Suite on the Boss (New York Billionaires Book 5)

I wake up in a bed much larger than my own. Cotton is soft against my skin, and I stretch my legs, finding that my muscles ache. There’s a heavy arm around my waist, beneath the cover. A warm body is lying behind mine.

Isaac.

I blink my eyes open and look at our surroundings. The hotel room, the sparse decor, the scent of citrus from their diffusers. We must have forgotten to draw the blinds, and soft light filters in through the giant windows. The sun is rising over the lake. It sets the rippling water ablaze in soft morning colors, and the dense foliage around hints at fall. It’s beautiful.

I hadn’t realized how much I needed an escape from New York, and an escape from the ingrained routine that’s became my lifeline over the past year. Possibility feels thick in the air here. A different life, and a different outlook.

And I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed last night.

My eyes fill with moisture. I blink to clear the tears away, but they don’t stop, my emotions rising within my chest. It’s been a few intense weeks, and an intense weekend.

On top of the most intense year of my life.

And now this beautiful sunrise outside the window, setting off the fall colors. Another season is changing, and I’m here to witness it, and maybe I haven’t noticed the seasons changing, not really, not for an entire year. Maybe I can find something good again. Not like how it was with Percy, and not like how it was after him. But maybe I can create my own future, and it won’t be what I’d imagined, but it can still be a beautiful thing. I’m grateful that I get to see it all, and for the first time in months, the thought of the future fills me with excitement.

The warm arm around me flexes. “Morning,” he mumbles into my neck. His voice is rough and hoarse, and my silent tears flow faster at the sound. He’s so unguarded here with me, and I’m grateful for that, too.

You’re so silly, I think and blink rapidly to clear the tears before he notices. They’ve always come at the most inconvenient times. When I’m furious, or humiliated, or overwhelmed with emotion. Always and forever in situations where I feel the least comfortable crying. It’s an aspect of my body I’ve never been able to control.

“Good morning,” I murmur.

His body shifts behind mine. “Have we slept in?”

“No clue.” The only alarm clock this wellness retreat has is the sun, apparently.

“I can’t remember the last time I did that.”

“Me neither.” My voice isn’t wavering, but I’m not speaking above a whisper, either. The emotions inside have started to ebb.

He clears his throat, but it’s still hoarse with sleep. “You know what I just realized?”

“No?”

“You didn’t ask me any intrusive questions last night. Not a single one.”

I turn my face to the pillow, hoping it soaks up some of my tears. I’m proud, I think, that I dared to do this again.

“There’s still time,” I say.

“I’ll admit, I’m very curious what they might be.” His hand on my waist slides up, caressing my body. “I might have some of my own.”

“Oh?”

He brushes his lips over my neck. “Yes. You know, to evaluate last night.”

I nudge him with my hip and he groans, pulling me tighter into the cradle of his body. “Evaluate?”

“Yes,” he says. “I want to know everything you like.” His hand cups my breast softly. “We both want to be the best, you know.”

“Clear communication,” I murmur.

“Exactly. Hard to imagine, though,” he says, face in my neck, “how I could possibly enjoy sex with you more than I did last night.”

The compliment makes me smile. My tears have stopped, the only remnants the tracks on my cheeks. He’s still here, and he’s still unguarded. The magic spell hasn’t broken yet. I hope it never will.

Isaac rises on an elbow behind me. I roll into the cavity he leaves behind, looking up at him. His hair is mussed, and his eyes are warm. He looks glorious like this.

But then his eyes widen in alarm. “Sophia?” He runs a soft hand over my wet cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been crying.”

“Yes, but it’s nothing.”

His jaw tenses. “Please tell me.”

“I got emotional, that’s all,” I say with a smile. “Looking at the sunrise and being here with you.”

His thumb rubs slow circles on my cheek. They’re soothing, and I lift my leg to hitch it around his waist. “They’re good tears. I promise.”

“Right,” he says it like he doubts that concept. “You’re thinking about the past.”

“No, I’m not,” I say, shaking my head. I lock my hands around his neck. “No, I want you to ask me an intrusive question.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Never been surer about anything,” I say and pull him down on top of me. “You got us a late check-out, right?”

And I think he understands, even if he doesn’t know why, that it’s not something I can explain. It takes us another two hours to make it out of the room. He was cautious after my tears, but with every movement and every word, his hesitation wore down when he saw I wasn’t actually sad.

We play tennis, one-on-one, and roast in the spa afterwards. “Excellent choice,” he murmurs in the sauna, running a finger beneath the shoulder strap of my emerald bikini top. I kiss him. It’s a communal space, and we’re both adults, and still, I kiss him like we’re teenagers who can’t resist.

He shifts me against his hip afterwards, smiling crookedly. His hair is so wet it looks almost black. “I want to see where you live,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “I think that can be arranged.”

“I’m curious, you know, what a hotel emperor’s apartment might look like.”

“It has a throne, for one.”

“Of course, it does. Dungeons, perhaps?”

“No, that would be a bit gauche,” he says, eyes sparkling. “And unnecessary. The moat already keeps out all the rabble.”

I laugh. “I’m so grateful you’re considering lowering the drawbridge for a lowly commoner.”

“It’ll always be lowered for you,” he says. “Let’s do an evening this week.”

I nod and lean back against the wooden backing. “Isn’t this so much better than the sushi lesson you bid on, too?”

He chuckles. “I would have paid more money just to get out of that one.”

We stay as late as we can that day; until we have to leave the secluded Connecticut getaway. Isaac lifts both of our bags into the trunk of his SUV. In a wool sweater and a down vest, he looks relaxed. At ease. Another version of himself, one that’s just as competent in the forested expanse around us as he is in the concrete jungle back home.

“I’m glad we have another full week,” I say.

He smiles, and reaches out to brush back a strand of hair from my face. It’s still damp from our shower. “Yes,” he murmurs. “So am I.”

I kiss him, just because I can, and vow to myself that I’ll make the next week the best one I’ve ever had.