Page 25 of Falling for Mr. Ruthless (The Rules We Break #1)

We disentangle slowly, adjusting clothing, rebuilding armor piece by careful piece. The silence between us hums with everything unsaid—questions, confessions, truths neither of us is ready to face.

"Jaden will be home in an hour," I say finally, smoothing my skirt with hands that tremble slightly. "Latanya's bringing him from karate."

"I know." He buttons his shirt, movements precise and controlled. The mask sliding back into place. "I have some work to finish anyway."

The normalcy of the exchange—the pretense that what just happened hasn't fundamentally shifted something between us—would be laughable if it weren't so necessary. If it weren't the only way to function in the aftermath of walls crumbling.

He moves to his office, leaving me alone with the ghost of what just happened. With the scent of him on my skin. With the knowledge that "just this once" is already a lie I can't maintain.

I pick up my tablet, needing distraction. Needing to recenter. Needing to remember who I am beyond this body that betrays me with every touch, every look, every memory.

My phone buzzes from the coffee table—a missed call notification. Three voicemails I ignored while Jakob was... while we were...

I press play on the first message, Latanya's voice filling the quiet space.

"Nel, it's me. Just checking in. You seemed different today." A pause, the sound of her breath against the receiver. "This guy you're seeing—I'm not judging, I swear. Just...be careful, okay? You've been through enough. Maybe we should talk about it. Really talk."

Another pause, longer this time. "Call me when you get this. Doesn't matter how late."

I should feel grateful for her concern. For her consistency. For the way she's always been my touchstone through everything—the divorce, single motherhood, rebuilding my career.

Instead, something about her voice raises the fine hairs on my neck. That slight edge beneath the care. The way she says ‘ this guy’ like she knows exactly who it is. The thread of possession woven through her words.

And why didn't I tell her? The question surfaces like a bubble breaking, unexpected and revealing.

Why, after years of sharing everything with Latanya, did I hide that I'm sleeping with my ex-husband?

Latanya, who held me through the divorce. Who wiped my tears and promised me I'd be better without him. Who's never once wavered in her loyalty.

The answer sits like ice in my stomach: Because I knew how she'd react .

Because something in me recognized she'd never approve.

Because for all her support, all her steadfastness, something about Latanya's devotion to my independence has always felt.

.. absolute . Unyielding. As if my strength exists in opposition to Jakob, never alongside him.

Or maybe I'm imagining things. Maybe what happened with Jakob has me seeing shadows where there's only friendship. Loyalty. The unconditional support she's offered since the day we met.

I delete the message, promising myself I'll call her tomorrow. Explain that it was just a casual thing. Nothing serious. Nothing that will change us.

Another lie to add to my growing collection.

I open the audit logs—my evening routine, checking access patterns, monitoring for irregularities.

But tonight, I can't concentrate. The numbers blur before my eyes, patterns refusing to emerge. All I can think about is Latanya's voice. Jakob's touch.

The wedding ring against his chest. The way everything I thought I knew seems suddenly unstable, shifting beneath my feet like sand in the tide.

I set the tablet aside, moving back to the window where this all began hours ago. The city lights blur into constellations, each pinprick illuminating lives being lived, choices being made, stories unfolding behind glass and concrete.

Somewhere in that maze, Latanya waits for my call. Somewhere in this apartment, Jakob works behind a closed door, pretending we haven't just rewritten every rule we set.

I press my forehead against the cool glass, exhaling slowly.

The woman reflected back at me isn't the same one who stood here waiting for him earlier.

She's someone I haven't met before—someone who's stopped fighting the current.

Someone who's recognized that some forces can't be calculated, controlled, or denied.

I've spent years constructing walls around what Jakob and I were. Built a career on the foundation of our fracture. Convinced myself that what we had was beautiful but finite—complete in its destruction. Told myself so many times that I'd moved beyond what broke me that I almost believed it.

But here, now, with the imprint of his body still warm against mine and his ring a confession against his chest, I surrender to a simpler truth: whatever exists between us isn't finished. It may never be. And for tonight —just tonight— I'll stop pretending otherwise.

I won't call this a reconciliation. Won't label it a second chance. Won't burden what we're doing with expectations of forever or even tomorrow.

The love never left—that's the truth I've hidden even from myself. But what happens next isn't something I'm ready to name.

Just this. Just now.

Just the acknowledgment that some fires don't die—they just burn differently.

The professional threat I've been tracking and the personal safety I've been guarding feel suddenly, terrifyingly connected. But for the first time in four years, I'm not facing the unknown alone.

And the only person I can turn to is the same man I just swore I wouldn't need again. The same man whose taste is still on my tongue. The same man who whispered ‘you've always been mine’ while buried inside me.

The same man I'm terrified to admit might be right.