Chapter 41

Levi.

"You would just walk away? That means you have no remorse for what you have done. For the lives that have been upended." Her voice echoed behind me, sharp and heavy with accusation.

I didn't answer immediately. I came to a halt in front of the bar, still deep within the sanctuary of 'The Cave'. I reached for a bottle of aged brandy and poured two glasses. Handing one to Kenya, I took a generous sip of my own, the liquid burning a path down my throat. I walked further into the room and sank into a plush, leather seat, the weight of the evening pressing down on me.

“I haven't said a word in my defense because, in many ways, you are correct," I admitted, my voice low. "I didn't think twice before I married you. To Benjamin, I am the man who disrespected his sister’s memory by moving on. He’s still hurting, and I don't blame him for his rage. But I couldn't remain in the shadows of the past once I found you."

I fixed my gaze on her, my back to the dark cinema screen. Kenya came to sit beside me, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her glass.

"I would do it all again, Kenya." I reached out and took her palm, placing it firmly against my chest, right over the steady thrum of my heart. "Every bit of it. Taking out the threats against you. Forcing this union. Going against the expectations of the world. I mean it, from right here." I pressed her hand harder against my ribs. "I only ask that I am granted forgiveness for my sins someday. Even if..."

I let the words hang, the pain of the possibility tightening my chest.

“Even if what?" she whispered, her breath hitching.

"Even if you continue to guard your heart against me. Even if I never see that fire of genuine affection in your eyes... it is enough for me just to have you near. I only ask for your grace, eventually."

"I don't despise you, Levi," she said softly, but I could hear the hesitation in her voice.

“You could have fooled me," I replied with a weary half-smile. "I see the conflict in you, Kenya. It runs deep." My thumb stroked the back of her hand, the contact making my pulse quicken.

She pulled her hand away gently, putting down her drink. The air in the room grew thick, charged with an emotion that neither of us was ready to name.

“We’ve been invited to a welcome reception on Saturday by my political associates," I informed her, breaking the heavy silence. She nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes wandering toward the far end of the room.

"Are those... poles?" she asked, her voice laced with astonishment.

I followed her gaze to the large, circular stage. Four shining silver poles stood under the ambient lighting, the stage draped in themes of black, emerald, and deep crimson. It was designed to be exotic, a space for raw, uninhibited movement.

I watched with quiet intrigue as she climbed the small stairs leading to the stage. She moved with a dancer’s innate grace, her hand trailing languidly along the cool surface of one of the poles. Her eyes were wide with fascination.

“Haven't you seen a dancer’s pole before?" I asked, coming to stand at the edge of the stage.

The sight of the diamond chain wound around her thigh caught the light, and a surge of protective, burning desire flared within me. It was a distraction I welcomed.

“Not up close," she admitted shyly. “I've seen them in films, of course. We use bars at the studio, but this is... different."

I stepped onto the stage, closing the distance between us. I wondered about the life she had led before me—the purity she held that I was so desperate to protect, even as I drew her into my world of shadows. I was the scarlet to her white, the storm to her calm.

I walked to the corner of the room and activated the sound system. A deep, rhythmic bass began to thrum through the floorboards, the speakers coming alive with a slow, seductive melody. She startled, her eyes meeting mine.

"Why the music, Levi?" she murmured as I drew close enough to catch the scent of her perfume.

“We've had a long, exhausting day," she suggested, her voice trembling slightly. "Perhaps we should retire."

I didn't back away. I watched her with the intensity of a man who had finally found the one thing worth holding onto. I had shed my jacket, my white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, my sleeves rolled up.

"I don't know if I can do this," she pleaded softly.

“Do what?" I loomed over her, my voice turning hoarse with unspoken need. "I want to see the goddess I saw that first night at the theater. The one who moves like the earth itself."

I leaned in, my words a soft caress against her skin. “Dance for me, Kenya," I requested—a command wrapped in a plea.

The air between us heated, charged with the promise of a connection that went far beyond the physical. I needed to see her spirit move.

“But I don't know how to use the pole," she whispered.

I leaned forward until our foreheads pressed together, the silver pole cool against her back. “You don't need the pole, baby. Just dance for me like you did on your debut. Give me that piece of your soul."

She inhaled a sharp breath, her gaze searching mine, looking for the man beneath the billionaire, the human beneath the predator.