My throat tightens. “Yeah. Okay.”
He crosses to the fireplace mantle and grabs the remote starter he left there earlier.
He looks at me, his thumb hovering over the button. “This is it. Our last shot with the fuel we have.”
He presses it.
For a second, nothing happens.
Then I hear it. A distant rumble from outside. The generator catching, coughing to life in its damaged shed.
Thank god.
Gregory’s shoulders visibly relax. He sets the remote back on the mantle, then moves to the closest light switch.
Flicks it.
The overhead lights come to life. Their glow is almost imperceptible against the brilliant sunlight streaming in through the windows, but there’s a subtle shift in brightness.
Electricity.
Such a normal thing.
And yet also such a miracle after so much time without it.
Gregory flicks the lights off again and heads straight for his laptop.
He boots it up. “The moment of truth...”
I hover nearby, trying not to feel like I’m intruding on something important. Which is ridiculous. This affects both of us.
But watching him lean over the laptop, jaw tight with concentration, I’m suddenly reminded that he’s Gregory Falk, billionaire CEO, not justGregory, the guy who learned to press coffee and fixed a generator with my help and made me cum so hard I forgot my own name.
Focus, Sorrel.
“There.” Relief fills his voice. “Connection’s strong. Finally.”
He pulls up a Mountain Rescue website, fills out the emergency form with quick, efficient keystrokes. Location. Situation. Two people safe but stranded.
Then he types something else and I lean closer to see.
Rescue reward: $100,000 for immediate pickup.
My eyebrows shoot up. “You’re bribing Mountain Rescue?”
“I’m incentivizing speed,” he says without looking up. “There’s a difference.”
“That’s literally the definition of a bribe, Gregory.”
“Then consider it a bribe.” He hits submit. “I don’t care what we call it as long as it gets us out of here.”
The words sting more than they should.
Gets us out of here.
Like he can’t wait to leave.
Like the past few days meant nothing.
