Chapter 113

Summer's POV

I curled deeper into the bedroom armchair, pulling my sweater tighter as I tried to focus on my novel, but the words kept blurring together.

Two weeks since the snake incident, and Brandon had turned into an overprotective guardian. He wouldn't let me do a single household chore—not even loading the dishwasher. Every time I reached for a dirty plate, Brandon would materialize to take it from my hands and give me that commanding look.

I felt useless. And the worst part? I was starting to enjoy being pampered.

The clock showed nearly midnight. Brandon was still in his study working, as usual. My phone buzzed—Grandpa George calling.

"Grandpa!" I greeted. "Everything okay?"

"I'm good." His gruff voice carried its usual blend of affection and impatience. "Victoria and Alexander's wedding is the day after tomorrow."

My stomach did a strange little flip at the names, not from jealousy but from instinct—hearing the two people who had betrayed me so thoroughly.

"Yeah, I know," I replied casually. "I got the invitation."

"Are you doing alright with that?" Concern laced his words. "I know it can't be easy."

I almost laughed at his worry. Alexander and Victoria seemed like characters from another lifetime now. "Grandpa, I'm completely fine," I assured him. "Honestly, they could get married on the moon and I wouldn't care."

"You sound sincere," he admitted, "but sometimes these things hit us in ways we don't expect."

My heart squeezed with affection for this man who'd always looked out for me. "I love you for caring, Grandpa. But trust me, I'm good. Better than good, actually."

After hanging up, I sat there thinking about his concern. A few months ago, news of their wedding would have devastated me. But now? They were just people who once hurt me but no longer had the power to affect my happiness.

I headed downstairs to the kitchen and prepared some ginger tea. Brandon had been working too hard lately, and though he'd never admit it, I'd noticed the slight roughness in his voice.

Cup in hand, I made my way to his study, finding the door slightly ajar. Brandon sat behind his massive desk, surrounded by documents, his laptop casting a blue glow across his face. He looked up the moment I entered, those dark eyes instantly finding mine.

"You're still up," he said, attention immediately shifting from work to me.

"How do you always do that? I barely made a sound."

"I felt you," he replied simply.

I rolled my eyes. "Right. Your Brandon-sense was tingling." The corner of his mouth quirked up in that dangerous half-smile. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Couldn't sleep," I said, setting the mug on his desk. "Thought you might want some tea."

Brandon eyed it suspiciously. "Is that ginger tea? I'm not sick."

"It's practically winter, and you're working late. Again. Just drink it."

To my surprise, he picked up the mug without further protest and drank the entire thing. I moved behind him, my hands settling on his shoulders. His muscles were tight with tension beneath my fingers.

"You work too hard," I murmured, thumbs pressing gently against his temples. Brandon's eyes drifted closed as he relaxed into my touch. "Almost done. Just a few more details."

I took in the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Running Stark Group wasn't just a job—it was his entire life.

"Brandon, doesn't it exhaust you? Managing all these different companies?"

"It's fine," he replied, leaning further into my touch. His hand captured mine suddenly, tugging me around the chair and into his lap.

"June," he murmured, voice low in the quiet study. "Are you worried about me?"

"No," I lied. "I'm just thinking that if even you don't care about your own health, why should I bother?"

"Who says I don't care?" Brandon's eyes were serious. "I'm very invested in my wellbeing."

"Right," I scoffed. "That's why you work until midnight and forget to eat lunch half the time."

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I have you to remind me now. You came to my study this late. Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

I bit my lip. "Actually, yes. I was thinking we should visit Grandpa George soon? Officially, I mean. He's worried that the wedding might upset me. I want him to see that I really am happy now. With you."

A subtle tension tightened Brandon's jaw. I couldn't help but smile. "Are you jealous? Of Alexander?"

"Jealous? What's that?" He captured my hand, his gaze darkening with a sudden, intense heat. "I don't need to be jealous of a shadow from your past when I have the reality of you right here."

Outside, waves crashed against the shore. The study was warm, the lamp casting a golden glow that shrunk the world down to just the two of us.

"I want to make it official," I whispered, leaning in.

His hands found my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. "You pick the day," he promised, his voice dropping to a low, husky rasp that sent a shiver down my spine. "I'm all yours."

As his lips met mine, the papers on the desk were forgotten. The air in the study thickened with a sudden, overwhelming tension—not of work, but of a deep, undeniable longing. In the quiet of the night, every touch felt amplified, a silent promise of the passion that bound us together, far more powerful than any words could describe.