Chapter 1063
Skye looked up at him. The violence had receded from his eyes, replaced by an intense, focused warmth that was exclusively for her. It was terrifying how quickly he could switch gears. From executioner to partner.
“Let’s go,” Alistair said, guiding her toward the door. “I hear the sea bass is excellent.”
As they walked out, leaving the mess for the cleaners, Skye leaned into him. She allowed herself to believe that his restraint tonight was a sign of his loyalty to her—not just a temporary leash on a monster waiting to break free.
Le Bernardin was a temple of silence and seafood. The private dining room was encased in frosted glass, isolating them from the hum of the main floor. The table was set with stark white linens and crystal that caught the candlelight.
Skye raised her glass of vintage Krug. “To the acquisition,” she said, her voice steady.
“To the Queen,” Victoria toasted, clinking her glass against Skye’s. “And to the King’s restraint. Though I admit, I was checking the actuarial tables for Dominic’s survival odds.”
Alistair ignored the jab. He was watching Skye—not in that practiced, social way others did, but with a serious, focused intensity, his gaze tracking her every movement. The way she held her glass. The way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was the look of a man guarding a diamond in a room full of thieves.
Skye took a sip of champagne, the bubbles bursting sharply on her tongue. Over the rim of her glass, she watched Alistair engage in quiet conversation with Gabriel about perimeter security—his voice calm, authoritative, unhurried.
“Excuse me,” Skye said, setting her glass down. “I need a moment.”
She walked out of the private room, the heavy carpet muffling her heels. The restroom was a sanctuary of marble and gold leaf. Victoria followed her in a moment later.
Victoria leaned against the marble counter, crossing her arms. “He is intense tonight.”
Skye turned on the tap, letting cold water run over her wrists. “He is always intense, Victoria. That is who he is.”
“No,” Victoria corrected, her eyes sharp in the mirror’s reflection. “Tonight is different. He wanted blood. You denied him. Now he is vibrating—like a loaded weapon with the safety off.”
Skye turned off the tap and looked at Victoria. “He respects my decisions.”
“He obeys your commands,” Victoria said softly. “There is a difference. He is a war dog, Skye. You have brought him into the house, put a collar on him, and told him to sit on the rug. But he hears sounds you don’t. He sees threats where you see waiters. Just be careful. If he feels you are threatened, he won’t wait for your permission next time. He will burn the world down to keep you warm.”
Skye felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. “He isn’t a dog, Victoria. He is a man.”
“Is he?” Victoria raised an eyebrow. “He navigates violence better than he navigates a menu. He loves you, Skye. I don’t doubt that. But his love is heavy. It crushes things.”