“So you started baking to treat yourself?” Liam asks, watching me over the rim of his mug.
“Pretty much," I shrug. "But now it’s more like my version of meditation. You follow the steps, respect the ingredients, and you get something good at the end. Croissants don’t argue with you, don’t ‘misread’ a clause, and definitely don’t try to sneak in changes on page forty-seven of a contract.”
Felix’s mouth curves. “For what it’s worth, I do feel very lucky I got to enjoy the fruits of your…” he lifts his hands to make air quotes, “meditation.That was seriously good.”
It’s ridiculous how warm that makes my chest feel.
“We should probably keep some for breakfast, though,” I say, smiling. I reach for the nearest plate. “And I should clean up. I hate waking up to a mountain of dishes.”
“Nope.” Felix intercepts the plate, his fingers brushing mine. “You bake, we clean.”
Liam is already at the sink, turning on the water. Silas rinses his own mug, then sets it in the basin.
"Just so we're clear," Silas starts, "you're not getting away with midnight raids on the pantry regularly."
Despite his best attempt at a deadpan delivery, I can hear a hint of a smile in his voice.
Chapter thirteen
Naomi
Warm.
That's my first thought as consciousness filters through the haze of sleep.
I yawn, roll onto my back, and reach for my phone on the nightstand. 8:04 a.m. Good thing I managed to fall back asleep after my baking session…
Hold on, what the—I blink.
There's one flickering bar of signal.
“Oh my god.” I mash Mia’s contact before I lose it. The call connects on the second ring.
“Naomi!” Her voice explodes through the speaker, high and frantic. “Oh my god, are you okay? I’ve been trying to call, but I keep ending up on your voicemail. The storm’s all over the news, they’re calling it a snowpocalypse. I called emergency services, the sheriff’s office, tried to book this insane private helicopter-rescue-thing, no one can get up there. The roads are closed, snowmobiles grounded, visibility absolute garbage—” She breaks off to take a breath. “Sorry, I’m rambling. How are you holding up?”
A lump forms in my throat at the sound of her. “It’s really good to hear you,” I say, sinking back against the headboard. “I’m okay, Mia. I’m perfectly safe. The chalet is secure, and we have food. At least for now.”
“For now?” Her voice jumps. “What do you meanfor now? Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”
“Honestly? Yeah. We did a full inventory. There’s enough to last at least four more days. So for now we’re just… waiting it out.” I rub my face. “But listen, how are things with your franchise? I got some emails through yesterday. Did someone reach out to you?”
“Forget the franchise,” she blurts. “How are the alphas treating you?”
“They’re being good, really. Cohabitation is getting more and more… harmonious.” I let out a small huff of a laugh and clear my throat. “Not that I’m not looking forward to leaving, obviously.”
“Obviously,” she echoes, but I hear the smile.
“Anyway,” I push on. “If any lawyers contact you, K.G. Holdings or anyone else, ignore them until I can reach them directly. Don’t sign anything, don’t answer anything. I’ll handle it the second I’m back. I have to—”
Static rips through the line.
“Mia?” I sit up straighter. “Mia, can you still—”
The call drops.
No Service. Bar gone.
“Goddammit.” I stare at the dead screen. Of course. The universe dangles a tiny bar of hope in front of my face and then goesjust kidding.
