Chapter 18

Caleb gripped the steering wheel of his rental car with sweaty hands as Boston’s skyline loomed ahead like a concrete giant. The rapid beat of his heart echoed the thrum of tires on asphalt. He was close now, the investigation hinging on his success at the job interview.

Caleb Lingle had become Cal Lawrence, complete with a backstory and proper ID. The background check wouldn’t be an issue—he’d made sure of that—and he barely looked like himself anymore now that he’d gone back to a buzz cut. His long hair had made him too recognizable, and even though it had hurt, he hadn’t hesitated in taking it off. He looked like Cal now, but would he be able to play the role required of him? Only time would tell.

He’d driven his own car until he was sure he wasn’t being tailed, then switched it for a rental with Massachusetts plates that wouldn’t stand out as much.

“Ex-military.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Honorably discharged and moving with my boyfriend to Boston.” The backstory was frugal but solid, designed to raise no questions yet offer a respectful nod to his supposed service.

Another deep breath filled his lungs. He was doing this for Roman. An unexpected shiver ran down his spine. Caleb wanted nothing more than to keep him safe…and make him proud. God, he would miss him when he got the job. That was the biggest downside. He wouldn’t be able to commute. The three-hour drive was far too long. No, he’d have to stay in Boston and hate every night of it. That was a much higher price to pay than losing his hair.

He took the exit ramp that spiraled toward the heart of the city, the stark lines of office buildings like LEGO blocks on the horizon. Parking was easy, courtesy of the access code he’d received, and he parked in the garage under the building, then made his way up to the eleventh floor, where Coldrick Law resided.

He squared his shoulders, the weight of the whole team’s trust in him heavy. The reception area was all minimalist lines and cold efficiency. Behind a sleek desk sat a dark-haired woman with a headset typing furiously. She didn’t look up.

“I’m here for a job interview with Isabella Coldrick,” he said.

Her gaze flicked up, measuring him. Nodding curtly, she gestured toward the waiting area. “Have a seat. She’ll be with you shortly.”

Caleb perched on the edge of a black leather chair, its chill seeping through his clothes. The minutes crawled. He imagined Roman’s hand at the small of his back, grounding him. He focused on that imaginary warmth, letting it silence the doubts gnawing at his calm.

“Mr. Lawrence?”

Standing there was Isabella Coldrick, clad in a tailored suit that whispered power and control. Her handshake was firm, her skin warm against his own.

“Thank you for your patience,” she said, her smile professional yet genuine. “Shall we?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Caleb replied, following her.

The path to her office was a maze designed to intimidate, but Isabella Coldrick walked with graceful movements and a commanding presence. Her office was a contrast to the sterile hallways and waiting room—rich woods and deep reds with Japanese-style art on the walls. She invited him to sit across from her expansive desk.

“Your résumé is impressive,” Isabella said, her voice smooth as polished steel. “First, thank you for your service. What can you tell me about your time in the military?”

The way she worded that made it clear she understood he wouldn’t be able to tell her everything. Exactly why they’d chosen this for his background. “I was a cybersecurity officer stationed at the Pentagon for five years, ma’am. My specialty was preventing cyber-attacks by developing early warning systems or adapting commercially available systems for our purposes.”

“Why did you choose to enlist after your college degree? You could’ve worked anywhere.”

Lowell had been the one who had predicted this question, and he’d also given Caleb the perfect answer. “I felt a sense of duty to my country. I feel every young man should serve in the military for at least two years. It teaches discipline and structure, but it also instills a sense of purpose and a love for your country. I’m proud of my service and the way I was able to contribute to the safety of our country.”

“So why did you quit?”

“I decided not to reenlist because I’d met my boyfriend, now fiancé, and it was time for me to transition into civilian life.”

“Gotcha.” She leaned back. “I called Colonel Lewis, and he spoke very highly of you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m glad to hear that.” Colonel Lewis had been Lowell, who had served in the military and knew the lingo to sell Caleb’s background.

“He said you were the brightest on his team.”

Caleb shuffled his feet. “That’s… Thank you, ma’am.” He laughed self-consciously. “The colonel certainly never shared that with me, but that’s the military for you.”

He’d been waiting for a moment to throw in a soft joke like that, and Isabella chuckled as if on cue. “Well, he certainly sang your praises to me. Said he was sorry to see you go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What does your fiancé do, if I may ask?”

That had been the topic of a lot of debate. They’d needed a respectable job for him, but one that was strictly local and also wouldn’t ever link him to Whitman. “He’s an air traffic controller at Logan, ma’am.”

She whistled between her teeth. “That’s a high-stress job.”

“Yes, ma’am. I couldn’t do it, but he loves it. He’s the calmest person you’ll ever meet. Everything could be falling apart around him, and he’d be the only one giving orders and not panicking.”

“I suppose that’s a requirement for a job like that. I can’t imagine having to do that at a big airport like Logan.”

“He loves it, which is why I had to move here. He’s so good at what he does that I didn’t want to make him move.”

“That makes sense, but why did you decide to apply here? No offense, but with your résumé, you could do better.”

They’d expected this question too. The fact that, so far, he’d been prepared for everything she’d thrown at him gave Caleb confidence. “In all honesty, ma’am, I don’t expect to stay for more than two years. But right now, transitioning back into civilian life will require time and energy, plus my fiancé and I have a wedding to plan. I specifically applied for a job that wouldn’t expect crazy hours and wouldn’t come with absurd amounts of stress.”

She smiled, her gaze dissecting him like he was a puzzle she was determined to solve. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“I’d understand if that doesn’t work for you, but I wanted to set expectations from the start, ma’am.”

“Which I respect. This job does come with challenges, but mostly in terms of what’s still lacking and what you’d have to develop. We have the required basic cybersecurity, but I want to level up. We have important clients, for whom attorney-client privilege is sacred, and we can’t afford to be hacked and for the wrong people to get access to our systems.”

“Understood, ma’am. I’m confident I can raise your cybersecurity to Pentagon levels. That’s not me bragging. That’s me giving you a guarantee.”

Relief filled her face. “I like your confidence.”

“This isn’t a job where good enough cuts it. You either have to do it well or not do it at all.”

“I could’ve said that myself. You’ll find we aspire to high standards here.”

“As do I, ma’am.”

She chuckled, looking years younger all of a sudden and much more like the relaxed woman in the pic with her sisters than the ice-cold lawyer. “Do you think there’s a chance you could stop calling me ma’am?”

Caleb grimaced. “I doubt it, ma’am. Not anytime soon anyway, but I can try if you’d like me to. It’s become a habit. One that’s hard to break.”

She waved her hand. “In the bigger scheme of things, I can get over that minor infraction. When would you be able to start?”

“Immediately.”

“We’d set up a trial period of, say, a month. Maybe two.”

“Understood, ma’am. I also assume I’d only get partial access to your system during that time, which is only prudent.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she caught herself. “Of course. Our information is sensitive. Client confidentiality is paramount.”

Caleb nodded. “I don’t walk into places expecting to have all the keys handed to me. Trust is earned. I plan to earn yours, ma’am.”

Isabella leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen on her desk. “I believe you’re exactly what we’re looking for. The position is yours if you want it.”

Caleb’s breath hitched and disbelief warred with triumph. This was it, the infiltration point, a crack in the armor of Coldrick Law. He’d done it. Yet the weight of what lay ahead pressed on him as a reminder of the risks, of Roman’s worried frown.

“Fantastic,” he blurted out, then got himself under control again. “I appreciate you giving me a chance, ma’am. When would you like me to start?”

“Let’s say Monday. That will give you the weekend to prepare yourself. I’ll have HR set up a contract for you and email that to you.”

“Sounds perfect, ma’am.”

“Very well, Mr. Lawrence. Welcome aboard.” Isabella stood, extending her hand across the battlefield of her desk.

Caleb rose and took it, his grip as firm as hers.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said again, a sense of purpose solidifying within him. “You won’t regret it.”

She led him back to the exit, and he remained calm as he said goodbye. He walked out, each step measured, betraying none of the storm brewing inside. Behind him, the door closed, the click like the cocking of a gun. He had two days. Two days to prepare for the role of a lifetime—surviving in enemy territory.

Cheers went up when he got back to the mansion—after making sure his car had no trackers and no one followed him—and announced he’d gotten the job.

“Congrats, kid,” Wander said, the gruff edge to his voice not quite masking his concern. “You’re playing in the big leagues now.”

“Damn straight.” Caleb shot back, a half-cocked grin tugging at his lips despite the gravity of the situation.

Relief flooded through him, a sweet release after the tension of the interview. Yet beneath it simmered an undercurrent of something else—pride, maybe, or the thrill of the challenge ahead. It was a feeling he savored, one that reminded him of why he fought, why he played the game.

“Let’s toast to the man of the hour,” Ryan called out, and glasses were raised in salute.

Caleb’s gaze flicked to the empty chair, Roman’s absence a silent scream in the celebration. Soon, he’d seek him out, address the worry he knew would be etched in those dark eyes. But for now, Caleb let the camaraderie wash over him, anchoring himself in the present, in the victory.

The celebration had waned, the last echoes of laughter and clinking glasses fading into a quiet blanketing the mansion. Caleb’s sense of triumph was a receding tide, ebbing away as he felt Roman’s absence. The weight of what had been left unsaid pulled at Caleb’s gut.

He found Roman in his room, the space dimly lit, the air heavy with an unspoken tension. Roman sat on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped tightly, the knuckles white. He’d hung his jacket over a chair, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves, his usual impeccable appearance like a shield discarded.

“Roman,” Caleb whispered, but it was enough to draw those deep brown eyes up to meet his.

“Judging by the cheers, I assume you got the job?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Caleb.” Roman’s use of Caleb’s name now bore a different tone, one laden with concern. “You sure about this?”

Caleb nodded, but the certainty he’d felt earlier was a flickering flame in the draft of Roman’s worry. He closed the distance between them until he stood before him. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, the gesture raw and telling.

Roman gasped, his gaze locked on Caleb’s submission. It was a silent conversation, but this wasn’t about play or power exchange. This was comfort, connection, Caleb’s way of saying he understood the risks and the fear that shadowed them both.

“Jesus, Caleb,” Roman muttered, the words rough around the edges. He reached out his hand, hovered, then gently rested it atop Caleb’s head. The tremble in that touch showed a vulnerability rarely seen in the stoic DA.

“Hey,” Caleb said softly, looking up, “I’ve got this. I’m not some rookie.”

“I know. I’m an ass. I should’ve… Fuck, Caleb, I should’ve handled this better.” Roman raked a hand through his short dark hair, a gesture of frustration that Caleb found both endearing and heart-wrenching.

Caleb’s throat tightened, but he managed to keep his composure. “You don’t have to apologize for caring.”

“Yeah, but…” Roman sighed heavily as if the weight of his words was almost too much to bear. “I’m worried about you taking this job, stepping into the lion’s den. It’s not just the risk. It’s the thought of you…of anything happening to you.” His voice dropped to a whisper, a confession torn from somewhere deep within.

Did that mean Roman cared for him? Like, truly cared for him? Caleb was afraid to ask. Instead, he placed a tentative hand on Roman’s forearm, the warmth of his skin grounding him. A storm of feelings swirled in Roman’s gaze. Caleb’s heart thudded against his ribcage. For a moment, time seemed suspended, the world reduced to the space they shared. Then Roman exhaled, a surrendering breath that seemed to carry the weight of his fears.

“Caleb, my sweet boy,” Roman said. The unexpected term of endearment sent lightning sparks through Caleb’s body. “I know you’re competent and skilled.” He lifted his hand to Caleb’s shoulder but didn’t touch it as though afraid the contact might shatter them both. “I’m scared for you. Scared shitless. I can’t mask that with pleasure or pain. Not this time. I need?—”

His voice broke, a rare crack in Roman’s composed facade. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I need more than that.”

The words stung like a slap of reality cold against Caleb’s cheek. Wasn’t his surrender enough? “More?”

“I need you. Not Caleb the sub. Caleb the man. No games, no play. Just you and me.”

Caleb’s breath hitched, the sting blooming into understanding. This wasn’t a rejection. This was Roman laid bare, stripped of the pretense that their games could outrun reality. Caleb rose, closing the space Roman’s fear had carved out.

“Okay,” Caleb said, voice thick. “Tonight, we’re Caleb and Roman, not sub and Dom.”

“Christ,” Roman murmured, relief mingling with the turmoil across his features. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”

Conflicted emotions played across Roman’s face, a storm brewing in those rich brown eyes that had seen too much and still dared to hope. The room felt charged with an intensity that had nothing to do with dominance and submission but everything to do with the raw honesty that vulnerability demanded.

Something unspoken passed between them. Roman rose and pulled Caleb up, and they stood chest to chest, the air between them thick with things unsaid.

“Come here,” Roman whispered. It wasn’t a command but an invitation, a plea.

Caleb went willingly into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Roman’s broader frame, finding solace in the strength of his hold. Roman’s arms settled around him, a fortress against the chaos of the world outside. Their bodies aligned perfectly, fitting together as though molded from the same clay.

“Tonight, let’s forget the roles, the expectations.” Roman’s breath was warm against Caleb’s scalp. “Let’s just be us, no scenes, no power play. Just…together.”

A shiver ran down Caleb’s spine, not from fear or cold but from the profound sense of connection Roman’s words evoked. He nodded against Roman’s chest, the steady beat of his heart a reassurance that no words could match.

“Let’s get ready for bed,” Caleb said, his voice husky with the remnants of vulnerability. The room now crackled with a different kind of tension, one devoid of whispered commands and obedient submission yet somehow more intense.

Roman kept his gaze locked on Caleb’s, unguarded and raw. They moved in sync toward the bed, shedding layers of clothing with each step. Ties loosened, shirts unbuttoned, their usual meticulous undressing replaced by an urgency to simply be close.

In the muted light of the bedroom, Roman brushed his hands over Caleb’s skin, tracing the lines of ink that mapped Caleb’s history. His touch was no longer that of a Dom seeking submission but of a man yearning for connection. Caleb leaned into the caress, soaking up the warmth radiating from Roman’s fingertips.

Roman pulled Caleb toward the bed. They lay side by side, facing each other, a collision of need and reassurance. When their lips met, the kiss conveyed their mutual desire for closeness without the trappings of their usual dynamic.

They deepened the kiss, mouths opening, breaths mingling, hands touching and exploring. They broke apart, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breaths. Roman’s eyes, usually so full of authority, shimmered with something softer now. Caleb saw his own fears and hopes reflected at him.

“Stay with me,” Roman said, not a command but a plea.

“Yes, Sir. Roman.”

They slid under the sheets, cool against their heated skin. Roman stretched an inviting arm open for Caleb to nestle into. With a contented sigh, Caleb curled against Roman’s side and his head found its place on Roman’s chest as if it belonged there.

Before Caleb knew it, he was asleep.