Page 24 of The Final Contract (The Black Ledger Billionaires #5)

T here’s nothing like being back home.

Killian picked me up before lunch and drove me straight here, to the sanctuary of my penthouse.

The second the door closed behind us, I let out a long, grounding breath and wandered down the hall.

My bedroom felt like a waiting embrace, and I didn’t resist. I collapsed backward onto the bed, limbs sprawled, eyes closing for just a second as I sank into the moment.

I didn’t even hear him follow, but then?—

A low chuckle rumbles from the doorway, deep enough to vibrate straight through me. “My apartment really that bad?” His leather jacket is slung over one shoulder as he leans against the frame.

I push up onto my elbows with a smile. “No.”

If anything, his apartment now carries some very fond memories. My smile lingers as I stand and make my way toward him, hips swaying in a way I don’t bother disguising. His eyes track me like a predator—slow, deliberate, hungry. I tilt my chin up when I reach him, craning my neck to meet his stare.

But my expression sobers before I can stop it.

“Killian—what are we doing?”

Heat flickers in his gaze, the kind that makes my pulse jump.

“Who says we have to be doing anything?”

The words land sharp. I know what he means.

The sex. He’s drawing a line in the sand before I can, telling me not to expect more than what’s already happened.

Maybe because he’s the one escorting me to dates as I hunt for a husband to contract.

Maybe because Killian doesn’t do anything else but fuck.

It should be the right thing. Keeping it casual. No complications.

The actual right thing would be to fire him—to assign a new bodyguard and stop thinking about his tongue, his pierced cock, the way his control shatters when he lets go. But it’s too late for that. I’ve had a taste. And now I know what it’s like when Killian unravels me.

“So…just sex, then?” My voice is soft, but my throat is tight. “It doesn’t have to mean anything?”

His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against the hard wall of his chest.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he murmurs, voice rough enough to scrape—and it sounds like a lie. Or maybe that’s just what I want it to sound like.

The heat of him is instant, searing through my clothes, leaving me unsteady.

“We’ll walk away when I find a suitor?” I whisper, as though saying it out loud makes it easier. “No complications?”

I swear I feel his fingers flex against my hip at that, his jaw hardening like he’s grinding the words between his teeth.

“None,” he says finally.

His mouth claims mine before I can think better of it—hot, wet, consuming. His tongue slides against mine, demanding, and I moan helplessly into the kiss.

Then a sharp vibration rattles between us.

I jolt with a startled yelp, realizing it’s his phone pressed between our bodies. He grins against my mouth, amused at my reaction, before pulling the device from his pocket.

The screen lights up: Jaxon Kane.

Killian swipes his thumb across the screen, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Shaw.”

A long, exaggerated smooch noise echoes through the speaker.

“Sorry to break up make-out time.”

Killian’s face hardens, all sharp lines and fury. His grip on my hip tightens until I feel the bruise forming. “If you’re watching her cameras right now, I’ll put a bullet through your eyes myself.”

I gape, heat rushing up my neck.

My mouth works soundlessly before I manage to get out, “Excuse me? I did not sign up to be some goddamn reality show on display.”

Jaxon’s laugh filters through, dry and careless. “Relax, princess. I’m not a perv. Just making sure the new system is actually doing its job since you two finally made it back.”

I roll my eyes, looking around, trying to spot where the cameras are.

“And don’t worry, I’ll keep your little forbidden affair between us girls.”

My phone buzzes with a text from Stasia—a reminder about Aurora’s birthday party. The gifts I bought arrived, wrapped beautifully, and Ro instantly started shaking them.

The normalcy in all this chaos makes me smile.

Killian, however, doesn’t smile. His jaw flexes once, twice. “What do you want, Jaxon?”

“Grumpy! Sheesh.” There’s a lot of typing. “The kid gave me a composite of your stalker. I’m running it through every facial-recognition system I can bend to my will. But it’s gonna take time—a day, maybe two.”

Killian lowers the phone and pins me with that searing stare. “You want to see it?”

Every instinct screams no. To hide. Pretend none of this exists. But that’s not an option anymore. My throat bobs as I nod, making my way out of my room and toward the kitchen. “Yeah. I need to.”

Following me, Killian lifts the phone back to his ear. “Send it.”

“Already did,” Jaxon says, and then his voice is muffled like he’s eating something.

“There’s more. No scrambler last night, so I got him on the cameras.

Not his face, though. He knew he would be recorded—kept his head down, hat pulled low.

But…I caught some warped reflections when he moved through the kitchen.

I’ll see what I can do with them and add them to the composite. ”

No scrambler.

My stomach knots, icy realization washing through me. “Maybe he didn’t have time to prep. He wasn’t ready for last night.”

“Bingo,” Jaxon says, mouth even more full of food than before.

“Just what I was thinking,” Killian adds.

There’s a knock at my door, and the guard opens it, letting Eve in with Finn trailing behind her. She raises her eyebrows in greeting.

Jaxon mumbles, “Mmm, so good.” He’s literally licking his fingers clean on the other end of the line. Like—Christ almighty—I’m running for my life and he’s chowing down on something.

“What the fuck are you eating?” Killian bites out, like it’s been bothering him too.

“The world’s best fucking chocolate chip cookies. Freshly baked by my future wife.” He kisses someone on the other end. Eve makes a big show of rolling her eyes.

“Okay, I need to go smear melted chocolate on someone and then lick it off.”

“Fucking Christ, Jax,” Eve blurts out. “Could’ve died happy never hearing that.”

“Hey,” he bites back—their friendly banter always entertaining. “I had to hear about your fucking nipple piercings. I will never be the same.”

Someone laughs, and the phone muffles again. “Gotta go.” The call ends, and we fill Eve in on the news. A peek at Killian’s phone and I smirk. He’s looking at chocolate chip–cookie recipes.

He catches me, and I bump his shoulder with mine.

“Cookies sounding good?” I ask, already heading to the cabinet to pull the ingredients. I have a recipe memorized because Stasia and I make them all the time for the kids.

“I’m always ready to eat.”

His voice is deeper, and I blush at the double meaning—which he totally intended. If Eve caught it, she doesn’t let on.

“What was different about last night? Why hadn’t he been ready?” I ask, my voice cracking as I measure out flour and brown sugar while my heated skin cools.

“Hmm.” Eve taps a long red nail on her lip. “Nothing out of the usual.” She sits at one of the barstools as I begin scooping cookies onto baking pans. Killian steals a chocolate morsel from the edge of the bowl, and I smack his hand.

“I looked up a few places, made a few calls, and sent the details to Barrett.”

Killian bristles at the mention of last night’s date.

“Why didn’t you send it through the Ledger app?” Killian asks. That’s right: all the suitors are already Ledger clients. They have their own profiles, and all scheduling goes through the app.

“I was on the go, okay! Elena called and needed me to taste-test some cheesecake. It was an emergency.” Elena is Eve’s best friend and former Ledger companion—retired, snagged her billionaire, and now runs an up-and-coming cheesecakery. I can’t imagine a tasting being an emergency.

I think on it a moment. “So, you didn’t put it into the app yet? That’s it, then.” My voice is hopeful, but I don’t know what this will do to help us. “When did you submit the location to the app?”

“About thirty minutes before you were scheduled to arrive.”

“It has to be someone accessing the app.” Killian’s fingers fly across his phone, sharp and precise, like every keystroke is a weapon. “Sent it to Jaxon. We’ll see if he can work this into his facial scan and find out who accessed the app around that time last night,” he mutters, no-nonsense.

The next knock at my door isn’t one guard but a flood.

Ledger security files in—a dark wave of suits and weapons—and suddenly my penthouse feels less like a home and more like a fortress.

There’s a low hum of conversation that falls nearly silent when I pull the first pan of cookies out of the oven.

Instantly every pair of eyes in the kitchen swivels toward me like bloodthirsty wolves.

I realize too late—I should’ve doubled the batch. Maybe tripled.

They’re gone in seconds—hands darting in, voices gruff but amused, like men at war suddenly reduced to a pack of overgrown kids.

Killian’s voice cuts low from the corner, where he’s talking with Finn at the edge of the kitchen. His jacket finds itself hung on one of the chair backs. I glance up just in time to see him turn, only to find the pans already picked clean.

The drop of his shoulders and the look on his face nearly make me laugh. Adorable, even. Except he’s trying very hard to cover the disappointment—jaw flexing, eyes narrowing—like he’s just been robbed at knifepoint.

He clears his throat. “Jaxon said no major app usage last night, aside from a few clients that don’t match the profile and the janitors changing shifts.”

Finn claps his hands, calling the team to the living room to show off the latest security upgrades. Killian follows, still glaring daggers at one of the guys who has the audacity to be chewing the last cookie.

I can’t help the smirk tugging at my mouth as I reach for the flour again, setting to work on another batch.

“Men,” Eve mutters, swirling her wine and rolling her eyes. “Nothing but big babies.”

The second batch is finished right as the briefing winds down. The men shuffle through the kitchen like a parade of giants, each one snagging a cookie or two in salute before disappearing out the door.

A few linger—Finn among them—and of course he’s the one to swipe the very last cookie from the tray.

Right on time, Killian strides back in. His eyes drop to the island, scanning the tray for what’s left. Crumbs. Chocolate smudges. Nothing more.

His hand twitches near the handle of his knife.

Finn lifts the cookie halfway to his mouth, then freezes. “You really gonna stab me over a cookie, Shaw?”

Killian’s voice is flat, edged with that lethal calm. “I was thinkin’ about it.”

A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. “Thank goodness we don’t need to do that.”

I turn, grab the smaller pan cooling behind me, and slide it across the island right in front of him. “Just for you, big man.”

I pat his solid chest twice, my fingertips tingling even through his shirt. His mouth curves, slow and dangerous, but it’s a smirk all the same as he looks down at his private stash of cookies.

I slip past him, heading down the hall to meet with Eve in my bedroom, and from behind me I hear the low ripple of snickers and a very distinct, very shushed “ooooh.”

Killian’s quiet warning follows, dark and amused. “You can still get stabbed.”

Finn doesn’t miss a beat. “Wish I got my own pan of cookies made special just for me.”

“I’m sure Nora can help you with that.”

Inside my room with Eve, I can’t stop smiling while we hatch a plan to try and catch a stalker.