Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(9)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“Upgrades?”

“Security. Cameras. Alarms.” Because he wouldn’t put her at risk. “I knew you’d want to go back.” He shrugged. “And I needed you to be safe when you did.”

Her lips tilted up and her eyes seem to warm. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

He did. Skye’s love was his certainty in life.

Sometimes, he felt like it might be his only one.

He smiled back at her. “Of course, you do. What’s not to love?”

And she laughed. A true, beautiful laugh. Light and free. He could see it then—see her coming back to him. Skye was pushing past her fear and trying to be happy once again.

He would do anything, everything, to make sure that she stayed happy.

“Arrogant,” she teased.

His head tilted in acknowledgment. He was. Arrogant. Controlling. Trace was well aware of his many faults.

And Skye still loved him? He was a lucky bastard, and he knew it.

“It’s a good thing you’re sexy,” she said, giving him a wink. “Something has to balance that arrogance.” And she left him, giving a saucy roll of her hips as she walked away.

He didn’t move. Just watched. Enjoyed the view.

I will always love you, Skye. Always.

When she gazed at him, love was in Skye’s eyes, too. Yet Trace couldn’t help but wonder…if she ever learned the full truth about him and all the things he’d done, would Skye still look at him the same way?

***

Trace had done more than a little bit of work at the fire station. “Upgrades, my ass,” Skye whispered.

He’d completely renovated the place.

Skye stepped inside the converted fire station, her gaze darting to the left and the right.

The hard-wood floors gleamed. Barres had been placed to run the length of the right wall. Floor to ceiling mirrors circled the main room, throwing her reflection back at her.

And there were—there were even storage lockers down the narrow hallway that snaked back from the main room. Shining, silver lockers for her students to use.

When she actually got her students to start attending her new dance studio.

“He said he’d installed new security here,” Skye said.

“Uh, well, you know the boss,” Reese replied from beside her. “The guy doesn’t believe in doing things half-way.”

No, he didn’t.

“He knew you’d want to come back here,” Reese continued. “And he told the crew that everything had to be ready for you.” He walked forward and motioned to the speakers that had been mounted on the ceiling. “Surround sound, you know, for that full dance experience.”

She’d come in, ready to get her hands dirty and her muscles aching, as she tore this place into shape.

But, in true Trace fashion, he’d done it for her.

“I can’t tell if you’re pissed or pleased,” Reese said, his drawl deepening as he scratched his jaw. “Kinda hard to determine from your expression.”

She stepped forward. “I think I’m both.” Pissed because he’d done all of this without her input but pleased because he’d cared enough to try and give her the dream she wanted.

Pissed or pleased?She still wasn’t sure.

Skye turned around and marched out of the main studio room. Trace’s crew had knocked out some walls, opening up the space. Columns secured the ceiling. The place looked huge.

“He left the fireman’s pole,” Reese said as he followed after her.

She glanced to the right. The fireman’s pole gleamed.

“The boss thought you might like it so he left strict instructions for the workers.”

Her gaze followed that pole upstairs. “What about the apartment up there?” Her hands had come to rest on her hips. Had Trace organized the apartment, too? Or had he been so sure that she’d move in with him that he hadn’t even bothered to touch that place?

“Uh…” Reese coughed. “Security was set up there, but I don’t think much else has been done.”

“Then I’ll do it,” she said, giving a firm nod. Because that upstairs area was still hers. She might be living with Trace, but she could use the upstairs apartment area as a refuge from the dance studio. She’d decorate every inch of it herself.

“He wanted to make you happy.”

Her attention shifted to Reese. He shrugged. “Trace…you know the boss doesn’t think like most people. He knew if you came back here, the way this place was…you’d work like a fiend to get it in shape. He wanted to help.”

“Trace likes his control.” Even in the bedroom. “But this time, it’s all right.” Because the studio’s condition meant that she could get her business up and running faster. She already had clients scheduled from weeks ago. She could contact them and get this place going—

And then she’d pay Trace back for the work he’d done. Every cent.

Because the studio is mine. She needed it to be.

Skye rolled her shoulders. This was going to happen. A smile spread over her face. “We’ll count this as a tentative pleased,” she said, “but if—”

A knock sounded at the main door. Skye turned, frowning. She hadn’t told any of her students-to-be that she was back in town yet.

“This way,” Reese said. He directed her to what had previously been a closet, but when she opened the door, she saw the area had been expanded. Four television screens were mounted on the wall. One showed the rear exterior of the old fire station, two showed the sides of the building, and the largest screen showed the entrance—and the man who stood there.

“Like the boss said,” Reese told her, “he upgraded your security.”

She leaned toward the big screen. “That’s Alex—Detective Griffin.” The one cop who’d finally believed her story about a stalker.

She turned away from the screen and hurried toward the front door. She hadn’t seen Alex in weeks. Before my abduction.

Because Mitch had taken her to New York, the NYPD had taken over the case. They’d closed the file on Mitch Loxley.

After quickly unbolting the door, Skye swung it open. “Detective Griffin!” A broad smile split her face. “It’s good to see you.”

He blinked at her, and an answering smile slowly stretched across his handsome face. Alex Griffin was just a little shorter than Trace, and his shoulders weren’t quite as wide, but the cop was fit and smart. And he’d been there for Skye when she’d been at the end of her rope.