Author's Preface
[ Cont.]
[Annie]
The morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of the suite is soft and golden, a stark contrast to the torrential downpour of the night before.
I blink against the quiet warmth of the room, my head throbbing with a dull, heavy ache.
I sit up slowly, pulling the crisp white duvet around my chest.
My mind is a tangled haze of fragmented memories—the glaring neon lights of the convenience store, the bitter cold of the rain, the steady purr of Kai’s car engine, and…
My breath stalls.
The kiss.
Did I actually step into Kai's space, wrap his hands around my waist, and drag him down to me?
Or was that just an intensely vivid, feverish hallucination brought on by a can and a half of beer, pure exhaustion, and the overwhelming relief of seeing him?
My face burns at the thought.
There is no way I actually did that.
I wouldn't have been that reckless.
It had to be a dream.
It must have been a dream.
The quiet click of the suite door opening cuts through my spiral.
Kai walks in holding a tray with a glass of water, a small foil pack of pain relievers, and a hot cup of tea.
He’s dressed in a fresh navy blue sweater and black trousers, looking completely put-together and unfazed.
He sets the tray on the nightstand beside the bed, stepping back instantly to give me space.
He doesn't hover or lean down.
He simply pulls his hands into his pockets.
"You're awake," he says, his voice quiet. "Take those. It’ll help with the headache."
I stare up at him, searching his face for any sign of awkwardness, tension, or lingering shock.
His expression is completely guarded and serene—just the same steady, grounded Kai as always.
See? I tell myself, swallowing hard.
It was definitely a dream.
If I had actually stepped into his space and kissed him, he wouldn't be standing here casually handing me aspirin.
"Thank you," I whisper, reaching for the water.
"We should leave in about thirty minutes if we want to beat the highway traffic back to the city," he says, turning on his heel to walk over to the window and pull the drapes back slightly.
His movements are precise, efficient, almost clinical.
I take a slow sip of water. "Kai?"
He stops with his hand on the curtain rod, looking back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"How were you actually up here last night?" I ask, holding his gaze over the rim of the glass. "You said you were in a nearby town for work, but... this far out on a Sunday?"
He turns his whole body around, giving a quiet, practical nod as if expecting the question.
"One of our regional construction contractors had a site dispute near the valley ridge," he explains smoothly, his voice flat and unhurried. "The local site manager panicked and called me late yesterday afternoon because they were threatening to stall the foundation pour before the storm hit. I drove up last night to handle the paperwork in person. I was staying at the business hotel three miles down the road when you called."
I listen to his seamless explanation.
It makes sense.
More sense than the strange, lingering suspicion I’d been carrying.
"I'm sorry I dragged you out in the middle of a storm," I say softly, looking down at my hands.
"You don't need to apologize for asking for help, Annie," Kai says gently.
He doesn't ask for an explanation, and he doesn't demand to know what happened at the estate.
He doesn't use the moment to push for details or extract gratitude.
He simply steps toward the door. "Get dressed. I'll wait for you outside."
[ *** ]
Forty minutes later, the sleek black car glides out of the hotel driveway, its tires humming softly against the damp asphalt.
The morning air outside is brisk, but inside the car, the atmosphere is warm.
As we pull out, Kai reaches into the backseat, pulls a thick cashmere travel blanket over the center console, and drapes it over my lap.
He shifts the climate control dial two ticks to the right, adjusting the airflow away from my face toward my feet.
"You were shivering when you got in the car," he says, his voice low and steady. "Get some sleep."
I look down at the blanket, my heart beating a little faster against my ribs as he shifts into drive.
I can’t wrap my head around it.
Is he just hyper-attentive by nature?
Does he treat everyone like this, or is he just managing me because I looked like a disaster last night?
Trying to read his neutral, composed profile only leaves me more bewildered.
He drives with both hands firmly on the wheel, his focus entirely on the winding road ahead, maintaining a safe distance from the timber trucks rumbling down the ridge.
As we hit a rough patch of road, I notice the faint, dark shadows under his eyes.
His grip on the wheel tightens for a fraction of a second, his knuckles turning pale before relaxing again.
I look at his sharp profile, suddenly noticing how tired he looks.
He didn't just come to get me.
He had his own long night too.
"Did you sleep at all?" I ask quietly.
Kai doesn't turn his head, his eyes staying fixed on the road. "Enough."
As I reach out to adjust the wool edge of the blanket, my fingers accidentally brush the back of his hand on the console where he rests his arm near the gear shift.
His hand goes still for half a second.
He doesn't pull away, but the sudden tension in his arm is unmistakable before he returns his hand to the steering wheel.
[ *** ]
Half an hour down the mountain, the car glides into a quiet rest stop.
Kai shifts the gear into park, unbuckles his seatbelt, and steps out into the chilly air without a word.
I watch through the rain-streaked side window as he walks to the small kiosk, speaks briefly to the cashier, and waits patiently while a hot drink is prepared.
When he returns a few minutes later, he opens his door, slides in, and sets a warm paper cup directly into my cup holder before buckling his own seatbelt.
I lift the plastic lid slightly.
A faint, herbal aroma rises from the steam. Chamomile.
"You barely touched the tea at the store last night," Kai says smoothly, putting the car back in drive and checking his blind spot.
I pick up the warm cup, my fingers tracing the cardboard sleeve. "Thank you for last night, Kai."
There is a brief pause before he answers.
His indicator clicks rhythmically as he merges back onto the highway, the silence between us suddenly feeling heavier.
"You're welcome," he says softly.
I pull the blanket higher around my shoulders, taking a slow sip.
I close my eyes, trying to force my mind to empty, but the memory cuts through anyway.
The steady, heavy thud of his heart under my palm when I pressed my hands to his chest.
The damp strands of his hair tangling in my fingers.
The sudden way his breath caught right before I pulled him down—and the way his body had gone completely stone-still beneath my touch.
My eyes open again, my heart kicking hard against my ribs.
That hadn't felt like a dream.
I can still remember the damp cotton of his collar beneath my fingertips, the rigid stillness of his frame when my mouth met his.
I stare out the rain-streaked window, a cold wave of uncertainty washing over me.
I still don't know what to do with it, but the possibility that it actually happened leaves me completely unsettled.
Exhaustion eventually pulls me under, and I drift off for a brief, heavy nap.
When I blink awake thirty minutes later, the car is still moving smoothly down the highway.
My phone sits on the console between us; it hasn't buzzed once.
I glance at the screen, wondering when I'd put it on silent.
I lift my head slightly, and my gaze drifts up to the rearview mirror.
Kai's eyes meet mine in the glass.
He doesn't smile, nor does he offer an explanation.
He simply adjusts his focus back down to the road, his jaw tightening slightly as he shifts his grip on the wheel.
I sit back slowly, my chest tightening.
Is he remembering? Is he thinking about it too?
Sitting back against the leather, I realize I hadn't known how tense I'd been until I was sitting beside him.
After weeks of walking on eggshells with Oliver—watching every word I said, anticipating the next shift in his mood—Kai doesn't ask me to justify why I left the estate.
He doesn't ask what Oliver said.
He simply lets the silence sit between us without demanding that I fill it.
I realize I don't have to perform.
I don't have to defend myself.
Hell, I don't even have to talk.
I lean my head back against the headrest, holding the warm cup between my hands.
I still can't decode Kai.
But for now, I'm just grateful he's here.
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