I search his face for any sign of deception but find only exhaustion that mirrors my own. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He gestures to the steaming bath. “One hour where we stop being who we are out there.”
The offer dangles between us like a lifeline. Every instinct screams that this is another trap, another layer of his manipulation. But God, I’m tired. Tired of fighting, of second-guessing, of carrying the weight of everything alone.
“Okay,” I whisper, the word feeling like surrender and relief at once. “Truce.”
Something in his shoulders relaxes, and he reaches for my hand. I let him take it, watching as his thumb traces circles on my palm. The simple touch anchors me and draws me back from the edge I’ve been teetering on.
“One hour,” he confirms softly. “Just us.”
I watch Remy stand, his muscles shifting beneath tanned skin as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants. Before I can ogle him, he turns his back on me. The fabric pools at his feet, and he steps into the tub with practiced grace. At least I can admire his perfect ass. Once immersed and settled, he sighs. My breath catches as his eyes find mine, holding out his hand in silent invitation.
“Come here,” he says, his voice impossibly soft.
I hesitate, fingers curling into the hem of his borrowed shirt. The steam rises between us, carrying the scent of lavender and something deeper—his cologne, maybe, or just him. My walls should be up. I should be analyzing every angle and everypossible consequence. Instead, I find myself reaching for the buttons.
The shirt joins his pants on the marble floor. His hand remains steady, waiting, and I take it. His palm is rough against mine as he guides me into the water. Before I can overthink it, he pulls me back against his chest, arranging me between his thighs.
“Breathe,” he murmurs against my ear.
The water embraces us, hot enough to pink my skin. His chest rises and falls against my back, and I find myself matching his rhythm without meaning to. His arms loop loosely around my waist, secure but not confining.
“This is strange,” I whisper, watching droplets slide down my knees where they break the surface.
“What is?”
“You. Being gentle.” I trace patterns in the water with my fingertips. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
His chest rumbles with quiet laughter. “I’m capable of gentleness, Eve.”
“Are you?” I turn my head slightly, catching his profile. “The Remy Harding I know deals in leverage and control.”
“Maybe you don’t know all of me.” His fingers trail along my arm, raising goosebumps despite the heat. “Maybe that’s the point of this truce.”
I sink deeper into the water, into him. “An hour without masks?”
“Mm.” His lips brush my temple. “Terrifying, isn’t it?”
“Completely.” But I’m melting against him, my body betraying how much I need this moment of peace. “I didn’t expect…”
“What?”
“To feel safe with you.” The admission costs me, but we promised honesty. “Even knowing what you are, what you do. What you could do to me.”
His arms tighten fractionally. “I won’t hurt you, Eve.”
“No?” I close my eyes. “You could destroy me without laying a finger on me. We both know that.”
“Yes,” he agrees simply. “Just as you could me.”
The honesty in his voice makes me shiver. His hand spreads across my stomach, steadying me, grounding me in this moment where pretenses fall away.
I let out a sharp laugh, the sound echoing off marble walls. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” His fingers traced idle patterns on my stomach.
“I couldn’t destroy you, Remy.” I kept my gaze fixed on the steam rising from the water. “You’ve built your empire on secrets and leverage. One journalist is hardly a threat to the great Remy Harding.”
