A whiff of vanilla and sandalwood reached him. Emma's scent.
She glanced at him, candlelight sparkling in her dark eyes. “Do you ever just… enjoy the storms? Or is everything always a threat assessment?”
“Both,” Zach said again.
She laughed. “At least you’re consistent.”
They sat in silence as the storm raged. The cottage creaked around them; the wind testing the structure, rain pounding relentlessly. Inside, the candlelight held steady.
She watched the storm like it were something beautiful.
Zach watched Emma.
Her shoulders lost their tension, her breathing grew deep and even, expression peaceful as lightning danced across the horizon. She looked… content.
She trusted him.
He’d spent eight years in the Army learning how to be a weapon. Years after that deploying those skills for money, for mission objectives, for strategic outcomes. He built Ivory Tower’s security infrastructure on threat assessment andtactical precision. People looked at him and saw a guard dog. A necessary deterrent. Something useful, but dangerous. Potentially rabid.
Emma looked at him and saw… something else. Something he wasn’t sure he deserved.
“What are you thinking?” She asked softly.
Zach refocused on her face. “That you should be more afraid.”
“Of you?”
“Of the situation.”
Emma considered that. “I’m concerned about the situation. That’s different from being afraid.” She shifted to face him better. “I’m not afraid of you because you haven’t given me a reason to be. You’ve been nothing but professional and honest. Those aren’t qualities that inspire fear.”
“Most people find me intimidating.”
“I’m not most people.”
No, she definitely wasn’t.
Lightning flashed again, illuminating Emma’s face in stark clarity. A compass rose tattoo on her shoulder peeked out from her shirt's stretched neckline. Another flash revealed the cool intelligence in her expression, the relaxed way she occupied space near him without flinching.
“Thank you,” Emma said quietly. “For taking this seriously. The security concern, I mean. I still think it’s excessive, me staying here, but…”
“It’s not excessive.”
“No?”
“If someone is targeting the resort, excessive doesn’t exist.” Zach kept his gaze on the storm. “You’re part of the leadership team. That makes you a potential target. I don’t take chances with targets.”
“That’s… reassuring. In a very Zach way.”
The corner of his mouth twitched again. Almost a smile. Not quite.
They sat together, neither speaking, both watching darkness and lightning compete beyond the glass. The silence between them had weight now, substance. It wasn’t empty or awkward. It was… shared.
Comfortable.
Something Zach had never experienced with anyone other than his family. Not even his unit brothers.
“You should sleep,” he said eventually. “Tomorrow starts early. Training at 0600.”
