Page 100 of Storm Warning

A safe presence, nothing more.

He didn’t tell her that his breath caught when she walked into a room. Didn’t tell her how her laugh rewired something in him, how it shook loose parts long ago locked down. Didn’t tell her that when she smiled—really smiled—the static in his head went quiet for the first time in years.

Because none of it mattered if she didn’t choose it. If she didn’t choose him.

He would never ask her to. Never nudge, never hint, never use their power imbalance to steer her into something she hadn’t reached for on her own.

He knew what it had cost her to be here.

To stay.

To trust.

To smile, even a little.

And he would not be the reason she flinched.

Still, that didn’t stop the wanting.

He smiled as he remembered when it started. The first time he saw her. She was checking in Kate while Victoria sneered from across the counter, high on passive aggression. Lena handled it with grace, her voice clipped but calm, professionalism sharp as glass.

He’d watched her from across the lobby and thought,Oh. That’s someone who knows how to survive a storm.

And then she’d laughed with Kate—just a breath of it under her breath, almost private—and he’d wanted to be the reason she did it again.

The more time he spent with her, the worse it got. The way she moved through the chaos, the way she never let anyone see how tired she was. The way she carried herself like she didn’t need anyone, though sometimes—on rare, quiet nights—he thought maybe she did.

He didn’t want to be her boss.

He wanted to be her peace. Her haven.

But he'd wait. He’d wait until the moment she looked at him not just with trust, but with want. With choice. With freedom.

And if that day never came?

He’d still be there. Still protect her. Still stand beside her. Still carry this quiet, ridiculous,heavything inside his chest like it didn’t matter that it hurt. Because it didn't. Lena's peace of mind mattered.

Nick’s low voice murmured something to Kate, who laughed softly and leaned in to kiss his jaw. Their silhouettes blurred together in the fire’s dying light—warm, certain, real.

The sight tugged at something deep and unspoken in David’s chest.

He stood slowly, set his glass carefully down on the table, and moved toward the sliding glass doors.

Outside, the island stretched into shadow. The night breeze whispered through the palms, carrying salt and jasmine and the hush of distant waves. Somewhere in the night, Lena was probably curled on her porch, wrapped in a blanket, cat in her lap, pretending she didn’t feel alone.

His heart panged, and he pressed his hand to the doorframe. Just for a second. Cool wood beneath his palm. A heartbeat’s worth of stillness.

Then he turned away and walked back to his lonely suite.