MARVIS POV
The room smelled like vanilla.
Not the cheap kind the warm, soft kind that stays on your fingers long after you touch it. The kind that makes you think of quiet nights and dim lights and someone who feels like home.
Her head was on my shoulder.
And I swear, for a moment… I forgot how to breathe.
Not because of the closeness that wasn't new. Melody had been close to me before. Close enough to fight me. Challenge me. Push me. Leave me.
But this?
This was different.
She wasn't running. She wasn't angry. She wasn't guarded.
She was just… there.
And that was more dangerous than any weapon.
Her breathing was slow, almost steady. I could feel the tremble in her fingers where they rested lightly on my arm hesitant, unsure, but still holding on.
And that was what ruined me.
I'd seen Melody furious. I'd seen her determined. I'd seen her broken.
But this version of her the one leaning on me like she needed methat was the one I could never defend myself against.
I raised my hand slowly. I didn't touch her cheek or trace her jaw like I wanted. Instead, my palm rested on her upper back, near her shoulder blade safe, respectful, but still… mine.
She relaxed into it. Like she trusted me.
And that was the part that hurt the most. Because I didn't deserve her trust. Not with everything I'd done. Not with the life I lived. Not with the things she still didn't know about me.
"Melody," I whispered, not even sure why.
She hummed softly, a sound so small it felt like it could break if I touched it wrong.
"You shouldn't be here," I said quietly.
Her hand curled slightly, gripping my shirt. "I know."
"But you came."
"I know."
"And you stayed."
She didn't answer at first. Just breathed. The kind of breath that carried more truth than words ever could.
I pulled back slightly so I could see her face not far, just enough. Her eyes were half-lidded, heavy with everything she'd been carrying for days.
Anger. Confusion. Fear. Want.
All swirling in one storm.
"You think I didn't care?" I questioned, my voice low.
Her lips pressed together, but she didn't deny it.
"You think I brought those women here because I didn't feel anything for you?"
Melody lifted her gaze, and for the first time tonight, I saw the real wound. Not anger. Not jealousy.
Hurt.
"You didn't stop them," she murmured. "You didn't send them away."
"I didn't want them," I said sharply. "Not a single one."
"Then why-"
"Because I needed something to hate," I said. "And hating myself wasn't working fast enough."
Her eyes softened in a way that made my chest tighten painfully.
"I wasn't trying to replace you," I whispered. "I was trying to forget you."
She breathed in sharply, like the truth hit her harder than the kiss we almost shared.
"You can't forget me," she said quietly.
I didn't smile. I didn't joke.
I just looked at her.
"Melody," I said, and her name felt like gravel in my throat. "I couldn't forget you if I tried for the rest of my life."
Her lips parted slightly, and she looked away like the words were too much.
I moved a bit closer slow, controlled just enough for her shoulder to brush mine.
No rush. No pressure. Just presence.
"I knew where you were every night," I confessed.
Her head snapped up. "Marvis-"
"I didn't follow you," I said. "I made sure someone kept an eye on you. Discreetly."
"Why?"
"Because you sleep in a car," I said. "Because you walk alone at night. Because you make enemies without blinking. Because you act like you're invincible when you're not."
She looked down, that familiar pride tightening her jaw.
"I don't need-"
"You don't need help," I finished for her. "I know. But I needed to know you were alive."
She shut her eyes for a moment.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered.
"Because you weren't ready to hear it."
"Maybe I was."
"No," I said. "You were running. From me. From what you felt. From what I made you feel."
She didn't deny it. Her silence was the answer.
I leaned my head back against the couch, letting the quiet settle around us. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't tense. It was… heavy. Familiar. Real.
"Melody," I said after a moment, "I'm not asking for anything from you."
Her breath hitched slightly.
"I'm not asking you to stay," I continued. "I'm not asking you to choose me. I'm not asking for forgiveness for anything I've done."
Her fingers tightened around my sleeve.
"All I'm asking," I said, "is that you stop pretending you feel nothing."
The words hung in the air between us, thick and sharp.
She didn't speak. Not right away.
Instead, she pulled back just enough to look me directly in the eyes.
And everything on her face the uncertainty, the fear, the want hit me like a blow.
"I don't know how to do this," she whispered.
"I do," I said.
"Then what?"
"We take it slow."
"How slow?"
"As slow as you want."
She swallowed, her throat bobbing. Her stare didn't waver.
"And if I run again?"
"I'll be here when you stop."
Her breath shuddered, and I saw the exact moment her walls cracked just a little, but enough.
"Marvis…" she said softly.
"Yes?"
"I didn't come here to fight."
"I know."
"I didn't come here to start something either."
"I know."
"I came because I didn't want to feel alone."
"Then stay," I said simply.
She didn't answer with words.
She leaned into me again slowly, cautiously but this time with intention.
Her forehead rested lightly against my shoulder, and her fingers relaxed against my arm.
And that was it.
Not a kiss. Not a confession. Not a promise.
Just closeness.
And for us, that was more intimate than anything else.
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the reality of her settle in.
Melody Quinn. The girl who hated needing anyone. The girl who fought the world with her bare hands. The girl who walked into my life like a storm and refused to leave the same way.
She was here. With me.
Not because she had to. Not because I demanded it. Because she chose to.
I let my voice drop to a whisper, almost too low to hear.
"You don't have to be strong with me."
Her breath caught.
"You don't have to pretend," I continued. "Not here. Not with me."
She didn't lift her head, but her voice came out soft and shaky.
"Then don't hurt me."
"I won't," I said. "Not again."
And I meant it.
Because for the first time in a long time… the world outside the penthouse didn't matter. The enemies didn't matter. The revenge didn't matter.
The secrets didn't matter.
Only her breathing against my shoulder. Only her hand resting on my arm.
Only the way the room felt warmer with her inside it.
She wasn't mine. Not yet.
But she was here. And that was enough. For now.