Page 37 of Anchor
She pressed her palms flat together, whispering to herself so quietly, the men across from her couldn’t hear.Please, just come back out to me.
The clock ticked loud enough to cut into Claire’s thoughts, each second a reminder that Reid was still behind those closeddoors. Tuck hadn’t moved, Pete hadn’t spoken in minutes, and she sat suspended between them. Then the door opened.
Reid stepped out, shoulders tight, jaw set, but his eyes immediately found her. Whatever burden he’d been carrying in that room, he carried it out, his posture still, his face a mask. But his eyes softened when they met hers, and the air seemed to leave his lungs, replaced by a fragile breath that made her heart stutter.
Claire rose before she knew she was moving, her body reacting faster than her mind. He crossed the space in three long strides, and the moment he reached her, the walls she’d built around herself cracked. He didn’t touch her—not here, not in front of Tuck and Pete—but the nearness alone steadied her pulse, grounding her in a way she didn’t expect.
“You’re alright,” she whispered, though the words felt hollow, a reassurance she wasn’t sure she believed.
His mouth curved slightly, faint but genuine. “I told you I don’t break.”
She swallowed hard, her chest tight, as if his words had shifted the world in her direction. It wasn’t just Reid carrying this anymore. She could feel it, him pulling her into it, and the burden was heavier than she’d imagined.
She searched his face, trying to see past the calm, the stoic lines. His eyes were hard, yes, but there was something else there too—a deep, unspoken resolve. He wasn’t just carrying the mission anymore but also her fears, even when she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
“They’re putting a lot on you.” Her words came out more strained than she intended.
“Nothing changed,” he answered quietly. “Tonight just made it official.”
Now she was afraid she might be the one who’d break first.
Behind them, Tuck stood, his voice steady, offering a quiet but necessary grounding. “Claire, it’s one day at a time.”
Pete’s voice cut through the tension, simple but direct. “Stay close.”
She nodded, forcing herself to breathe, but it felt like she was holding on by a thread.
Reid leaned in, his presence a quiet promise, his voice a soft whisper meant only for her. “We’ll talk. But I want you to know… I’m still yours in this.”
Her throat tightened, but she nodded, her heart thundering in her chest. “Then I’m not afraid.”
THIRTEEN
The walk back was quiet, the two of them moving side by side beneath the lamplight. The night, the boardroom, the vote, Ian’s scrutiny still clung to their shoulders, but the silence wasn’t empty. It was charged, tethered, like something stretched taut between them that hadn’t broken yet.
When they reached Reid’s building, the glass doors reflected them, her in her dress and his tuxedo jacket, her hair tied loosely; him in his suit jacket, tie gone but shirt still crisp and composed. Reid held the door for her, and together they stepped into the hush of the lobby.
The security desk sat squared off to the elevators. The guard looked up, professional but not intrusive. Reid gave his name and Claire’s, waiting while she slid her ID across the counter. The guard checked it, logged it, and slid it back with a nod. “Good evening, Mr. Hanlon. Ms. Bowman.”
Claire tucked the ID into her bag, not bothering to correct his Ms. to Dr. No one cared whether she was at her apartment. Reid’s hand brushed her back lightly as they moved toward the elevators. Not possessive but grounding. Reid swiped his access card and pressed nine. The cab began its climb, the numbers ticking upward in a steady rhythm.
Claire leaned back against the wall, studying him from the corner of her eye. He still carried himself like the meeting wasn’t entirely behind him, like he was holding too much inside. “You don’t let it show.”
Reid’s gaze shifted to her, unreadable for a moment, then softening. “Doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”
The elevator dinged, breaking the spell. The doors slid open to the ninth floor. All was quiet, just three other apartments along the hall. He walked her down to his door, keyed in his code, and pushed it open.
Inside, the apartment waited. The faintest smile tugged at Claire’s mouth. “Not so bare-bones anymore.”
When the door locked, the air shifted. Claire barely had time to smirk before he had her off the ground, her weight in his arms like she’d always belonged there.
“Reid…” she started, half laughing, but the sound dissolved when his mouth brushed her ear, his voice dark, velvet edged in steel. “No more bare-bones.”
Her fingers clenched his shoulders. The rest of her body went pliant, surrender without hesitation.
He carried her into the bedroom, setting her down only long enough to press her into the mattress, still wrapped in his tux jacket. The sight of it—his jacket swallowing her, her bare legs curled under, her hair spilling wild—ignited something sharp and primal in him.
He braced his hands at her ribs, caging her in. “Mine,” he said against her mouth before kissing her, teeth catching her lower lip, tongue taking what he wanted.
