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Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A ngela hovered near the expansive windows of Holden's loft, her gaze straying to the city skyline that twinkled like a constellation. The shadows played hide and seek with the plush furnishings. She fiddled with the hem of her blouse, its silk fabric slipping through her fingers like liquid courage she wished she could drink. Her heart tap-danced against her ribs, each beat an echo of longing for the door to open.

Holden had gone to face Kendra on set. Angela had wanted to go with him, not so much as backup but as a fist to beat that blackmailer down. Holden had told her to stay and finish up with the lawyer. That was the best fist that they had. She'd finished with all the legalese and was now waiting for Holden to come home.

The click of the door's lock cut through the silence. Holden stepped onto the threshold, his tall, muscular form outlined by the hallway's less forgiving lights. He paused, as if bracing himself for the storm he expected to find inside.

"Angela—" Holden began, but she silenced him with an attack hug.

Her arms wrapped around his waist like ivy climbing an oak, relief flooding her senses as she pressed her cheek against the solid wall of his chest. His heartbeat thrummed against her ear, a reassuring drum that promised safety amidst the chaos.

"Hey," he said against the cone of her ear.

"Hey." She turned her face into his chest.

How had this man come to mean so much to her in so little time? It was likely because his heartbeat matched her own. Even more likely because he had listened to the hurts buried deep inside her chest and showed her his own. Definitely because he held on to her and didn't turn away like her parents had done, like his parents had done. They held on to each other.

"Did you get the tape?" she asked.

"Oh crap, I forgot."

Angela jerked backwards out of his hold. "You what?"

That trademark smile lit up his face. The one that promised legions of voyeuristic women that he would deliver them the pleasure they saw on the screen. "She's not going to use the video. She can't."

"But she still has it?"

"Actually, the director has it. But it's likely in the trash."

"Holden, I'm going to need you to explain yourself."

Holden's arms came back around her. Angela placed her hands on his chest and held still for him. Because even if she was going to be ridiculed and her career ended, this was the place she wanted to come home to: inside this man's arms.

"The video was of two people making love. It's a bad look for a hardcore porn company. They can't use it. They won't use it. You're safe."

His hold tightened around her, and she knew his words were true.

"Kendra's out of ammo. And I'm out of a job." As Holden buried his face in her neck, he drew her even closer into his embrace. He exhaled a long breath that carried the weight of a thousand unsaid confessions.

Angela breathed out, her lips grazing his skin just above the collar of his shirt, feeling the echo of his words vibrating through her body.

"I'm walking away from it all. I want to create something real, something meaningful. Focus on directing, but... different. Videos centered on women's pleasure. Empowering. Celebrating them. Every scene, every frame—it'll be about their desires, their joy," he said, his gaze locked on to hers with an intensity that felt as if it could ignite her very soul. "It's time I use what I've learned, what I've been given, for a greater good."

"That sounds hot," she whispered in his ear.

Holden chuckled and pulled away from her. He gazed into her eyes, and all Angela saw was raw honesty and determination there.

"Are you sure about this?" Angela asked. "You know, directing can be quite the... demanding position."

Holden's lips curled into a playful grin, the kind that always sparked a wildfire within her. "I think I can handle it, especially with my top advisor by my side."

She rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation. "Oh, I see how it is—using me for my brilliant mind."

"Among other things." His gaze swept over her in a sensuous caress that left a trail of heat in its wake. "You're the muse, Angela. My fire. My conscience. You make it all worth it."

Their mouths met in a kiss that was at once both an affirmation and a vow, a meeting of two souls that had found their match in passion and purpose. Her hands traced the contours of his back, mapping out the terrain she adored.

Angela felt the words, but she wasn't ready to say them yet. So she?—

"I love you, Angela."

She gulped at the declaration. She'd heard it from her ears, so she knew she hadn't hallucinated.

"I know it's only been a few days. But I've seen enough of the fake stuff to know the real deal."

Angela's lips worked. But her mouth was dry, likely because she was breathing so shallowly, her lungs racing to keep up with her heart.

"You don't have to say—ouch!"

Holden rubbed at the spot on his chest where Angela had given him a whack.

"I wanted to say it first," she huffed. "But I thought it was too soon."

"Oh." He grinned. "My bad. How would you like for me to make it up to you?"

"Kiss me."

"Where?"

"Correct answer."

Angela snagged Holden's hand and tugged him toward his bedroom. He came willingly, eagerly. And as the scene faded to black, the certainty of their love was the only spotlight they needed, guiding them into a future where every moment was a celebration of their union.

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