Chapter 9 - The Midnight Confession
The night was quiet, save for the low, rhythmic hum of the air conditioning and the soft breathing of Willa sleeping in her bassinet across the room.
Vincent and Sloan lay side-by-side in the massive king-sized bed—the exact same bed where he had found her sleeping six months ago.
The space between them no longer felt like a chasm.
Vincent rolled onto his side, propping his head on one hand, looking down at Sloan in the dim amber light of the bedside lamp.
“Do you remember what you said to me the night I found you here?” Vincent asked softly.
Sloan turned her head on the pillow, looking up at him. “Which part? The part where I told you to get out, or the part where I told you I survived without you?”
“The part where you said money doesn't hold a newborn at three in the morning.” Vincent reached out, his thumb gently tracing the line of her cheekbone. “I’ve spent my entire life believing that if I had enough money, enough power, enough control, I could prevent bad things from happening. I could insulate myself from pain.”
Sloan leaned into his touch, her eyes softening. “And did you learn?”
“I learned that the only thing money buys is a very expensive cage,” Vincent whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “The only thing that ever mattered was right here in this room.”
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He leaned down, pressing his lips gently against hers. It wasn't a corporate transaction or a calculated gesture; it was a surrender.
Sloan kissed him back, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them.
