Chapter 6 6

The car glided down the highway, the city lights streaking past like blurred stars. Inside, soft jazz played from the speakers-a slow, mournful saxophone that matched the exhaustion seeping into Kiley's bones.

She turned her head on the headrest to look at Carmine. His profile was sharp against the passing streetlights.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For Grandma. For everything today."

Carmine kept his eyes on the road, his hands relaxed on the leather steering wheel. "She's your family. That means she's mine now."

The words were possessive, absolute. Kiley felt a shiver that wasn't from the AC.

"The medical team..." she started, chewing on her lip. "And the private transport. How much was it? I can set up a payment plan. I can pay you back in installments."

Carmine's jaw tightened. A muscle feathered in his cheek. He hated this. He hated that she constantly tried to monetize his care, to turn their relationship into a ledger.

"No," he said, his voice clipped. "I have a friend on the board at Saint Jude's. It's... an employee discount."

Kiley's eyes widened. "An employee discount covers a private medical team?"

"He's a very good friend," Carmine lied smoothly. "And favors in the corporate world are worth more than cash. Don't worry about the bill."

Kiley watched him for a moment longer. It sounded too good to be true, but in her exhausted mind, it was the only explanation that made sense. Carmine was a man who knew people. He was a fixer. That didn't mean he was rich; it meant he was resourceful.

She leaned her head back against the seat. The hum of the engine was a lullaby. Her eyelids grew heavy.

Within minutes, her head lolled to the side, resting against the window, then slipping down toward the center console. Finally, it landed on Carmine's shoulder.

Carmine stiffened. He felt the weight of her head, the soft brush of her hair against his neck.

He exhaled slowly. He reached out and adjusted the climate control, turning the heat up two degrees. He eased his foot off the gas, letting the car slow down, prolonging the drive.

At a red light, he turned to look at her. Her lips were parted slightly, her breathing even. She looked young. Vulnerable.

He reached out, his finger hovering for a second before gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear. His skin grazed her cheek. She was warm.

His phone lit up in the cup holder. A message from Alfred.

Sir, the Estate is calling. They want to know if you are attending the board dinner.

Carmine picked up the phone. He typed with one thumb.

No. Do not disturb me.

The light turned green. He put the phone down and accelerated gently, careful not to wake her.

Kiley murmured something in her sleep. "Grandma..."

Carmine's chest tightened. He would burn the world down to keep that look of relief on her face he saw earlier today.

They pulled into the underground garage of a building downtown. It wasn't just any building; it was the Wilkinson Tower, the tallest residential spire in the city.

He parked in the private bay. Kiley didn't stir.

Carmine turned off the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt, then hers. She slumped forward slightly, catching herself on the belt strap.

He got out, walked around, and opened her door.

He slid his arms under her-one under her knees, one behind her back. He lifted her effortlessly.

Kiley shifted, burying her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent of sandalwood and rain. She let out a contented sigh.

Carmine walked toward the private elevator. The doors slid open silently.

He pressed the button marked PH.

The polished metal doors reflected them. A man in a suit holding a sleeping woman in a white dress. It looked like the end of a movie. Or the beginning.

The elevator rose, ears popping as they ascended fifty floors.

The doors opened directly into the penthouse foyer.

Alfred, his butler, was standing there, hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing his impeccable uniform.

"Good evening, Mast-"

Carmine's eyes flashed. He cut Alfred a look so sharp it could have sliced glass. He shook his head slightly, a silent command to shut up.

Alfred paused, confused for a microsecond, then saw Kiley sleeping in his arms. He bowed his head deeply.

Carmine didn't stop. He carried Kiley past the foyer, down the long hallway lined with art that cost more than her father's house, and kicked open the door to the master bedroom.