Page 27 of Cage the Storm
NICOLAI
The airin the office feels heavier now that Luna knows about the women. Outside, the world is quiet. Inside, my mind is anything but.
Luna’s questions can unravel carefully built empires, not just mine, but hers as well. I lean back, running a hand through my hair as my gaze lands on the papers scattered across the desk. Contracts, ledgers, lives. They’re all just leverage in this world, whether I like it or not.
She thinks I’m some kind of savior. I see it in her eyes when she looks at me, and maybe I allowed her to believe it, for now. But no one comes out of this business clean. Not me. Not Giovanni. Not even her, if I’m being honest.
The clock on the wall counts down the seconds as if mocking me for the choices I’ve made. Choices I can’t take back. She’s smart, and it’s just a matter of time before everything clicks into place. Luna must be upstairs piecing everything together. God help us all when that happens.
This house is full of ghosts, but none haunt me quite like the living. Especially her. The one upstairs, no doubt slipping into something seductive for dinner. The thought has me moving right after I slam my glass on the bar top.
The staircase creaks as I ascend, each step heavier than the last. When I reach the second floor, the scent of something floral wafts through the air, mingling with the faint fragrance of her perfume. It’s familiar, that scent—a kind of tether I didn’t ask for but can’t ignore.
Our door is ajar, and there’s a sliver of warm light spilling into the hallway. I pause momentarily, my hand resting on the doorframe, listening to the faint shuffle of movement inside. “Dinner’s nearly ready,” I say, stepping into the room.
She turns to face me, and the world seems to tilt. It’s not just her beauty; it’s the way she carries herself with such grace and dignity. I’m mesmerized as her dress catches the soft light spilling through the window. And the way the fabric skims her petite frame. It’s unassuming yet unforgettable. But her eyes hit me the hardest. Soft, searching, and full of questions I don’t have the courage to answer.
I’ve never been one to let down my guard, not in this house, not in this world. And yet, she’s here, pulling me apart without even meaning to. There’s something about her—something that isn’t just presence, but purpose. I don’t know what shakes me more: her beauty or the feeling she sparks inside of me, something I can’t quite put into words.
I clear my throat, trying and failing to collect myself. “You look…”
My words hang in the air. Compliments usually come easily. In my world, charm is just another skill, another way to get what I need. But this feels different. Luna isn’t someone I can brush aside or manipulate. And for the first time, I don’t have the right words.
She tilts her head slightly. It’s subtle, but it unsettles me even more. I push through it, closing the space between us. If she notices my hesitation, she doesn’t say anything.
Luna has a quiet strength that seems to radiate from her even when she’s standing still. I’m drawn to her in a way that defies logic, as though some unseen force is pulling me toward her. My pulse quickens, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
I reach her and lift a hand, pausing for just a moment before my fingers brush her cheek. Her skin’s soft, and the second I touch her, something ignites. A spark. A jolt I didn’t expect. But she doesn’t pull away. And that look completely unravels me.
I lean in until there’s nothing left but the sound of our breaths mingling. My lips hover just above hers, and for a moment, I pause, caught in the quiet crash of everything I’ve been trying not to feel. I’ve kissed her before. Countless times. But this time, it has nothing to do with lust or satisfying the ache. It’s respect. Devotion. The moment my feelings stop hiding and start demanding to be felt. And when I finally close the distance, the kiss isn’t new; it’s inevitable. Like something I’ve always known but never let myself believe.
Her lips are soft, and the rest of the world disappears for a moment. It’s just Luna and me, the space between us erased as if it never existed. At first, the kiss is careful, tentative. I’m afraid she’ll pull away after our confrontation. But then, her breath catches, and she leans in, her fingers brushing against my chest. It’s the lightest touch, but it sends a rush through me, something raw and intoxicating.
As I try to breathe, I lean my forehead against hers. When her eyes open, it’s like she sees right through me, past every wall I’ve ever built. It’s unsettling. Intense. I don’t know how to deal with it.
“I shouldn’t have,” I begin to speak, but I falter as her fingertips graze my jaw. And just like that, every excuse I was going to use disappears.
“Then why did you?” she whispers. Why did I? Because I couldn’t stop myself. Because she’s the only thing in this house that feels real.
“I don’t know,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. Honesty isn’t something I offer often; it’s dangerous.
Her eyes search mine, and I wonder what she’s looking for. Answers, maybe. Reassurance. Or perhaps something I can’t give her. But whatever it is, I can’t look away. Her gaze holds me captive, and I realize with startling clarity that she’s become my undoing. I fell in love with the one woman who was born to betray me.
I take a step back, creating space before the moment can pull me under. I refuse to lose control. “Dinner’s getting cold.” I turn toward the door, needing the distance. But even as I go, the memory of her touch stays with me, impossible to ignore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LUNA
I hearhis footsteps pause just outside the door. I stay where I am for a moment, my heart racing from his kiss. It was sudden and so out of character for him. He’s never been known to show affection, but perhaps it was his way of thanking me for caring for Amara.
Taking a deep breath, I move toward the door. When I step into the hallway, he’s there, his back to me, one hand braced against the wall. His shoulders are tense, and for a man who carries the world on his shoulders, he looks vulnerable.
“Nicolai,” He turns just enough for me to catch his profile, and something in his expression makes my chest tighten. There’s a heaviness in his eyes I can’t name, but it’s there. I wonder if something happened that he’s not willing to tell me.
Without thinking, I close the distance between us, sliding my arm through his. His body tenses at first, but then I feel him relax. He doesn’t look at me, but his hand finds mine. A lifeline, disguised as a touch.
“Let’s go to dinner,” I say. I don’t know if he notices the tremor beneath my calm, but he doesn’t let go. We move together down the hallway, our steps falling into rhythm likewe’ve done this a hundred times before. The soft clatter of dishes is the only sign of life beyond the two of us.
