LikeImeant nothing.
I know that’s not fair. I know he’s worried about me. About my safety. About my parents freaking out.
But still.
It hurts.
While we wait for a response, he’s already pulling up the desktop version of WhatsApp on his laptop, and initiates a video call.
The name at the top says Marcel.
The screen connects and a man’s face appears. Older, distinguished-looking, with an expression of pure relief that would be touching if I wasn’t so busy having an internal crisis about my place in Gregory’s actual life.
“Sir!” Marcel’s voice is thick with emotion. “Thank god! We’ve been trying to reach you for days. I flew back to the States from the Bahamas yesterday as soon as the weather cleared, hoping--”
“Glad you made it back safely,” Gregory cuts him off, slipping into business mode. “You’re getting a bonus for cutting your vacation short. But listen, I’m trapped at the chalet. Snowed in. I’ve just submitted an emergency extraction request to Mountain Rescue. Should hear back within the hour. I need you to coordinate with them to get us out of here.”
Marcel nods rapidly. “Absolutely. I’ll fly into Aspen immediately. What’s your current status? Any other staff on site?”
Gregory’s jaw tightens. “No staff. Only one other person here. We’re both uninjured. Stranded since the blizzard. Communications just came back online.”
One other person.
Geez.
Why does it hurt so much when he puts it that way?
They talk a bit more. Logistics about supplies, emergency protocols, things that make my head spin because apparently even rescue missions require spreadsheets and contingency plans when you’re a billionaire.
And that’s when it hits me.
This is who he really is.
Not the guy who learned to make coffee. Not the guy who held me in front of the fireplace. Not the guy who worshipped my body like I was something precious.
This guy. This Gregory Falk. The one who commands and expects obedience.
Who throws money at problems.
Who compartmentalizes emotions like they’re just another task to be managed.
I don’t belong in this world.
The thought comes unbidden and unwelcome but I can’t shake it.
The connection starts getting choppy and Gregory’s expression tightens.
Through the static, I can see Marcel’s mouth moving but the audio cuts in and out.
“--arrival time--coordinate with--emergency--”
The call drops entirely.
Gregory stares at the blank screen for a moment, then closes WhatsApp and refreshes his email inbox.
“Now we just have to wait for Mountain Rescue to get back to us,” he says without looking at me. “And if they don’t, Marcel will coordinate with them.”
More messages are downloading now. He turns on his phone, and it immediately connects to the starlink WiFi. It buzzes.
