Intentional.
Unfinished.
I stretched, my legs tangling in the lavender-scented sheets.The comfort of morning was deceptive, offering a fragile illusion of normalcy.
Normal had never survived Creed.
I slid out of bed, bare feet sinking into the plush rug, and pulled the oversized T-shirt over my head.It fell loose around my body, familiar now.As I crossed toward the window, I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to quiet the restless energy humming beneath my skin.
The glass was cool under my fingertips as I pulled the curtain aside.
And the view stole my breath.
The manicured gardens had surrendered to November’s slow decay, greens giving way to rust and amber, frost clinging stubbornly to the edges of dying blooms.Morning mist curled low along the hedges, softening everything it touched.
Beyond them stood the stable.
And in the paddock—
Creed.
He sat astride a massive dark horse, its onyx coat gleaming in the early light.Even at a distance, his presence commanded the space around him.
Nothing here bent unless he allowed it.
His broad shoulders filled the riding jacket he wore, his posture effortless, reins loose in his hands but never slack.The horse responded to him without visible cue, slight shifts of weight, murmured sounds I couldn’t hear.
Trust.
Earned.
Maintained.
I watched pulse quickening, as he guided the horse through a slow, deliberate pattern.No rush.No wasted motion.
Here, away from glass towers and boardrooms, Creed looked elemental.Stripped of polish.Rooted in something older.
Untamed.
His hair hung loose around his shoulders, stirred by the wind, framing his face in stark contrast to the rigid control in his body.He looked like a man who belonged to land and consequence, not just negotiation.
And I had stepped back into his world, knowing exactly what that meant.
The horse picked up speed, hooves striking frozen earth, frost scattering as Creed leaned forward and murmured something low.The animal obeyed instantly.
The sight tightened something in my chest.
Not fear.
Recognition.
As if sensing my attention, Creed slowed the horse.His gaze lifted, scanning the grounds.For one suspended second, I wondered if he felt me watching.
A sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.
I jumped.
“Good morning, ma’am.”Ennis’s voice was smooth, respectful.“Breakfast will be served shortly.Mr.Kirkland requests your presence.”
