“Sophie—”
“Now,” I said. “Assure him he’s safe. Tell him no one is touching him, his hospital, or his family. Make it clear.”
The air between us felt charged, metallic. I could smell his cologne, familiar and grounding and suddenly unbearable. What if he only thought of me as his fuck buddy? I mentally slapped myself at how skewed my priorities had become.
“You’re asking me to undermine myself,” he said quietly.
“I’m asking you to be fair,” I said. “I’m asking you not to turn me into someone who looks away.”
Admittedly, it might be too late for that after I’d seen the man in his cellar.
His gaze searched my face, and after a long moment, he exhaled sharply and pulled out his own phone.
He turned away and dialed, lifting the phone to his ear.
“Yes,” he said when the call connected, his voice smooth and controlled. “It’s Kian. I’ve spoken with Sophie and she has assured me you have your patient’s best interest at heart and it was a mutual decision. You, your family, and your hospital are safe.”
I closed my eyes, listening to the conversation as Kian further reassured the man.
When he hung up, our eyes locked, and suddenly I felt silly, tired, and confused. About him, this boyfriend and dating assumption, and everything else.
“Umm…” I pushed my hand through my hair nervously as I headed for the exit. “I need… some time alone. I’m going for a walk.”
Chapter 38
Sophie
The sound of the water gently lapping against the shore had been almost soothing as I followed the edge of the cliffs that framed Kian’s vast property.
Each step crunched softly over pale stone and sand, the breeze brushing against my skin like a cool hand. Everywhere I looked, the world shimmered in shades of blue—crystal clear water stretching endlessly into the horizon, the sky reflecting itself back in perfect, blinding brilliance. The air was thick with lavender, citrus, and the faint, earthy tang of oil and salt.
Now that the earlier issues were settled, I felt somewhat stupid, if I was being honest.
The look of surprise on Kian’s face when I called him my boyfriend replayed itself over and over in my mind. His expression shifted instantly and I didn’t know what to think of it. Maybe things worked differently for him, but casual sex had never been something I slipped into without thought. I didn’t know how to be careless with my heart.
The truth settled heavier with every step: we had never actually talked about what we were. It had simply happened. One night bledinto another, shared meals turned into routines, routines into something that felt like permanence.
As I walked on, I realized my feet were carrying me toward the beach. Toward one of the very first places we’d met.
I glanced around me, taking it all in, when I saw Kian down on his private sandy beach.
He sat on a lounge chair, his gaze unwavering, as if he had been watching me long before I noticed him. My legs betrayed me, angling instinctively in his direction even as my chest tightened.
I needed answers. Because if this man—this man who knew the way I took my coffee, who traced lazy circles on my back as I drifted to sleep, who listened as I rambled about my day—thought I was nothing more than a convenient body, I would have to leave. I would have to walk away from this place, from him, no matter how much it tore at me.
And itwouldtear at me.
Nobody had ever made me feel like him. I had grown used to him in ways I hadn’t realized until now. Talking late into the night. Falling asleep with his arms wrapped securely around me, his warmth grounding me. He felt like a part of me.
I kicked off my shoes at the end of the path and let my bare feet sink into the soft, sun-warmed sand. It cradled me, grains slipping between my toes as the waves whispered their steady hush, rising and falling in time with my heartbeat while my yellow sundress clung to my body.
Kian’s gaze hooked me like an invisible tether, drawing me closer with every step.
I came to a stop directly in front of his lounge chair, the space between us charged.
He’d changed into fresh clothes, white Bermuda shorts that sat low on his hips and a black shirt that clung unapologetically to the hard lines of his chest and arms.
Stay strong, I told myself.
