Page 61 of The Malibu Destiny

I practically bounce on my toes. "Thank you!" My arms twitch with the urge to hug him, but I keep them at my sides. People at the farmers market always joke that I'd hug a cactus if it looked lonely enough, but I won’t hug him, even though I’m dying to.

My stomach knots as I follow him. Max couldn't even get Roman to see him—his own brother. What chance do I have? Some hippie girl from Venice Beach who drove forty minutes up the coast on nothing but a hope and a prayer. But I had to try.

To my relief, he comes right back. "Mr. Kensington will be down shortly.”

The urge to embrace him overwhelms me again, and before I can stop myself, my arms are around his broad shoulders, my eyes stinging with the threat of tears. "Thank you," I whisper.

His smile tightens at the edges as he stands there, wooden and uncertain. I've made him uncomfortable. I should probably regret my impulsiveness, but I can't bring myself to. In my world, unexpected hugs are like those little kindnesses strangers sometimes offer—small but necessary gifts. Everyone craves that connection, that momentary shelter of another person's arms. At least, I think they do.

It seems like forever, but Roman soon appears in the lobby. He nods at the doorman. “Thanks, Henry,” he says. “I’ll take it from here.”

We rocket upward in the elevator to the twelfth floor. The doors slide open directly into his penthouse, and I gasp. Moonlight pours through floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing a view that steals my breath. The Los Angeles skyline stretches before me, countless lights twinkling against the night. Marble floors lead past a floating staircase to multiple living areas I can barely take in at once. Through another glass wall, I glimpse a rooftop garden and infinity pool that seems to spill right into the city below.

From here, you can see everything—downtown's skyscrapers to the east, the Hollywood Hills dotted with homes to the north, and to the west, past the grid of streets, the dark expanse of the Pacific, where distant ships' lights blink like stars fallen to earth.

I stand frozen in the doorway, my lips forming a stunned "Oh my god." The glossy pages of Architectural Digest hadn't prepared me for this reality—twenty-foot ceilings with exposed beams, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Pacific, furniture that probably costs more than my entire shop inventory. This isn't just wealth; this is obscene, beautiful wealth. I run my fingertips along a marble countertop that stretches longer than my apartment.

Is this really the home of the man whose beautiful body I've memorized these past weeks? The man who texts me at 2 AM not for booty calls but because he's thinking about something I said? Whatever we are—lovers, dating, something undefined—I know one thing: my heart has already claimed him, and I'm not backing down now, no matter how intimidating his world might be.

His lips twist into something that might be a smile but never touches his eyes. "I wanted you to come over," he says, voice dropping to a growl. "But I've dreaded you coming over, too." He slams his fist against the doorframe, making the hinges rattle. "I knew you would come over, though, after my stupid text." His knuckles whiten as he clenches his fist so hard it trembles. "I wanted to rip that phone apart the second I sent it."

“I know,” I say. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumps beneath his skin. "Lilith, this is tearing me apart." His voice breaks. "You're this—Christ—this radiant fucking miracle. Pure sunshine burning through everything. And I'm what? A black hole. A goddamn supernova of rage that's been collapsing in on itself for twenty-two years."

His fist pounds against his chest. "I can already see it happening—you trying to save me, letting my poison seep into your veins because that's who you are. You'd set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm." He grabs my shoulders, fingers digging in. "I can’t watch you dim yourself for me." His breath comes ragged now. "Because I love you." The words rip from him like a confession. "There. I said it. I fucking love you. I’m fucking in love with you.” He runs his hands through his dark hair and starts pacing the floor. “I’m drowning in you. I wake up choking on how much I need you. And that's exactly why—" his voice cracks open, "—why I have to walk away before I destroy the only thing that's ever mattered."

My heart doesn't just leap—it explodes into a thousand sparks when he confesses he loves me. Because I don't just love him too—I crave him, need him, worship him with a desperation that terrifies me. God, I would tear open my chest and offer him my still-beating heart if he asked for it.

The words burst from me like they've been trapped for years. "Oh, Roman, I love you too!" My voice breaks, my whole body trembling. "I can't believe you feel the same way. I thought..." The confession dies on my lips. How could I tell him I'd been terrified this was just another conquest for him? That every night I'd lain awake wondering if I was just a warm body while my heart was being ripped apart by wanting him so completely? My eyes burn with tears as I grab his shirt. "I've been drowning, Roman. Drowning in you. And now—" My voice catches. "Now I'm not alone anymore."

He shakes his head violently. "No. Don't you fucking see? Because I love you so goddamn much it's tearing me apart inside, I have to let you go. It's survival for you, Lilith." His voice breaks. "You'll drown in my darkness. You'll suffocate under the weight of my demons. I can't—" He slams his fist against the wall. "I can't destroy the only pure thing in my life. Your light. Your heart." His eyes burn into mine. "If I didn't love you, I'd take you right here against this wall until neither of us could stand. Because Christ, Lilith, looking at you right now is like dying of thirst in front of an ocean I can't drink. But I won't be that selfish monster. Not with you."

I grab his face between my hands, forcing him to look at me. "Roman, stop. Just stop." My voice cracks. I grab his wrist, my nails digging into his skin. "Yes, you're damaged. God, we both know that." My voice drops to a whisper, eyes blazing into his. "But you're like lightning striking sand—violent, scorching everything it touches, yet creating something so exquisite it takes my breath away every time I look at you." My fingers dig into his skin as tears burn in my eyes. "Your father abandoned you, your mother died, and you've been carrying that rage like it's the only thing keeping you alive. But he's back now, don't you see?" I'm almost shouting, desperate for him to understand. "He's back, and you're talking to him, and it's only a matter of time before⁠—"

His eyes flash like a predator's. "Don't. Finish. That. Fucking. Sentence. Lilith," he snarls, each word a bullet. "There is no 'matter of time' before I reconnect with that bastard. I saw him today for one reason—I refuse to watch him crash and burn."

When he catches my hopeful expression, something raw twists across his face. He slams his palm forward. "You don't get it. I need him successful because my brothers are my goddamn heartbeat. If he fails, he'll crawl back into a bottle because he's pathetic. Then he'll drag himself to Uncle Thomas, bleeding shame, and destroy every one of my brothers' souls. And what's left of mine will be obliterated." His voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "So yes, I need him sober. Clean. Functional. But for them—never him. For Cam, Silas, Asher, Kalen, Connor, Ansel and Max. Especially Max." His fist clenches white-knuckled. "That kid would shatter into dust. He's carried the blame like a fucking cross his entire life."

I nod. “Can I read some cards about this situation?”

He jerks his head violently, veins bulging at his temples. "No. Fuck the cards, Lilith. This isn't about tarot—it's about you accepting that my father destroyed something in me that can never be fixed. Never." His jaw clenches so tight that I can hear his teeth grinding. "You deserve the goddamn world, Lilith. Every. Fucking. Thing. A man who falls to his knees for you. Who trusts you completely." His voice breaks. "And the second part’s not me. I don't lie—I can't trust you because I can't trust anyone." He slams his fist against the wall, leaving a dent. "But as for the first part…” He shakes his head. “Christ, I worship you. Take a bullet for you. Burn alive for you. I’d let the flames consume me until there’s nothing left but ash."

My throat constricts like someone's tightening a noose around it, but I force the words out anyway, my voice raw. "Roman." I grab his arm, my nails digging into his skin. "I will not let you throw everything away. Not like this." My voice breaks, tears streaming down my face. "There's a light inside you—something good and pure that burns brighter than all this darkness. I've seen it. I've felt it." I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath my fingers. "It will win, Roman. I swear to God, it will win."

He slams his fist against the wall, his voice a raw scrape. "How can you be so goddamn certain about everything, Lilith? The world isn't this fantasy place where light conquers darkness every time!" His eyes burn into hers. "Sometimes darkness devours everything. It consumes until nothing's left. How can you look at me and not see that happening?" His hands tremble. "I'm drowning in it." He drags in a ragged breath, voice dropping to a whisper that cuts like glass. "My mother's death ripped the light from me when I was three. Then my father—" His throat constricts. "That bastard extinguished whatever flame was left. Twenty-two years later, I'm still choking on that smoke. This isn't darkness that just lifts, Lilith. Maybe there's a spark inside me somewhere. Maybe. But the rest? It's a fucking abyss."

I sit down on his couch and pat it. He reluctantly sits next to me.

I reach for Roman's hand, my fingers trembling. "Roman," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the thundering of my own heart. "You have to have faith." I squeeze his hand harder, willing him to understand. "Faith. It's invisible, untouchable—I know that terrifies you—but I swear I have enough for both of us." My eyes lock with his, and I can see the storm brewing there. "Your father—" His jaw clenches instantly, a vein pulsing at his temple. God, I'm playing with fire. One wrong word and he'll explode, banish me from this penthouse forever. But the cards showed it so clearly, and something deep in my soul knows it's true. "You're right at the edge of something transformative with him." I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heart race beneath my touch. "I can feel it here, Roman. Not psychic mumbo-jumbo—this is pure, raw intuition screaming at me. You and Michael—you're going to heal. It's already happening."

He looks at me and his expression slams into me like a tsunami. I brace for rage—those obsidian eyes turning to volcanic glass, veins bulging in his neck, his massive hands seizing me and hurling me toward the elevator while his roar shatters the air between us. But no.

What I see instead rips through me like shrapnel—he's shattered, gutted, a man drowning in his own wreckage, yet... God help me... there's a desperate flicker in those eyes. Hope. Raw and bleeding hope. It's carved into every line of his face, a silent, primal scream asking if I truly believe he could forgive his father. Because beneath all that armor, beneath the fortress he's built around himself, he's desperate for that reconciliation with Michael. I can see it in his eyes.

He breathes my name—"Lilith"—and closes the space between us. His mouth finds mine with a tenderness that makes my knees weak, his lips a whisper against my own before deepening into something that makes my pulse quicken and my thoughts scatter.

I don't want this. I want to rip him open with words, force him to bleed out every dark secret, every buried pain. I need to drain his rage like venom from a wound before it kills us both. But his mouth crushes mine, and my body betrays me—electric, desperate. My fingernails dig into his shoulders as his teeth graze my neck. Words evaporate. They always do. And God help me, I'm already addicted to this cycle of silence and skin.