Chapter 10 - The Last Dance at Westbridge ManorMidnight.
The blizzard outside Westbridge Manor had finally cleared, leaving the Berkshire hills buried beneath a blanket of pristine, untouched snow that glowed silver under the full moon.
Inside the grand library, a roaring fire crackled in the limestone hearth. The heavy iron chest stood open in the corner, its stolen diamonds safely secured in the wall vault, hidden away from the world forever.
There were no federal agents. There was no board of directors. There were no enemies left to fight.
Just the two of them.
Sebastian stood by the French doors, holding a crystal glass of bourbon. He wore an unbuttoned white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the dark scars along his forearms.
From the record player in the corner, a slow, smoky jazz tune drifted through the cavernous room.
Chloe walked in from the hallway. She had traded her structured pantsuit for a sweeping, midnight-blue silk gown that clung to her curves like liquid moonlight. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her bare shoulders, and the obsidian necklace around her throat caught the firelight.
Sebastian turned around. His breath caught in his throat.
He didn't say a word. He simply set his glass down on the windowsill, crossed the floor in three long strides, and stopped inches away from her.
“You realize,” Sebastian whispered, his voice rough and thick with emotion, “you’ve completely destabilized the East Coast underworld, ruined a federal agent’s career, and overthrown a syndicate board in less than a month.”
“I’m an overachiever,” Chloe replied softly, a playful smile touching her lips as she looked up into his dark eyes.
Sebastian’s hands came up, resting softly on her hips, pulling her flush against his chest. The contrast between his broad, scarred frame and her soft, voluptuous curves was absolute perfection.
“I promised you on the very first night,” Sebastian murmured, leaning down until his lips hovered a millimeter from hers, “that one day, you would crave only me.”
Chloe raised her arms, looping them around his neck, her fingers tangling in the silver-streaked hair at his nape.
“You talk too much, Mr. Rourke,” she whispered.
May you like
Then she pulled him down, sealing her lips against his in a slow, deep, consuming kiss that tasted of victory, surrender, and a love forged in the darkest shadows of Boston.
Outside, the snow fell silently over the iron gates, sealing them inside their fortress, forever untouchable.
