Nicholas stood on the balcony of the penthouse, his phone pressed to his ear, voice low and cold.
"Find him."
There was a pause on the other end.
"No, I don't want excuses. I want eyes on him by nightfall. And I don't care if you have to turn the city upside down to get it done."
Another pause.
"No. No bruises unless I say so. I want him breathing when I see him."
He hung up without waiting for a reply.
Nicholas let the phone drop into his pocket and stared out at the skyline for a moment, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him. Every time he thought about Ella on that floor—bleeding, unconscious, barely breathing—his vision blurred with rage.
But inside that room just beyond the glass doors was the one person he had to keep calm for. The one person he'd put everything aside for.
He turned back inside.
Ella was still in bed, propped up against the pillows with a book in her lap, though she hadn't turned the page in nearly five minutes. She looked lost in thought, chewing the corner of her lip.
He walked over quietly and crouched beside her bed.
"Earth to Ella."
She startled a little, eyes lifting to meet his.
"You're quiet," he said, voice softer now. "Everything okay?"
She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Just thinking."
"Thinking is dangerous," he teased, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. "Especially on an empty stomach."
Her mouth lifted in the barest of smiles. "You've already fed me twice today."
Nicholas mock-scowled. "And it's still not enough. You were basically starving in that house."
She lowered her eyes, embarrassed, but he tilted her chin up gently.
"Hey," he said softly. "No more shame here, alright? You're safe. I'll feed you ten times a day if I have to."
She laughed quietly. "You'd go broke."
He smirked. "Not likely. I'm very good at making money. Though I've never had someone worth spending it on before."
That silenced her. Her eyes studied his, vulnerable and unguarded.
"You don't have to do all this," she whispered. "I'm not your responsibility."
"No," he said simply. "You're not."
He stood slowly, then sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. "But I want to be the one who takes care of you. If you'll let me."
Her fingers curled around his. "Why?"
Nicholas looked at her for a long moment before answering.
"I don't know what it is about you, Ella. But the day I met you, something shifted. And then when I saw what he did to you… I've never wanted to destroy someone so badly."
Her throat tightened, tears threatening again, but she blinked them away.
"I'm not used to this," she admitted. "Kindness. Safety."
"Well," Nicholas said gently, "get used to it."
He reached behind him and grabbed the small box he'd left on the nightstand.
"Here," he said, offering it to her.
Ella blinked. "What's this?"
"Open it."
She slowly unwrapped the tissue paper and lifted the lid. Inside was a soft cashmere sweater—a pale blush pink that looked delicate and warm at the same time.
Her eyes widened. "This looks expensive…"
"It's soft," he said casually.
She looked down at it, running her fingers across the fabric. It felt like clouds.
Nicholas leaned closer. "And," he added with a small grin, "I figured if I'm going to keep spoiling you, I might as well get started properly."
Ella's eyes welled up again.
"I don't know how to repay you for all this," she whispered.
"You don't need to repay me, Ella," Nicholas said gently. "Just… get better. That's all I want."
She hesitated, then slowly leaned forward and rested her forehead against his shoulder.
Nicholas froze for half a second, then wrapped his arms around her, cradling her gently. Her weight was nothing, but the trust in that small gesture nearly brought him to his knees.
"I didn't think anyone would come," she murmured. "Not even when I was screaming."
"I will always come for you," he said fiercely, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "Even if the whole world's against you—I'll be there."
She nodded against him, burying her face in his chest.
After a long while, she pulled back a little and whispered, "Will you stay here tonight?"
Nicholas tilted his head. "Here? With you?"
She flushed. "Not like that. Just… here. I sleep better when I know you're close."
His heart ached at how broken her innocence was, how she still thought she needed to explain that asking for comfort wasn't asking for too much.
"Of course I'll stay," he said, brushing her hair back. "Do you want me on the couch or—?"
"Just… the chair again," she said quietly. "I just want to hear you breathing."
He nodded.
And as she laid back down, he tucked the blanket around her and watched her close her eyes. He pulled the chair beside the bed and sat again, stretching his legs and resting his arm near hers on the edge.
As the minutes passed and her breathing evened out, he let his eyes drift shut too.
He would find Ryan.
He would make sure that man never laid a finger on another woman again.
But right now?
Right now, this was where he belonged.
Right next to her.