Brynne

This is a bad idea.

Those words roll through my head as I ride the elevator up to Kane’s penthouse.

The last time I’d come here, I’d been drunk on cheap wine, and allowed my body to rule my actions. Now I’m going back, and all I can think about is his offer. Move in with me.

“Bad idea,” I mutter, glancing down at Noah, who’s fast asleep in the stroller.

I want to hold on to the hate that used to protect my heart, but when I look at Noah, it’s hard to remember anything but that night. Not just his touch, but the way his eyes seared my soul. The way he made me feel like he was a part of me. That he was my future, and not a demon from my past.

I hated him.

I loved him.

Stupid emotions that warred constantly against each other.

My stomach twists and my palms sweat as I get off the elevator and stand in front of his door.

It’s not just me I have to think about anymore.

Kane was right. Noah deserves a father. And if he’s really serious about being part of Noah’s life, then I have to give him the opportunity. One chance. I’ll give him that.

I knock.

“It’s unlocked,” comes the deep, muffled reply.

I open the door, wheeling the stroller into the large foyer that currently looks like Babies-R-Us exploded in it. Opened and unopened boxes are piled halfway to the ceiling.

“Kane?”

“In here,” he calls out.

I follow his voice to the living room, where he’s kneeling, shirtless over a series of large plastic pieces that I’m assuming will be a toddler-sized playset, with a mini-slide and climbing wall built in.

“What is all this?”

He gives me a crooked smile that cuts deep dimples into one cheek. And there go the butterflies again.

“I wanted to be prepared for when you-” He rubs the back of his neck. “When he sleeps here. So, I went online and purchased a few things.”

I glance at the boxes scattered everywhere. “Did you order the whole catalogue?”

He grins and puts down the screwdriver in his hand, then stands and walks towards me. My heart flutters as he approaches, but like he promised, he doesn’t touch me. Instead, he bends down over the stroller to look at Noah.

“He just fell asleep. Don’t wake him unless you want to be the one getting up with him in the middle of the night.”

“Already told you I did.” He straightens, then shoves his hands in his pockets. “He’s still not sleeping through the night?”

He says it like he actually knows something about babies, which irritates me.

“Most nights he’ll sleep eight hours. But if he doesn’t have his full afternoon nap, then he’ll fall asleep again after dinner, which means-”

“He’ll wake up in the middle of the night. Got it.” He winks.

I roll my eyes at him, then nod at the plastic playset he’d been working on. “You do know that it’ll be at least a couple of years before he can use most of this stuff? And where are you going to put it? You don’t have a yard.”

“I’ve got someone coming to pick up the pool table tomorrow. I’m going to turn the game room into a playroom.”

“You love that pool table.”

He shrugs, making the muscles in his chest and shoulders bunch. “Kid’s got to have a place to play.”

I frown. “You don’t have to do all this.”

He holds my gaze, and I swear I can see the wheels spinning behind his eyes.

“What?” I ask, hoping there aren’t any more surprises lurking around the corner.

“Is he okay there for a second?”

I glance down at Noah, and nod.

“Good. I want to show you something.”

Stomach flip flopping, I follow him down the hall, wishing he’d put a damn shirt on.

“If you’re taking me to your bedroom, I told you, it’s totally not happening.”

He stops, giving me a mischievous grin that says he doesn’t believe me for one second, but when he opens the door we’re standing in front of, my mouth drops open.

The entire room has been converted into a nursery. Crib. Change table. Stuffed animals. Even a damn diaper genie.

“The walls still need to be painted. Haven’t really used this room, so it’s pretty bare.”

“It’s perfect.” Uneasiness settles in my chest, and I don’t know why. Maybe because I know I’ll never be able to give all these things to Noah.

“There’s more. Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me to the next room. “I had it made up for a guest room, but I don’t have a lot of guests. It’s yours.”

I don’t go into the room. Can’t. I can barely breath as I take in the sleek furniture that’s been decorated with silvers and purples. My favorite colors. Everything about it is – me.

Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to describe the way I feel. It’s too much. Too quick.

“Kane-”

“Before you say no, take a look at this.” Again, he takes my hand and drags me to another room, this one with floor-to-ceiling windows with a view overlooking the city.

Weights and workout machines line the walls.

“A workout room. Now that is a bonus,” I say sarcastically, since he knows full well I’ve never exercised a day in my life.

He chuckles. “It’s your studio.”

I try to keep my expression neutral, but it’s hard to hide the way my heart beats a million miles a minute. I didn’t expect this. Any of it.

“My studio?” My voice cracks on the words.

“I’ll have my people put this stuff in storage, and you can move your supplies in.” He leans against the doorframe, watching me. “What do you think?”

What do I think? That everything is moving at warp speed.

“I don’t know. It’s…a lot.”

He leans closer, and I can smell his aftershave, the tang of mint on his breath. His eyes, clear and blue, stare down at me with an intensity that goes straight to my core.

Bad idea.

“We can make this work, Brynne. Move in with me.”

I hold his gaze, while he waits for an answer.

Noah’s cry saves me.

“I’ll get him.” Kane reaches out and brushes his thumb along my jaw, already breaking his own rule. But I can’t help but lean into his touch, to crave more.

Yeah, really bad idea.

“Stay here and think about it.” He disappears down the hall, towards the now desperate squawking.

A few seconds later, Noah’s stops crying.

I glance around the large room with its hardwood floors and bare walls. Even when I lived with my dad, despite the enormous house and multiple rooms, I never had anything like this. Nowhere other than my bedroom to work on my paintings and sculptures.

My father did everything he could to crush my love of art. I didn’t understand it then, and I still don’t now. When I’d asked to sign up for art classes, he’d put me in hockey, then soccer. And when it was clear I wasn’t a team-sport person, he registered me for gymnastics, then ballet, and finally karate.

I did them all. Never complaining, but never really enjoying them. My fingers itched to create, to draw and paint.

“You need to keep your body active,” my father would say whenever I’d grumble about going to whatever activity he was dragging me to. “All that artsy stuff just makes your mind weak. Are you weak, Brynne?”

That was one of his favorite questions to ask Sam and I.

“No, Daddy.” I shoved back the tears, never understanding why he wouldn’t look at my drawings, or why he got mad whenever he caught me doodling in my books.

I learned to hide my drawings from him. Even when the teachers at my school commented on my work, suggesting that I had real talent, I didn’t tell him, afraid of his anger, his disappointment.

And then I found the room. I was eleven. One of the housecleaners must have forgotten to lock it, because I’d never seen the door open before.

It was small, but it had large windows on two sides that were covered by thick, dark drapes. Different sized canvases perched against the wall, some finished, some half started. But it was the easel in the center, with its large blank canvas that drew me. An old palette with crusted paint sat on a table beside it, along with an assortment of different sized brushes. Tubes of half used oils beckoned me, tempting me with their bright colored labels.

Maybe I should have known better. But some part of me wanted to believe that the room was a gift from my father. The paints. The brushes. Secret treasures that he wanted me to find.

The first stroke of color on the canvas and my heart leapt in joy.

I’d make him a beautiful painting, something he would be proud of.

I’m not sure how long I’d stayed there. Probably hours, because by the time my father found me, he was frantic.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” his voice bellowed.

I jumped, smudging an ugly red line across the field of roses I’d created.

“I-I was painting.”

He barreled across the room, large and intimidating, and grabbed the paintbrush out of my hand, tossing it across the room. “Who said you could come in here?”

“I…the door…it was open…I thought…”

His eyes filled with more anger when he glanced at the painting I’d done. “Go to your room. Now.”

“Daddy, please, I-”

His large hand wrapped around my arm, pulling me roughly from the stool I’d been sitting in.

I cried out at the pain, but he only tightened his grip, his eyes dark and scary.

It’s the first time I’d seen that look directed at me and not Sam.

“Go. To. Your. Room.” His fingers tightened, pinching my skin, before he finally released me.

Tears blurred my vision as I’d scurried to my room.

Hours went by.

I wasn’t called to supper.

When the moon was high in the sky, and the lights under my door went dark, I knew he wasn’t coming. There was no explanation. No apology. No comfort. Just silence.

Two days later, I walked by the room again. But this time, the door was wide open and it was empty.

No paints.

No canvases.

No easel.

Just a bare room.

He’d thrown everything away. Even the painting I’d poured my heart into. That hurt more than the bruises that still shadowed my arm.

“You okay?” Kane is standing in the doorway with Noah over his shoulder, blue eyes drawn and filled with concern. “I was talking to you. Didn’t seem like you heard me.”

“I was just thinking.”

“About how much you want to move in here?” His lips twist up on one side.

I can’t help but smile at his persistence.

It would be nice to have my own space to paint.

Not a reason to sell your soul to the devil, Brynne.

A devil with piercing blue eyes, lips I want to devour, and abs that beg to be licked.

I sigh. “If we do this-”

His smile stretches across his face, eyes glittering, and I know he thinks he’s won.

Damn him. Maybe he has.

“If we do this,” I say sternly, ignoring the way heat builds in my core when he takes a step closer.

You’d think the fact that he’s holding Noah would squash all temptation, but seeing the two of them together only intensifies the desire that simmers inside of me.

He draws closer, and I lose whatever I was going to say.

“If we do this,” he repeats with a smug smirk.

“No touching.”

“Unless you beg.” He winks.

I roll my eyes. “I mean it.”

“So do I.”

We hold each other’s gaze, and I know it’s a battle of wills. Who will look away first? Who will cave? But I can’t let him win this. I need him to know I’m serious.

“All right.” He doesn’t look away, but I can tell he’s backing down. At least for now. “No touching. Any other rules?”

“No random girls coming into the apartment. No parties. And no drugs.”

His eyes twitch and his mouth thins. “Not a problem,” he says tightly.

“Good. Then we might be able to make this work.”

He gives a tight nod, but something has changed in his mood. “I’ll have your stuff brought over tonight.”

“Tonight? You’re not going to be able to get movers on that short of notice.”

A touch of a smirk plays on his lips. “Already hired them.”

He turns and walks out of the room, murmuring something to Noah.

I follow after him. “And what if I’d said no?”

“You wouldn’t have.” He chuckles.

I’m about to argue with him, take back our deal, when I hear Noah’s own giggle as he reaches out and grabs at Kane’s mouth.

Kane turns, his eyes wide. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” I heard it. But I’m not sure what made my heart melt more, my son’s laugh, or the way his father is looking at him like he’s the best thing in the world.

Maybe this won’t be the worst decision I’ve ever made.

Or maybe I’m walking into a trap where I’ll be lucky to get out with a shred of my heart left.

Either way, I know my decision was made way before I even walked in the door.