Chapter 13 - The Awakening in Silk
The master bedroom on the sixty-fifth floor was completely silent, illuminated only by the soft, golden glow of the gas fireplace.
Khloe opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the warmth of the room.
She was lying beneath a heavy duvet of pure white Egyptian cotton, the sheets smelling faintly of cedarwood and Roman's skin.
She shifted slightly, realizing she was no longer wearing the soaked trousers and heavy wool trench coat from the docks.
Someone had dressed her in a loose, cream-colored silk pajama set that felt weightless against her skin.
She turned her head on the feather pillow.
Roman was sitting in the massive leather armchair by the fireplace, wearing a pair of dark gray slacks and a half-unbuttoned black shirt.
His long legs were stretched out toward the hearth, an open book resting face-down on his knee, his eyes fixed on her face.
He had clearly been watching her sleep for hours.
"What time is it?" Khloe asked, her voice thick and raspy from exhaustion.
"Three in the afternoon," Roman answered softly, setting the book aside and rising to his feet with fluid, effortless grace.
"You've been asleep for nearly sixteen hours."
Khloe pushed herself up against the headboard, running a hand through her tangled hair.
"My mother..."
"Is in recovery," Roman said, walking over to the side of the bed and sitting down on the edge of the mattress.
"The transplant surgery began at eight this morning."
"The surgical team at Columbia Presbyterian secured a viable kidney from a donor match in Philadelphia through the expedited private registry."
"The chief surgeon called me ninety minutes ago."
"The organ was accepted without hyperacute rejection."
"She is off the ventilator, her vital signs are completely stable, and the doctors expect her to make a full, uncomplicated recovery."
Khloe sat frozen, the words washing over her like a warm, miraculous tide.
"She has a new kidney?" Khloe whispered, her lips parting in pure, stunned disbelief.
"She will never have to sit in a dialysis clinic again, Khloe," Roman said, reaching out and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Her rehabilitation is fully funded."
"I purchased a private estate in Upstate New York—four acres of rolling gardens, a heated indoor pool, and a twenty-four-hour residential nursing staff."
"The title is registered entirely in her maiden name."
"She will spend the rest of her life painting in the sun, without a single fear of the Morettis, the loan sharks, or the hospital bills."
Tears spilled over Khloe's lashes, warm and silent, tracing down her cheeks.
She looked at this terrifying, brutal man who had murdered his way to the top of the underworld, yet had handled her fragile, broken life with such meticulous, breathtaking care.
"Why, Roman?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"You have the deeds."
"You have the shipping terminals."
"You have the prosecutors in your pocket."
"You got everything you ever wanted from my father's ledger."
"Why do all this for my mother?"
"Why do all this for me?"
Roman’s hand slid from her hair down to the curve of her jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the wet track of her tears.
His gray eyes, usually as cold and unforgiving as winter ice, softened into an intense, burning devotion that made her breath hitch in her throat.
"Because the ledger was just business, Khloe," he murmured, his face leaning closer until his lips hovered barely an inch from hers.
"The terminals, the money, the power—I could have taken those eventually with enough blood and patience."
"None of that matters compared to the woman who stood in front of Marco Moretti's gun to protect me."
"None of that matters compared to the woman who walked into that gala and brought me to my knees."
"I spent two years looking past you because I was blind."
"Now that I see you, Khloe, I am never letting you walk away."
Khloe looked into his eyes, feeling the rapid, powerful thump of her own heart against her ribs.
She remembered the fear she had felt when she first stepped into his office two years ago.
She remembered the way she had shrunk behind her desk, terrified that this merciless predator would notice her and tear her life apart.
He had torn her life apart.
He had shattered her disguise, dragged her into the center of a criminal war, and forced her to confront the demons of her past.
And in doing so, he had built her an empire from the ashes.
"I won't be a bird in a golden cage, Roman," she whispered, her amber eyes flashing with that fierce, unyielding pride that had captivated him from the moment she took off her glasses.
"I won't sit in this penthouse wearing silk dresses, waiting for you to come home from meetings with blood on your hands."
Roman let out a low, dark chuckle, his fingers tracing down the line of her throat to rest against the warm hollow of her collarbone.
"I don't want a bird, Khloe," he growled softly, his voice vibrating with absolute conviction.
"I want a queen."
"The Caster Group needs a Chief Financial Officer who knows where every dollar, every container, and every bribe is buried."
"The office next to mine is being remodeled this morning."
May you like
"The mahogany desk is identical to mine."
"And your name will be on the executive directory by Monday morning."
