Chapter 9 - The Choice on the Tarmac
At 2:30 PM, a sleek black sedan pulled up to the private terminal at Washington Dulles International Airport.
Caleb Ward opened the rear door. Harper stepped out onto the windy tarmac, wearing her beige trench coat—the same coat she had worn the day she met Vincent in the elevator. She looked pale, exhausted, her brown eyes dull with heartbreak.
A sleek Gulfstream private jet sat on the tarmac, its engines idling softly, waiting to take her across the Atlantic.
Caleb picked up her luggage, his large face heavy with sadness. "Miss Davis... the pilot is ready. Your papers are all in order."
Harper looked back toward the open highway. There was no sign of Vincent. He hadn't even come to say goodbye. He had locked himself in his study, refusing to watch her leave.
"He's a fool, you know," Harper said softly, her voice catching in her throat.
Caleb sighed softly. "Mr. Rourke has spent thirty-five years learning how to destroy things, Miss Davis. He never learned how to hold onto something precious. He thinks he's saving you."
"He's destroying himself," Harper whispered.
She turned toward the airstairs leading up to the plane's open hatch. Step by step, she climbed, feeling as though she were walking toward a golden prison cell. She reached the top platform, turning back one last time to look at the grey Virginia skyline.
Suddenly, a loud screech of tires echoed across the tarmac.
A black SUV breached the security gate, speeding across the concrete runway at breakneck speed, coming to a sudden, violent stop right next to the Gulfstream.
The driver's side door flew open.
Vincent Rourke stepped out.
He wasn't wearing his suit jacket or his tactical armor. He wore only a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, his dark hair messy, his face pale and desperate.
Harper stopped at the top of the stairs, her heart executing a violent vault in her chest.
Vincent walked to the base of the airstairs, looking up at her. The mighty mafia boss, the feared ruler of the Baltimore waterfront, looked completely defenseless, standing alone under the vast autumn sky.
"Vincent?" she gasped.
"I tried," Vincent called out, his deep voice carrying over the roar of the jet engines, raw with emotion. "I sat in my office for two hours trying to let you go. I told myself it was the right thing to do. I told myself I was protecting you."
He took three fast steps up the stairs.
"And then I realized... I was dying," Vincent confessed, tears shining in his gray eyes. "Without you, my life isn't safe or clean—it's just empty. I don't want a world without you in it, Harper."
Harper’s hands began to shake as she walked down three steps toward him. "Vincent... what about the danger?"
"I will tear down every enemy I have," Vincent swore passionately, reaching out his hands to her. "I will legitimize every business I own. I will build an impenetrable wall around you, and I will spend every single day of my life earning your forgiveness for letting you walk away today. Just... please don't leave me."
Harper looked at his outstretched hands, then down at the dark, lonely plane behind her.
She didn't hesitate.
She ran down the rest of the stairs and threw herself into his arms.
Vincent caught her, spinning her around on the tarmac, holding her so tightly he nearly lifted her off the ground. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her vanilla scent, weeping tears of pure relief as he held his world in his arms.
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"I'm not going anywhere, Corporate Overlord," Harper laughed through her tears, kissing his cheek, his forehead, his lips. "I'm staying right here with you."
Caleb, standing near the SUV, quietly reached into his suit jacket, pulled out his phone, and canceled the flight plan to France with a small, rare smile on his face.
