “I’m not alone. I have Callie. And you.”

His lips curved into a smile—but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Callie is only there for a few more weeks. She was only helping with your startup.”

“I know,” Lyric said, feeling a little deflated.

Kai moved closer.

“You do have me. And you know I can give you anything. You don’t have to do this… if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered longer than usual, as if he was trying to say something without words.

Then he stood.

“You’ve done more than enough. Don’t forget about us.”

Lyric nodded. “Of course I won’t.”

Kai crossed to the closet, pulling out his suit jacket.

Before leaving, he paused at the door. “I’m just worried about you. You’re pushing yourself too hard. Be careful.”

“I will,” Lyric promised.

Kai smiled—that slow, devastating smile that always made her forget to breathe.

But this time, something else flickered behind it. Something she couldn’t quite name.

Was he proud of her? Or just waiting for her to burn out?

Had he ever truly believed in her… or just let her believe in herself long enough to break?

---

That morning, at the boutique, everything blurred by in a rush of fittings and fabric.

More customers. More fittings. More chaos.

Lyric barely had time to breathe .

By noon, Callie had shoved a protein bar into her hand and ordered her to eat it between clients.

“You’re running on adrenaline,” Callie warned, pushing a bottle of water toward her. “You need real food. Real sleep.”

Lyric nodded but barely heard her.

Every sale felt like another firework. Another piece of proof that she was doing it. She was real.

And yet… beneath the buzz, a quiet hum of exhaustion vibrated through her bones.

---

Later That Afternoon

Her phone buzzed mid-appointment.

It was Kai.

Don’t forget about me today.

She smiled, her stomach tightening in that way it always did when he surprised her with something thoughtful—and possessive.

She texted back quickly:

Never! Love you.

Another buzz.

I hate how much I miss you. Are you ready to quit yet?

Lyric laughed softly.

But her chest tightened, too.

Was he serious?

---

Lyric let herself into the penthouse around 8 p.m., her feet sore, her hands aching from lifting fabrics and displays all day.

But she was buzzing.

And for once—the penthouse wasn’t dark.

Kai was home. He used to work late, but something had shifted.

He was sitting on the couch, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, laptop abandoned on the coffee table .

He stood when he saw her, crossing the room in a few strides.

“Hey, superstar,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms.

Lyric melted into him, every ache in her body soothed by the familiar weight of his embrace.

“You’re burning the candle at both ends,” he said against her hair.

“I’m okay,” she lied.

He leaned back enough to look at her, studying her flushed cheeks, the faint circles under her eyes.

“You’ve done enough,” he repeated softly. “I don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t have to prove anything anymore,” he said gently. “Not to me. Not to anyone. You know that, right?”

“Isn’t this enough? Me, this life, us?”

Lyric nodded, throat tight.

But she also knew—this was only the beginning.

And if it already felt this heavy… how much worse would it get?

---

A new ritual started Friday nights—Kai was home, and he cooked.

Or rather—he ordered in from her favorite place and plated it like he had cooked.

Lyric laughed when she saw the candles he’d lit on the table, the fake homemade meal, the folded napkins.

“This is cheating,” she teased.

“Survival instincts,” he corrected. “You’re starving. I’m terrible with a stove. This is called adapting.”

They ate together, slow for once, without phones buzzing or people asking for things.

It felt normal. Real.

She told him about a woman who had cried trying on one of her jackets—about the little girl who asked if she could grow up to be ‘ a Lyric too’ . ”

Kai listened. Really listened.

But when she grew too animated talking about her future designs, his hand closed over hers.

“You’ve accomplished so much already,” he said quietly. “Remember, you don’t have to keep chasing more.”

It sounded like praise.

But it felt like a warning.

---

When they crawled into bed, Kai wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

Tighter than usual.

“You’ve been so busy lately,” he murmured. “I just want you here.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. But his fingers tightened possessively at her waist. “Just… don’t forget what matters most.”

“I won’t.”

She wanted to believe that.

She closed her eyes, letting his warmth surround her.

But for the first time since moving to New York, the success she’d once craved felt heavier than the silk sheets she curled beneath.

---

Morning light spilled across the penthouse, soft and pale.

Lyric stirred under the heavy covers, the distant sound of running water pulling her from sleep.

For a second, she thought she had dreamed the tension from last night.

But the hollow ache in her chest said otherwise.

She sat up, blinking at the sunlight, just as Kai stepped out of the bathroom—towel slung low around his hips, damp hair curling against his forehead.

Beautiful. Untouchable. Hers .

He caught her watching and smiled, but a shadow lingered behind his eyes.

An unspoken tension stretched between them.

Without thinking, Lyric pushed the covers back, padding across the marble floors in bare feet.

She grabbed his discarded dress shirt from the night before, slipping it on like armor, the hem brushing her thighs.

Kai turned, tying his tie with precise, mechanical movements.

Lyric hesitated, then stepped into his space and took over—her fingers smoothing the fabric, straightening the knot against his chest.

His hands fell to his sides, letting her.

“I’m going to hire someone,” she said quietly, eyes locked on his tie.

“I swear. It’s just been… a lot faster than I thought. But soon… we’ll get away. Just you and me.”

Kai stilled.

For a moment, he only stared at her, his expression unreadable.

Then he cupped her face in his palms, tilting her head back until their eyes met.

“You mean it?” he asked, voice rough.

Lyric’s throat tightened.

She reached up, covering his hands with her own.

“I do.”

A slow, devastating smile broke across his face—the kind that used to leave her breathless.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, lingering like he couldn’t quite let go.

Neither could she.

When he finally pulled away, he kissed the tip of her nose, then her mouth—soft, slow, savoring.

A kiss that tasted like forgiveness. Like hope.

“I’ll be home early tonight,” he promised.

Lyric nodded, biting back the tears threatening to spill.

She watched him shrug on his jacket, grab his keys, and pause in the doorway .

“Don’t forget,” he said, flashing a crooked grin.

“I’m already proud of you.”

Then he was gone.

The penthouse fell silent.

Lyric stood there, barefoot in his shirt, heart aching with something too big to name.

She had the life she wanted.

She had the man she loved.

Now she just had to find a way to keep both.