"Wow." I walk along the shelves, looking at the countless works displayed in them, from Hemingway to Austen to Poe and many, many more. "These must be worth thousands," I mutter, more to myself than for anyone to hear.

"Oh, yes, they are," Celeste confirms. "That's why only a handful of people get to see them. I saved these books from my parents' heritage, and this man here made sure you got them all for yourself today."

Hayden stands there, leaning against the doorway, his gaze aimed at me. I can't help but smile, using all my energy to keep the tears at bay. The amount of attention he offered me all day becomes more and more surreal with every minute that passes.

"Most of these are originals. Some even signed. My parents were literature lovers through and through. Here, let me show you something." Celeste points toward a different, much-smaller door, which she pushes open with ease. "This is my mother's collection of Charlotte Brontë's work. It's every piece she ever published in original, mint condition."

I stand there, studying this gigantic shelf filled with the works of my favorite author of all time. I don't even dare to touch these books—they just seem so valuable, so rare, so raw.

The heavy smell of old paper and wood fills my senses as I read every title on the back of every book, these treasures in front of me overwhelming me with privilege and gratitude. "How are these originals? Jane Eyre was written in 1847..."

But Celeste just smiles at me, the smile of a wise woman, before she answers my question. "My parents and their parents had a lot of connections. Back then, things worked differently, and people actually valued what they had. They cherished every book they read like they wrote it."

I don't even know what to say to that, believing just how true her words are.

"I'll give you a minute to snoop around. But please, if you want to touch or hold or even read them, come see me first. Okay, dear?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Celeste."

Her retreating footsteps resonate when she walks away and closes the door behind her, but I'm still studying the books in front of me, getting as close to them as I can without touching them.

A slight breeze travels through the room, delivering Hayden's scent right into my atmosphere, and I realize I must've been standing here for a long time without actually acknowledging him. I turn around to find him still leaning against the doorframe, a curious expression on his face while I just stare at him, watching how he scratches the back of his neck.

"I, uh...I hope you like it, I remembered you said something about Brontë and I—"

"Are you kidding?" I interrupt him before he even dares to say something bad about this situation. "Like it? Hayden, this..." My gaze flicks to the books and then back to him as I try to find the right words for this moment. "This is..." And when I look at him at this moment, I'm hit with such a wave of appreciation, of gratitude, of pure and utter joy, that I almost can't breathe. I can't fight the tears anymore at this stage, my mind overwhelmed by this man's attention to detail. "No one has ever done anything like this for me." I sob out the words, and within seconds he's by my side, one hand on my waist while the other brushes over my wet cheek.

"Oh, Mila." His voice is thick with compassion, and it's incredibly hard to swallow the lump in my throat when his thumb circles over my skin, his gaze piercing right into my soul as I lean into his touch. It all gets too much, like my emotions are threatening to steamroll right over me, and I lean forward to rest my head against his chest, listening to his thundering heart beneath my ear.

To my surprise, he doesn't comment on my behavior. Instead, he wraps his arms around my body, his fingers gently skimming over my back as I take deep breaths, tightening my hold on him to try and get a grip.

I'm not used to this treatment. I don't know how to get my heart to stop thundering in my chest, and when his scent hovers around me like a threat to my sanity, I can't stop the overflow of emotions that settles right in my throat, sending waves of tears down my cheek.

I hide my face in his chest, taking deep breaths to steady myself, hoping Hayden doesn't try to look at me this moment. I don't want him to see me like this, like the fragile, sensitive soul I've always been perceived as.

Because Hayden Cross opened Pandora's box, and I discover this new, confident, and desired version of me when I'm around him. I almost feel eloquent when he's with me, although I'm pretty sure I'm not—the elevator incident proved that. But I feel it, nonetheless. And it's such an amazing feeling, one I'm slowly getting addicted to.

After a while, my breathing starts to find a steady rhythm again, and I think I might actually be able to look at him without embarrassing myself. So that's what I do—I glance up at him as his hands still caress my back, his concerned eyes immediately settling on mine.

"Thank you," I whisper, wiping the back of my palm over my cheeks to eradicate the residue of my emotional outburst.

"You're very welcome. I'm sorry if this was too much—"

"No, no," I interject, "it's not too much. Well, it kind of is. But it's the perfect kind of too much. I just...didn't expect this."

"Didn't expect what?"

"I don't know. For you to remember these things, to actually go out of your way to make this happen." I glance down at my hands and start fiddling with my bracelet, but it doesn't take long for Hayden to gently lift my head up until he's looking straight at me again.

"I try my best to remember every little thing about you, Mila. And you're definitely worth going the extra mile, I promise you that."

Again, I feel like I'm in a goddamn movie; everything this man says is just perfect. Utterly flawless, like he knows exactly the right words in every moment. It's fascinating, really.

"Do you want to stay here a little longer? I could grab a coffee, and you can spend more time here...I wouldn't mind."

I can't help but chuckle—again he knows exactly what I need. Time to gather my thoughts. "Are you sure?" I ask, but Hayden just shoots me a kind smile.

"Yes, I'm sure. I'll chat with Celeste in the meantime."

"Do I need to be worried that you're going to run off with her? She's quite the lady, that one."

His roaring laugh fills the room, and I join in without hesitation, watching how his amusement turns into a mischievous grin. "She is quite the woman, I admit...I am tempted." And then something changes within him; all amusement is wiped off his face as his eyes search mine, sincerity and pure truth in them. "But the only woman I'm ever going to run off with is you, Mila. Remember that."

I swallow, overwhelmed by this change of mood and especially by his words. Because as much as we talked about this, about us, we never talked about exclusivity. It'd be way too soon for that, anyway. "I will. "

"Good," he whispers, but before I can even say anything else, he kisses me again, a kiss that makes me melt once more, every inch of me at his mercy.

The effect this man has on me is unearthly and dangerous as hell, and I can feel him smile against our kiss as I give in to him, firmly gripping the back of his neck to pull him closer.

"Tempting, Lucky. But I have a lady to entertain." He smirks as he pulls back. And then he kisses me again, a swift and brief kiss, like we've done it our whole lives. "Just come out when you're ready," he adds with a wink, until seconds later, he's gone.

As I lean against the wall behind me, I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts before I get back to letting this room engulf me with its grace.

I don't know how long I actually stay in here, looking and breathing and thinking as every single book leaves its impression in my brain. It's been a while since I've felt this calm, collected, and at peace. To others, my reaction might seem silly, but to me, this is it. Writing is my passion, but reading is what fueled it, what gets me going most days.

Being privileged enough to observe these books, these original editions from my favorite author, whose stories have picked me up whenever I was down, shakes me to my core. Because Brontë's works have helped me so much, her words always fitting and so beautifully raw, that the mere thought of these editions existing while she lived, breathed, and wrote...it's earth-shattering to me.

After a while, I decide it's time to get out, my thoughts much clearer and my mind at ease for once. And so I leave the room and head straight to the table we were occupying earlier, only to find Hayden standing in the corner of the room, his back to me when he slips his phone into his pocket.

I walk up to him, wrapping my arms around his torso from behind, the move making him jump a little before he places his hand above my own, immediately realizing who I am.

"Hey..." He slowly turns around.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." I look up at him when he wraps his own arms around me, and I immediately notice something's off about his handsome face.

"It's okay, I just..." He sighs. "I just got a phone call from my manager, and he...he wants me in Las Vegas earlier than expected to start the season."

"I thought the season only started in two weeks or so?" I frown, but Hayden just smirks while raising an eyebrow, obviously not expecting that I knew that. "Stop smirking. I might or might not have looked some things up," I finally admit, and then his smirk turns into a bright smile as he tugs me closer to him.

"You did, huh?" The amusement is painfully audible in his voice, and I can't help but roll my eyes when he shoots me a smug grin.

"You're insufferable..."

My words elicit a laugh from him, and he starts spinning a strand of my hair between his fingers, appreciation sparkling in his eyes when he replies, "I know." But then, as he watches how he plays with my fair, he sighs again, and his beautiful smile turns into a frown when he says, "He wants me there on Friday."

"But that's in two days. Why does he want you there in two days if the season doesn't start for another fourteen?" I ask, even though technically, it's none of my business.

"It's about the bureaucracy behind it all. As team captain, I kind of can't not be there..."

I can hear the disappointment in his voice, which makes it much, much harder to be even remotely mad at him. Because it's not like he has a choice here. "I understand that, I guess." I can't deny I'm disappointed. I was looking forward to seeing more of him in the next few weeks, of getting to know him better. But it's not like we discussed any details about further dates, and I can't hold him responsible for something we didn't even talk about.

"I hate that I'm doing it again." He sighs.

"Doing what again?"

"Leaving you here. I promised the first time that I'd spend time with you as soon as I got back here, and I couldn't keep that promise then. And now I'm here and I'm doing the same thing."

"You didn't promise me anything, though."

"I did." He drops the hair between his fingers and now skims his knuckles over my cheek. "When I asked you to give this a chance, I promised to get to know you. And now I can't do that, at least not the way I wanted."

The way he frowns makes my heart bleed, and I get on my toes to press a swift kiss on his lips before I reply, "It's not your fault, though."

"No, it's not, but still..."

As much as I hate that he feels so conflicted now, this sensitive and thoughtful side of him is sexy as hell. Nothing's sexier than a man looking like him with a sensitive and kind soul.

His stormy eyes study me for a second, the rough skin of his fingers still brushing over my cheek. I inhale deeply; his scent alone makes my body tingle.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he finally asks.

"What?"

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Uh..." I raise an eyebrow. "Same thing as every day. Writing, I guess?"

"Good. Spend the day with me, then."

"What?"

His chuckle fills the room as he taps my nose, and I scrunch it in response, eliciting a proper belly laugh from him. "I think Celeste has better hearing than you, Lucky."

I roll my eyes, though I can't hide the smirk on my lips as I respond, "I heard you. I just wasn't sure what you meant."

"I meant what I said. Spend the day with me."

"Don't you have somewhere to be? Meeting or training or stuff?"

"Kind of. But we already had a date scheduled for tomorrow, and I'll just move the rest of the stuff around so we can spend the whole day together," he says before tugging me closer to him again. "Spend the day with me, Lucky."

The way he speaks shows me he's sincere, that he really wants this. And still, there's this nagging feeling in the back of my mind. What if he's only doing this because he feels obligated to spend time with me now?

"You really don't have to do that. I—"

"Mila...I swear to the fucking gods," he interrupts. "Spend. The. Day. With. Me." He emphasizes every word with quick kisses on my lips, and I instantly melt into his touch. His kisses make my head spin, my anxiety easing off from the sole feeling of his lips on mine.

"Okay," I agree without realizing it, but as Hayden pulls back, I see the grin on his face, and I can't help but laugh at the mere happiness in his eyes as he brushes another kiss on my nose.

"Thank you." He pulls me into his arms again. "I promise, I'll make it worth your while."