Adventure.Sure. Let's call it that.
"Yeah," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Not exactly a relaxing evening."
She laughed—soft, genuine—and it hit me square in the chest. I should've been relieved the storm had passed. Instead, all I could think about was how close we'd been in that bathroom. How easily she'd let me in. How thoroughly I was falling for her, whether I was ready for it or not.
"Definitely one for the books," I said. "Thanks for making it memorable."
"Anytime." Her grin turned playful. "Just maybe no more touch screens."
"Deal."
I walked her to her bedroom door, hyperaware of the silence, of how little space there was between us.
"Goodnight, Anna," I said quietly.
She smiled, one hand on the doorknob. "Night, Jacques."
There was a beat. Just long enough for me to wonder if she'd say something else, if I should say something else.
But then she slipped inside, and the door clicked shut.
I stood there like an idiot for a second before heading to my own room. I closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling hard.
I wasn't thinking about call sheets or upcoming press tours. I wasn't performing for anyone.
Instead, I was replaying her laughter, the way her eyes lit up even in the middle of a tornado scare. It struck me that, despite the absurdity of the night, I felt more alive than I had in months. Maybe longer.
I changed into dry clothes. The room’s luxurious bedding called to me. As I sank into the mattress, my thoughts drifted to Anna’s wit, her resilience, and her ability to turn even the most mundane moment into something memorable. I wondered if she felt the same calm I did now, finally safe and dry after the storm.
The faint hum of the generator lulled me to sleep. My dreams weren’t filled with lines to memorize or paparazzi flashing in my face. Instead, they were scattered with laughter, storm-lit skies, and Anna’s sweet voice.
I woke the next morning to a pounding at the door.
The housekeeper’s voice trembled with urgency. “Mr. Luke, Mr. Luke,” she yelled. “There’s been an accident. Where is Ms. Amato?”
27
ANNA
I shot out of bed,my heart pounding as I stumbled into the hallway. “What accident? What happened?”
Last night had been wonderful. Knowing that Luke was in the room next to mine made it hard to fall asleep. Every sound, every creak of the house, seemed charged with an energy I couldn’t ignore. I couldn’t stop replaying the evening in my mind, the laughter we shared, the moments when the tension between us felt almost tangible. Excitement buzzed under my skin, keeping sleep just out of reach.
When I finally drifted off, it felt like minutes before I was jolted awake by the housekeeper Joan’s voice, trembling with urgency.
She was standing in the hall with three men I’d never seen before. Her face filled with relief as she spotted me. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you stayed here last night. A tree destroyed the cottage. If you’d been there, you could’ve been killed.”
Her words hit me like a brick. Without thinking, I bolted past her, my feet barely touching the stairs as I flew down them. When I reached the front door, I froze. The massive limb of a neighboring oak had crushed the roof of the cottage.
Luke was close behind me. Our eyes met, and a shared realization passed between us. Madame Aphrodite’s eerie warning about a falling tree echoed in my mind, her words now hauntingly prophetic.
Before I could act, Luke’s hands gripped my shoulders, stopping my instinctive dash toward the wreckage. “All my stuff,” I blurted, my heart racing. Across the driveway, drenched clothes, books, and personal journals lay scattered and ruined, their sodden forms tiny casualties of the storm.
Thankfully, my laptop was safe in the mansion.
“My sons got here as soon as I called them about the tree,” Joan said, her voice tinged with pride as she motioned to the three guys behind her. They huddled together, arguing over the best way to use a rusty old saw they’d dug out of someone’s garage. It didn’t take a professional eye to see that this trio wasn’t exactly licensed. Just a family doing their best to help out in a pinch.
One of her sons wiped his brow. “We moved out what we could save, but don’t go in yet. The bedroom took the worst hit. There was a lot of paper in there.”
