Page 37 of When Hearts Ignite

Smiling, I lean back, thinking of the fuzzy memories of Uncle Bobby dancing with Mom on the beach while Taylor and I splashed our feet in the waves. Life felt wonderful then. Perfect even.

The other time I flew on a plane is an unpleasant memory, and I shove it away. The old ache resurfaces in my chest…the wistful longing I’ve tried to bury over the years.

“That was a good trip.” I smack my lips and release a stale breath. “But if I get to go anywhere now…perhaps after I get my full-time offer at Pietra, ahem…” I clear my throat sarcastically, only to be met with deep chuckles which cause goosebumps to prickle in the back of my neck, “the first place I want to go to would be Paris.”

“Hm.” He turns on the blinkers as we approach the rundown neighborhood of my apartment, and I brace myself for the look of shock and disgust to appear on his face. “It’s a beautiful place. Definitely worth a visit,” he says as he takes another turn, the car slowing as my apartment lies ahead.

We pass by a group of teenagers smoking weed on the doorsteps, neighborhood kids I’ve watched growing up over the years. I feel the curious stares and whispers as the car stops. Steven tenses, his bearings alert as he walks around to open my door, every inch the well-mannered gentleman in which he was raised.

“I’ll stay here until you go inside.” He stands by the car as I walk up the steps of my apartment, wedging myself between Tony and Jimmy, who let out a loud whistle after I pass by them.

“Landed yourself a rich one, Gracie? Just like your mama?”

I roll my eyes and take out my keys. “Oh shove it, Jimmy, or the next time I bake cookies, you won’t get any. And that’s my boss, you dumbass.”

Sliding my key in the lock, I turn around, finding Steven still standing there like a dark knight, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes sharp and watching every movement from us, as if he’s ready at any second to come to my rescue if anything goes awry. My heart skips another beat and I smile before waving at him.

“Go home, boss. I’m good here.”

He gives me a terse nod and motions me in with his hand, apparently not satisfied until I’m physically inside those double doors.

My chest warms at his protectiveness, and I step inside the building, my eyes adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights of the stairwell, which flickers intermittently. I turn around, seeing him frowning before slowly getting back into his car and driving away.

Later that night, after I washed up and changed into my sleep shirt, I walk to my bedroom window to close the blinds before I go to sleep. Looking up at the brilliant dark skies, the stars still glimmering brightly as they did hours before during my walk on the High Line with a mysterious man who doesn’t speak a lot, but holds so much inside him, I’m comforted I get to shoulder his burdens for a moment…albeit only by walking alongside him under the darkness of the night.

A star streaks across the sky once more, and the pounding renews in my chest. I make the same wish I did standing next to him then.

I wish he would find true happiness and let his soul fly.

“You’re in early today.”

I bite my cheek to suppress a smile wanting to form on my face when I see her hunched over her tablet, the lone lamp illuminating the bullpen as dawn is on the verge of breaking through the inky darkness of the night. I wonder what romance novel she’s reading this morning. My heart is scrimmaging, my hand finding comfort in the hot drink I’m clutching in my grip.

Grace swivels her chair and faces me, her eyes widening in over-the-top shock and her cheeks twitching in suppressed humor as well. “Mr. Kingsley! Fancy seeing you in so early.”

We have done this strange dance every morning the last few weeks without fail, me coming in at six-thirty on the dot, her acting like she hasn’t seen me in the office so early before. Suddenly, waking up in the middle of the night to a dark room doesn’t bother me as much anymore. The stillness doesn’t seem as suffocating, the heaviness in my chest seems more bearable, like I have the strength to push it away and focus on something else.

Or someone else.

When I saw her on the High Line twirling about with a smile on her face, her beautiful hair fluttering around her, my breath caught in my throat and my heart seized. She looked ethereal, something out of the fairytales I read to little Violet whenever I’d visit Jess and James. The moonlight bathed her in a soft glow, imbuing her with…magic.

It’s fucking stupid. Completely unrealistic.

Yet, I find myself ensnared by her aura. When I stepped out of The Shed, I wanted to reply to a few emails regarding TransAmerica that came through during yet another boring speech by some donor of the year. But as soon as I saw her dancing to her own melody with the stars as her company, all my thoughts of work flew out the door. A heady rush of warmth coated my insides and the only thing in my mind was the need to talk to her, to see what had her so mesmerized.

So, for the second time in my life, after the karaoke incident, I shed my heavy cloak of responsibilities, my mind barely registering the buzzing of my phone from more emails and text messages, my brain forgetting the American Lymphoma Research Society gala wasn’t finished yet, and I was supposed to make a speech on Adrian’s behalf. When it finally occurred to me late last night on the drive home, I hastily dictated apology notes to the organizer of the event and to Adrian, who’d no doubt barrage me with questions later.

A sharp pinch of guilt pierced my gut when I realized everything I dropped because of this insane impulse to spend time with her. Father’s warnings in the past echoed in my mind. Kingsley men don’t let emotions get the best out of them. I shoved the thoughts into a black box deep inside me.

I was selfish for once, and I felt alive.

Strolling with her in the darkened pathways, surrounded by carefully manicured gardens and cloaked in silence, I’d never felt more at peace. When she stared at me with those dazzling violet eyes and we talked about the loneliness of being at the top, I didn’t find myself flinching or wanting to run away from her penetrating gaze.

She saw me.

She saw through my words and everything I didn’t say. It wasn’t my wealth or fancy title she noticed, but the deep murky hole inside me, yearning for something to fill it. When she gripped my arm and demanded I make a wish upon a shooting star, the abyss in my chest flooded with bright light, and in that moment, that brief second, I’d remember always, my world shifted on its axis.

I wanted to kiss her.

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