Chapter 545: CLO

"I know." I kissed her temple, that soft spot that made her melt a little. "But I wanted to understand you. Who you are beyond the sex—because Jesus Christ, the sex was good, but that’s not the point. What matters to you. What you’ve built. What you’re

protecting."

I paused, because this next part was important and I needed her to hear it. "I didn’t want to make my needs first before knowing what the fuck is on your shoulders, knowing you better."

She went quiet. Not the awkward kind, but the

processing

kind, like her brain was a computer with too many tabs open. "What did you learn?"

"That you’re first-generation success." I said it quietly, because these kinds of truths deserved softness. "Your parents came here with $200 and a dream. You put yourself through Berkeley and Stanford on scholarships and student loans you’re still paying off. You work sixteen-hour days because you’re terrified of losing what you’ve built. You send money home every month without fail."

I cupped her face, made her look at me. "You’re brilliant and driven and scared and brave all at once."

Fresh tears spilled over. "Peter—"

"I’m not asking you to risk any of that." My thumbs brushed her cheeks, wiping the wet away. "Keep your job. Keep building your career. Keep supporting your family. Keep being brilliant. I’m just asking to be part of your life while you do all of that."

"And the age thing doesn’t bother you? I’m twenty-eight. You’re sixteen. If word gets out about us—"

"It won’t."

"You can’t guarantee that."

"Watch me." I smiled, the one that meant I wasn’t fucking around, the one that had made grown men nervous. "I have resources you can’t imagine. And I protect what’s mine."

"I’m not yours

yet."

"No," I agreed. "But you will be." I kissed her softly, just a brush of lips. "And while you figure that out, I’ll give you everything. Protection. Support. Resources. Whatever you need to keep building. To keep succeeding."

She studied me like I was a contract full of fine print. "You mean that."

"Completely."

"Why? Why me? You could have anyone. Younger women. Easier women. Women who’d say yes right now without hesitation."

"Because you’re brilliant." The answer was simple. True. "Because you challenge me. Because you built something from nothing and you’re not willing to throw it away for a pretty face and good sex. Because you’re worth the wait."

"Peter—" Her voice cracked, all that vulnerability she’d been holding back spilling out.

"I’m already halfway there with you," I admitted quietly, letting the truth be naked between us. "Falling. From the moment I saw you destroy that bartender. Then humiliate those VIP assholes. Then look at me like I was the only person in the room who understood you. I was hooked before we even left the club."

She laughed through tears, this beautiful broken sound. "This is insane."

"The best things usually are."

"My mother really would die if she knew."

"Your mother will love me."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I’m going to take care of her daughter." I said it like it was obvious, like I was explaining gravity. "Make sure you’re successful, happy, protected, and loved. What mother wouldn’t approve of that?"

"A mother who finds out her daughter is dating a sixteen-year-old with eighteen other women."

"Details," I grinned, made her laugh despite everything, because sometimes you gotta laugh or you’ll scream.

She settled against me, arms around my neck, head on my shoulder. Just breathing me in like I was oxygen.

We knelt there on the floor together. Morning light golden around us. Just existing in this moment that felt suspended from reality.

"Tell me about your companies," she said eventually, voice muffled against my neck. "Your work. What you’re building."

So, I did. About Quantum Tech. The five companies from Miami—Meridian Logistics, Apex Manufacturing, Cloudstone Infrastructure, Genway Research Labs, Hartfield Investment Group. Liberation Holdings as the parent company. The empire taking shape. Not everything. But enough.

She listened. Really fucking listened. Pulled back to look at me while I talked. Asked smart questions about corporate structure, legal compliance, regulatory issues, IP protection.

"You’re building something massive," she said when I finished. "Multi-billion dollar massive."

"Trying to."

"You’ll need lawyers. Good ones.

Corporate

counsel for each subsidiary. Someone to handle M&A when you acquire more companies. Regulatory compliance specialists. IP attorneys for Quantum Tech’s patents."

"I will."

"I know some people. At my firm and at others. I can make introductions."

"Or—" I traced her jaw, let my thumb linger. "You could come work for me."

She laughed, real and bright. "I’m not

quitting

my firm after one night with you, Peter."

"I know. But think about it. Chief Legal Officer for Liberation Holdings. Oversee legal strategy for all five subsidiaries. Structure acquisitions as we grow. Build something even bigger than what you’re doing now."

"That’s—" She blinked. "That’s a massive position. CLO of a multi-billion dollar holding company?"

"You can handle it. You just structured a $200 million pharmaceutical merger. Imagine structuring billion-dollar acquisitions. Building legal frameworks for entirely new technologies. Protecting IP worth hundreds of billions."

Of course, with ARIA there’d be no mistakes, and she’d also learn more than she did; with his other women—with the Lens.

"Peter—"

"Not now. When you’re ready. If you’re ever ready. Just know the option exists."

She studied me, that lawyer brain running calculations. "You’re serious."

"Always."

"And you’d trust me with that? After knowing me one night?"

"I trust your mind. Your skills. Your drive. Your ethics. The rest we’ll figure out as we go."

She was quiet. Then smiled, small but genuine. "You’re very good at this."

"At what?"

"Making me feel seen. Valued. Like I matter beyond just my body."

"You do matter. Everything about you matters." I pulled her closer. "Your brain. Your ambition. Your success. Your fears. Your family. Your dreams. All of it. I want all of it."

"Even the messy parts?"

"Especially the messy parts even though I know none yet."

She kissed me. Long and slow, pouring everything she couldn’t say into it.

When we broke apart, she rested her forehead against mine. "I think I’m going to fall in love with you."

"Good. Because I’m already halfway there with you."

"You said that already."

"Worth repeating."

She laughed, real laughter this time. "You’re impossible."

"I’m yours. If you’ll have me."

"Not yet. But you’re working on it."

"I am."

We held each other. Just breathing. Being. The morning light making everything warm and golden.

"I really should shower now," she said eventually, reluctantly.

"Want company?"

"If you come with me, we’ll never leave this apartment."

"I see no problem with that."

"Peter." She pulled back, smiled. "Breakfast first. Real food. Then shower. Then we’ll see about—" She paused. Counted. "—round three."

"Fair enough."

She stood, pulled me up with her, then headed for the bathroom.

Paused at the door. Turned back. "Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"I’m glad you sat at that bar last night."

"Me too."

"And Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For seeing me. All of me."

I smiled. "Always will, Priya. Always."

She smiled back. Disappeared into the bathroom.

I stayed there for a moment. Then moved to the window, looked out at LA waking up, morning light making everything golden.

Priya Sharma. Twenty-eight. Corporate lawyer. Brilliant. Beautiful. Scared. Brave. His.

She’d fall in love with me eventually. I’d make sure of it.

Just needed time. Patience. Respect. Support.

And I’d give her all of that.

Because women like Priya didn’t need grand gestures or empty promises.

They needed someone who saw them as equals, capable of standing independent. Who valued their minds more than their bodies, who supported their ambitions instead of competing with them.

I could do that.

Plus, the multiple orgasms definitely helped.

I smiled.

Yeah.

This was going to work just fine.