“Damn, Weister. When you said ‘favor,’ I didn’t think ‘kidnap a woman.’”
“I’m not kidnapping her,” I say, my tone flat. “She’s family.”
Mercer glances at Isabel, then back at me. He sobers instantly. “Copy that. Your flight plan’s filed under weather surveillance. No one’s asking questions.”
I help Isabel up the ramp, shielding her from the wind with my body. She doesn’t say much, but her hand grips mine tight.
Once we’re buckled in, the helicopter lifts. She turns her head toward the window, watching the estate fade beneath us like a bad dream. Her breathing is shaky. Erratic.
I gently rest a hand on her back and take a deep breath myself. Fuck! This is not how I pictured our date.
The helicopter touches down with a soft thud in a snow-covered clearing behind the chalet. I can already feel the cold creeping in, but it’s nothing compared to the storm I’m trying to leave behind.
As the rotor blades slow to a stop, I look over at Isabel. She’s still staring out the window, but I see the tiniest tremor run through her.
“Hey.” I slide my hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You good?”
She takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting mine. For a second, the icy mask she wears falters, and I see the raw vulnerability underneath. The kind of hurt I’d like to burn down if I could.
“I’m fine,” she says, but it’s more a statement of survival than reassurance.
“Let’s get you inside, yeah?” I stand first, helping her out of the seat. She’s stiff, tentative, like she’s not entirely sure she can trust her own feet right now.
We step out of the chopper, and the wind is sharp, biting, but it’s the kind of cold that feels different when you’re running from something. It’s the kind of cold that reminds you there’s something real beyond the chaos.
I don’t waste any time—leading her up to the front of the chalet. The building is simple but well-kept, an old family place that’s seen better days, but I’ve always liked the isolation it offers. And tonight, isolation feels like a gift.
Inside, the warmth greets us like a soft wave. We are not prepared for this weather and I fucked up. Shit! It’s quiet here, no servants, no distant relatives to worry about. Just us. The place is kinda clean which means the housekeeper is still doing her job.
Isabel is standing by the door, still scanning the room like it’s going to eat her. I try not to crowd her. She needs space, even if it’s just for a moment.
“I’ll get the fire going.” I move to the hearth. I start preparing the logs, lighting the match and watching the flames begin to flicker. The orange glow fills the room with a sense of life, something warm to hold onto. I don’t think she’s ready for anything deeper yet, so I don’t push it.
When the fire is crackling, I turn to her. She’s standing near the window, her arms crossed, staring outside.
“Want something to drink?” I offer. “Whiskey? Tea?”
She shakes her head slowly, then glances at me, her eyes soft with confusion and exhaustion. “I never thought I’d end up here.”
“Yeah, well. It’s the first place that came to my mind.”
That gets her to smile, just a little. It’s small, but it’s there, and that’s enough for me. I walk over, standing beside her by the window.
The snow outside is falling in slow, deliberate flakes. The world is still.
“I’m sorry,” I say, breaking the silence between us.
“What for?” She raises her beautiful eyes to look at me.
I wipe her tears, losing myself in that beautiful sea. “For these.”
She closes her eyes and breathes in.
“Shall we go for a take out?” Her stomach grumbles, “We better see what we could order up here.”
She shrugs, and steps closer to hug me. Wrapping my arms around her, I kiss the top of her head. It feels damn good. Shipping her off her feet, I pick her up and get on the couch near the fire. She’s freezing but says nothing, just clings to me. I let her, while taking the cell phone out and scrolling to see what I can order for dinner. Not that we have plenty of options but pizza.
There’s still a heaviness between us, but there’s something quieter now. Something more certain. After a dinner she barely touched, the weight of the past hour is still hanging around us, but I can feel her starting to let go, piece by piece.
