The lobby was nearly empty when I walked in. And there she was, standing near the reception desk, a medium suitcase at her side, her phone pressed to her ear. Her expression shifted from frustrated to defeated as she spoke.
“I understand the ticket is still valid for the scheduled date, but I need to know if it’s possible to move it up… Yes, I know the rescheduling fee is high. No, I can’t cover that right now… Fine. I’ll keep the original booking then.”
She hung up, clearly irritated, running a hand over her face in exhaustion.
When she turned, it happened so quickly neither of us had time to avoid it. We collided, her shoulder bumping against my chest.
“Sorry, I-” She looked up, her eyes widening when she recognized me. “Christian? What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how you were.” I kept my tone casual, despite the obvious tension between us. “I couldn’t help overhearing your call. Trouble with your flight?”
She sighed again, the frustration still evident.
“Nothing major. I was trying to move up my flight, but the fee is basically the price of a new ticket.” She glanced around, uneasy. “And apparently, I’ll have to find somewhere else to stay until Saturday. Sunvale canceled my reservation the moment I resigned.”
“Can I help in any way?”
She gave me a look that was part incredulity, part wounded pride.
“Unless you know of a really cheap hotel around here, I don’t think so.”
I hesitated, weighing what I was about to suggest. It was probably a bad idea. Definitely complicated. But the thought of Zoey with nowhere to go-especially after she’d been honest with me about the sabotage-was unbearable.
“You can stay at the mansion.”
I stared at Christian, trying to process what he had just said. Go back to the mansion? The place where we’d pretended to be a couple. Where we’d grown so close. Where I’d almost fallen for him for real.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I finally replied.
“Probably not,” he agreed, which surprised me. “But it’s practical. And you don’t have many options right now.”
I pressed my lips together, glancing at my lone suitcase. He was right, of course. Highridge Valley was in peak season. Even the simplest hotels were either full or charging outrageous rates.
“There are no hidden intentions here, Zoey,” Christian added, his voice softer. “It’s just a place to stay until your flight. A place you already know.”
I bit my lower lip, torn. The offer was tempting in its simplicity. A place to stay. No complications. No expectations.
“Alright,” I decided at last. “But I’m still going to try to reschedule my flight.”
Christian picked up my suitcase before I could protest and headed for the door, his decisive footsteps echoing across the quiet hotel lobby. I followed at a safe distance, trying not to notice how perfectly the suit fit across his broad shoulders.
Outside, the night air was cold-typical of Highridge Valley. I shivered slightly in my thin blazer, designed more for appearance than for the region’s weather. Christian seemed to notice but said nothing. He simply opened the trunk of his car-not the Porsche this time, but a sleek SUV-and placed my luggage inside with care.
The drive to the winery was silent. I watched the night landscape roll by through the window, the lights of small towns appearing now and then between the dark hills. The last time we’d made this drive together, everything had been different. Back then, we’d been practically strangers bound by a business arrangement. Now we were… what, exactly?
When the car began to climb the private road to the estate, my chest tightened. The vineyards stretched out on either side, bathed only in moonlight and the distant glow of the mansion that came into view on the horizon.
“Does Carmen know I’m coming?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“She’s not here right now.” Christian kept his eyes on the road. “She went to visit her daughter, who just had a baby. The house is on reduced staff, just a few maids and the kitchen crew.”
More silence. When we finally parked in front of the mansion, everything felt strangely familiar and yet completely different. The same stone steps, the same towering doors, the same immaculate gardens. But all under a different light. No longer the backdrop of our charade. Just a house I had been invited into out of necessity.
“I’ll show you to your guest room,” Christian said as we stepped inside,
The mansion was quiet at this hour. We walked through the main hallway, up the marble staircase, and down a different corridor than the one leading to the master suite where we had stayed before.
The guest room was spacious and elegant, decorated in shades of gold and beige, with a large window overlooking the vineyards-though the view was hidden in the night.
“The bathroom’s over there.” Christian gestured toward an adjacent door. “There are clean towels and basic toiletries on the counter.”
“Thank you.” I lingered near the doorway, unsure of what to do. “It’s… kind of you.”
He set my suitcase down by the bed.
“I imagine you’re hungry.” It wasn’t a question, though there was an almost timid note in his voice. “I can have the kitchen prepare something light.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
We stood there, the silence heavy between us. There were so many things unsaid, so many questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t know where to begin.
“I’ll let you get settled, then,” he said, moving toward the door.
“Christian,” I called before he could leave. “Can we… talk a little?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
“I’ll order dinner and come back in a few minutes.”
When he left, I let myself take a deep breath. What was I doing? Why had I asked to talk? Wouldn’t it be easier- safer to keep my distance? To let this night pass and tomorrow find a way back home without further complications?
–
But there was one question hammering in my mind ever since my father told me about Christian’s visit. A question that needed an answer.
I slipped off my blazer and shoes, quickly brushed my hair, and washed my face, trying to erase the traces of a stressful day. When Christian knocked twenty minutes later, I was calmer.
“I thought we could eat on the balcony at the end of the hall,” he suggested. “The night view of the vineyards is… beautiful.”
I nodded, following him to a small balcony. A table had been set with a light meal-cheeses, fruit, bread, and a bottle of wine left open to breathe.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want wine after everything,” he said as he pulled out a chair for me.
“Honestly? I need a glass.”
He smiled-a genuine smile that lit up his eyes-and poured for both of us. For a few minutes, we ate in silence, the sound of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze filling the space between us.
“How’s your grandfather?” I finally asked.
Christian looked up from his glass, slightly surprised by the question.
“He’s well. In Valentia,’handling some business with old partners.”
“When did he leave?”
“Shortly after you…” He paused, as if choosing his words. “After you left.”
I took a sip of wine, savoring the complex flavor for a moment. It was one of Kensington’s, probably one Christian himself had worked on. I set my glass down and looked directly at him.
“How did he take the breakup?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.