Chapter 13 - The Broken Glass and the Confession
The gala concluded at midnight, but the city was wrapped in a quiet, dreamlike stillness.
The black Maybach did not drive south to Bay View. Instead, it pulled up to the private residential motor-court of the Pfister Tower—the historic penthouse skyscraper overlooking Lake Michigan.
Gideon unlocked the heavy brass double doors of the top-floor penthouse.
The space was a masterpiece of masculine elegance: double-height limestone walls, dark walnut parquet floors, soaring floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the frozen expanse of the lake, and a massive dry-stacked quartzite fireplace roaring with cedar logs.
Tessa kicked off her designer heels with a sigh of absolute relief, walking across the thick wool rug on bare feet.
"Comfortable?" Gideon asked, shedding his tuxedo jacket and tossing his bowtie onto the leather sofa. He poured two glasses of sparkling mineral water and joined her by the glass wall.
"My feet are officially on strike," she laughed, leaning her hip against the glass. "Six hours in heels is worse than sixteen hours over a hot deck oven."
Gideon stood beside her, his silhouette dark against the city lights.
"I have a confession to make, Tessa," he said quietly.
She turned to look at him, her brow furrowing with mild surprise. "The kingpin of Milwaukee confesses things?"
"Only to you."
Gideon set his glass down on the console. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a worn, folded sheet of parchment, handing it to her.
Tessa unfolded it.
It was a printed order receipt from Morrow & Finch Bakery, dated eighteen months earlier.
The order was for a three-tiered almond-plum cake with hand-painted gold leaf, delivered to the corporate boardroom of Rourke Logistics for an executive anniversary.
Tessa gasped softly. "You bought this cake."
"My board was holding a merger closing," Gideon explained, his eyes fixed on hers. "Everyone was drinking scotch and arguing about liquidation clauses. Then I tasted that cake."
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them.
"It was the first time in ten years I felt something that wasn't calculated, political, or cold. I called the bakery manager the next morning to ask who had designed it. She told me it was an apprentice named Tessa Wren."
Tessa looked at the receipt, then up at his chiseled face. "You knew who I was before Aureline."
"I knew your name. I knew your talent," Gideon admitted softly. "When Julian Vance boasted at his athletic club that he was going to humiliate a 'plain bakery girl' by setting her up on a blind date with me... I let him do it. Not because I wanted to watch a prank, but because I wanted an excuse to sit across a table from the woman whose hands could create such miracles."
Tessa’s breath caught in her throat. The entire evening—the laughter, the setup, the confrontation—had not been an accident. Gideon had stepped into the trap willingly, using his own terrifying reputation as an iron shield to protect her before she even knew she needed defending.
"You came for me," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I will always come for you, Tessa," Gideon answered, reaching out and cupping her face with both of his large, warm hands.
He leaned down and kissed her.
May you like
The kiss was not polite. It was not soft around the edges. It was fierce, hungry, and overflowing with months of restrained, volcanic passion. Tessa parted her lips with a soft sigh, wrapping her arms around his broad neck, pulling his heavy, powerful body against hers.
The cold world outside vanished. The shadows of her past burned away in the heat of his embrace.
