Page 24 of Gilded

MALIA

T oby wasn’t thrilled with the new direction of our evening, but one look at Luka and Toby kept his mouth shut.

“Fifty-first?” I ask, my mood dropping from sky-high to street level. “Isn’t that where St. Patrick’s Cathedral is?”

“Yes, why?”

I shake my head and push the ugly thoughts away. “I’ve never seen it. But I haven’t seen much of the city. Only get to look at it through the car windows.”

“We can go see it if you want.” I can feel his stare on my face, but I look out the window, soaking in the lights and the people.

“No. I don’t want to see it any sooner than I have to.”

He’s silent a long moment. “Is that where you’re getting married?”

I nod as tears surge into my eyes.

“I guess I thought the wedding would be small, given how little everyone talks about it.”

“My father is inviting everyone personally. He’s calling the most important people, and his secretary is calling the rest.” I shake my head. “It’s strange how he doesn’t acknowledge me for twenty years, then suddenly feels the need to tell everyone I’m his daughter because I’m marrying.”

“He must have an ulterior motive. But he might just want to take credit for all your success.”

I glance at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “If you were to marry Soren without anyone knowing you’re Hugo’s daughter, you own the bragging rights to the success you’ve created with the charity.

If he comes out as your father who was keeping you hidden for your own safety, he steals some of that credit.

The success or failure of a child often shines on or shadows the parent.

As your father, he can suck up the credit for raising you to do these great things. Success by association.”

Even after everything that I’ve done to garner my father’s affections, that realization stings.

“What day is the wedding?” Luka asks.

“The seventeenth. The day after my birthday.”

“Don’t you have a gala?”

“The night before.” I watch the buildings pass and wonder about the lives of normal people. “Do you live in the city?”

“I do.”

“House or apartment?”

“Apartment.”

My mind fills with thoughts of Soren’s house, which is also in the city.

And my brain veers into uncharted territory.

I angle toward Luka and cover his hand with mine, stroking my thumb over the tattoos there.

“Thank you for letting me skip out on this event. My heart’s not in it—” Anymore freezes on my tongue before I push out “tonight” instead.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Come here.”

I eagerly scoot over and rest my head on his shoulder, then slide an arm over his middle. He’s hard and warm, and I lift my head to press my face against his neck. “You smell so good.”

“So do you.” His other arm comes around me for a hug. I’ve never felt whatever this is welling up inside me. It feels like warmth and gratitude and affection.

Then he kisses my forehead, and tears sting my eyes. But these are good tears.

“Where is your apartment?” I ask him.

“About half a mile from where we’re going. I’ll show you when we get out.”

I slip one of the buttons of his shirt in and out of the buttonhole. “How far is it from Tribeca?”

He doesn’t say anything for an extended moment, then cups my cheek and lifts my head until I’m looking into his eyes. But I only hold his gaze for a second before I let it fall to his chest, embarrassed over my not-so-veiled desire for us to see each other after I move to New York.

“Love, look at me.” He tilts my chin up.

“Soren’s not going to let you go where you want when you want.

You need to realize that you’re no freer with Soren than you are with your father.

His security is just as tight as it is on the island.

You’ll always have at least one guard. You can’t just jump on the subway or walk along the street.

Neither is safe, and you’re a trophy wife.

The eye candy that makes other men envious of what Soren has.

And you can bet he’s not going to let you out of his sight, especially given you’ve already tried to run. ”

I hate that information even though I knew it before Luka said it out loud, but I grin with a teasing “What if we accidentally bumped into each other at a coffee shop?”

He grins and runs his thumb across my bottom lip. I cover his hand with mine and take his thumb into my mouth. His lids dip and his expression heats. He pulls his hand from my mouth and replaces it with his lips.

Our kiss is familiar now. I’m learning what he likes, learning how to try new things. He tilts his head and slides his tongue along mine. I hum with pleasure, shifting to get more of my body against his.

But the car slows, and Luka looks up. “We’re here.”

The driver double-parks and gets out to open Luka’s door. Luka rounds the car to get my door. When I get out, Toby’s irritated.

“This isn’t safe,” he tells Luka.

“When she’s with me, she’s as safe as she’ll ever be.”

Luka’s words seem to sink all the way to my bones. A warm, comfortable, secure sensation. One I rarely experience. One that’s so welcome.

“I don’t know how long we’ll be here,” Luka tells him. “Maybe ten minutes, maybe two hours. Deal with it.”

I’m focused on the tension between the men, so when Luka wraps his arm around my waist and guides me toward the stairs, I refocus on the door of the closest shop. Positive Vibes is spelled Pawsitive Vibes, with an image of a cat.

“What’s this?” I ask, confused.

“You said you like cats. I thought this would be fun for you.”

I lift the hem of my dress as we climb the short stairway.

I look into the shop windows, but my gaze is interrupted by a cat walking on the inner windowsill.

No, not a cat. A kitten. It locks gazes with me, then unexpectedly swivels toward me, jumps up on his hind legs, and presses his front paws against the glass.

His little mouth moves in a meow I can’t hear.

My heart instantly swells, and I laugh. I reach out to press my hand against the window opposite his paws, and he dips his head and rubs it against the window like he’s trying to reach my hand. Everything inside me opens and yearns.

“You’ve already made a friend.”

Luka’s voice draws me back, and I squeeze his hand. “Look at his spots. He’s so pretty.”

“It’s a calico.”

“It’s just a baby. He’s so cute.”

“All the cats and kittens are available for adoption.” He tugs on my hand. “Come on.”

My heart is beating ridiculously fast as we step inside. At the front counter, Luka hands the young woman a hundred-dollar bill. “I’m not sure how long we’ll stay.”

She lifts the bill with a grin. “Stay until we close if you want.”

I follow Luka, doing what he does. We sanitize our hands before we enter the secure room, then trade our shoes for slippers provided by the café. I would find the slippers funny if I weren’t so distracted.

A handful of other people are there, drinking coffee at tables, on computers, reading, and chatting with friends.

They’re all wearing jeans and T-shirts or sweatshirts, but no one seems to be surprised by my dress or Luka’s suit.

Then again, there are a lot of wealthy people in New York. Maybe this isn’t all that abnormal.

What strikes me is their total and utter freedom. I’ve never known how that feels, and I doubt they realize how lucky they are.

There are cats everywhere, moseying around the shop, sauntering across counters, jumping from table to table, lounging on one of many available shelves.

There are a few full-grown cats, but the majority are kittens. Kittens with boundless energy, jumping, chasing each other, playing with the customers.

“Oh my God, this is incredible.” I lean into Luka, my hands around his arm. “They’re so cute . Did I say that already?”

His chuckle draws my gaze, and the smile on his face is the one I saw yesterday, the real man beneath all the grit, and there’s a new softness in his grin.

“Have you been here before?” I ask.

He pulls out a chair for me at a table near the window. “No, but I see it when I run.”

“Run?”

“I run through Central Park every day when I’m home. I’ve seen it when I pass.”

“You must live close.”

He sits beside me and points out the window. “There. The tallest one.”

The building is all reflective glass and, yes, very tall. “Oh wow. Bet you have beautiful views of the city.”

“I do.”

A black-and-white kitten flies from its perch on the top of a door and tackles a gray-striped kitten on the floor. I squeal in surprise as the kittens wrestle.

I reach for Luka’s arm. “Oh, no, they’re fighting.”

“No, love. They’re playing.”

Just as he says that, the gray kitten hops out of the tussle. Then he’s up on his hind legs, batting at the black one, making me laugh.

Luka runs the back of one finger down my cheek.

I’m surprised by the soft touch and find him smiling at me.

He gives me a quick kiss before he stands and wanders to the counter, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

And I just watch. Watch the easy, fluid way he moves.

Watch his casual conversation with the woman at the counter.

Watch the way he checks his phone while he’s waiting for whatever he ordered.

And finally, the way he looks up, finds me, and smiles.

I rest my chin in my hand and smile back.

This might be the best day of my entire shitty life.

The calico kitten from the window finds my table. I’m absorbed by how adorable its little face is, what a beautiful orange-yellow his eyes are, and how he moves and rubs against my hand, begging to be petted.

“How easily I’m replaced.” Luka sets two coffees on the table. “You’ve got good taste, buddy. But don’t get used to all this attention. She’s mine.”

His words to me when we first met fill my mind. Remember, you’re mine. If anyone even tries to touch you—including Soren—tell them I’ll cut their hands off.

It’s hard to get a handle on this complicated man. I’m realizing that would take far more time than we have together.