21. The Truth About Trust
21
THE TRUTH ABOUT TRUST
MACKENZIE
The thing about mountain cabins owned by tech billionaires is that they're never actually cabins. Alex's "little place in the mountains" turns out to be a stunning modern lodge perched on a private ridge, all glass and stone and spectacular views of snow-covered peaks. We arrive just as the winter sun is setting, painting the snow in shades of rose and gold.
"This is where you made the bachelor pact?" I ask as he parks the Range Rover. The drive up had taken longer than planned thanks to a small avalanche of texts from my family (mostly pasta-related warnings from Nonna) and what appeared to be Keith's revolutionary convoy getting pulled over for suspicious beret-wearing on the highway.
"Twenty-three years ago." Alex grabs our bags before I can protest. His muscles flex beneath his fitted sweater, hinting at the strength hidden underneath. "Though it looked different then. Less glass, more actual cabin."
"Let me guess – you redesigned it like your office? All transparency and view?" I can't help but admire the way his dark jeans hug his thighs, the casual elegance that seems to come so naturally to him.
"Actually," he unlocks the door, "I kept most of the original structure. Just opened it up to the light." His green eyes sparkle with a mix of mischief and warmth, and I can't help but feel a flutter in my chest.
The symbolism isn't lost on me.
Inside, the "cabin" manages to be both luxurious and welcoming. A massive stone fireplace dominates the great room, already laid with logs. The kitchen gleams with professional-grade equipment that would make Nonna weep with joy. And the views...
"This is where you hide from the world?" I move to the windows, watching snowflakes start to fall in the gathering dusk. Alex follows me, his presence commanding yet comforting. His chiseled jawline and the slight stubble add a rugged edge to his otherwise polished appearance.
"This is where I remember who I am outside of board rooms and business deals." He steps behind me, his warmth radiating through my sweater. His broad shoulders and tall frame make me feel small and protected. "Where I don't have to be Alexander Drake, CEO."
"Just Alex?" I turn to look at him, his dark hair slightly tousled from the drive, a few strands falling across his forehead.
"Just Alex." His hands settle on my waist, his touch firm yet gentle. "The guy who made stupid promises about never falling in love because he was too scared of ending up like his father."
My heart definitely doesn't skip at the L-word. "And now?"
"Now I'm breaking those promises." He turns me to face him fully, his eyes intense and focused. "Because some things are worth the risk." His lashes are dark and long, framing his eyes perfectly.
The kiss starts soft, tentative, but quickly blazes into something more. My hands find his hair, the soft strands slipping through my fingers as his mouth trails down my neck. Suddenly, we're making out like teenagers against the window.
"Alex," I manage as his hands slide under my sweater, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist. "We should?—"
My phone buzzes. Because of course it does.
"Ignore it," he murmurs against my throat, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.
It buzzes again. And again.
"It could be important?—"
"More important than this?" His eyes meet mine, a mix of amusement and desire darkening his gaze.
But I'm already pulling back to check, because two decades of tech industry conditioning is hard to break. Three notifications:
LUCIA: Nonna wants to know if the altitude is affecting the pasta sauce. Also, Keith just posted about a "revolutionary ski patrol" searching for "classified romantic locations."
AMELIA ZEGEN: Following up on our interview request. Very interested in the correlation between Drake Enterprises' culture changes and certain blog posts...
KEITH: COMRADE GALLO! The revolution requires your location for... strategic planning purposes. Totally unrelated to any romantic surveillance operations.
"Anything urgent?" Alex's voice carries amusement and something darker, his eyebrows raised in a playful challenge.
"Just the usual chaos." I turn my phone off. Actually off, for the first time in possibly years. "Where were we?"
His smile should be illegal, the way it lights up his face and makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. "I believe I was about to give you a tour."
"Of the cabin? "
"Eventually." His hands find my waist again, his thumbs tracing circles that make my breath hitch.
He kisses me again, and this time there's nothing tentative about it. His hands span my waist, lifting me onto the kitchen island with easy strength. The marble is cold through my jeans, but his mouth is hot on my neck, and suddenly the temperature difference is the most interesting experiment in contrasts.
His stubble grazes my skin, adding a rough edge to his soft kisses.
"The bedroom's upstairs," he murmurs between kisses, his breath warm against my ear.
"Is that a suggestion?" I look into his eyes, the green darkening with desire.
"More like a proposal." His hands slide higher under my sweater, his one fingers tracing the line of my bra. "Unless you'd prefer to continue our corporate culture discussion..."
I laugh against his mouth, feeling the curve of his smile against my lips. "Trying to negotiate, Mr. Drake?"
"Trying to seduce my corporate culture consultant, Ms. Gallo." He nips at my lower lip, his teeth gently tugging. "Is it working?"
"Depends." I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling the hard muscles of his back beneath my hands. "Is this a hostile takeover?"
"Friendly merger." His fingers trace patterns on my skin that make it hard to think, his touch both gentle and firm. "Very friendly." His dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he looks down at me.
"Any specific terms?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
"Just one." He pulls back slightly, green eyes dark with want but also something deeper. His jawline is sharp, accentuated by the soft light filtering through the windows. "No more walls. No more hiding. Just us. "
The honesty in his voice makes my chest tight. He's not just talking about physical walls or professional barriers. He means all of it – the blog, the changes, the way we've been circling each other since that first champagne-soaked gala.
"Alex..." I reach up, tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble against my fingertips.
"I know who you are, Mac." His thumb traces my cheekbone, his touch tender. "All of you. The critic and the champion. The revolutionary and the reformer. And I want all of it. All of you." His eyes hold mine, the green depths filled with longing.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
"Upstairs," I manage, because if I don't kiss him right now I might actually combust. "Now."
He grins against my mouth, his dimples deepening. "So demanding."
"Problem with that?" I challenge, my voice breathless.
"God, no." He lifts me easily, his muscles flexing beneath his sweater. "It's one of my favorite things about you." His eyes sparkle with amusement and desire, a dangerous combination that makes my heart race.
We make it halfway up the stairs before my sweater hits the floor. His follows somewhere in the hallway, revealing the toned muscles of his chest and abs. By the time we reach the master bedroom, we're both significantly less dressed and significantly more desperate.
His jeans hang low on his hips, revealing the V of his muscles that disappear beneath the waistband.
"Wait," I gasp as he lays me on the ridiculously large bed. "Protection?"
He reaches for the nightstand drawer, his biceps bulging with the movement. "I might have been optimistic in my packing." His voice is a low rumble, filled with promise.
"Might have? "
"Thoroughly prepared, in fact.” He kisses down my neck, his lips soft and warm against my skin. "Like any good CEO."
"Always have to be in control, don't you?"
His smile turns wicked. “Want to negotiate that position?" His voice is a low growl, filled with promise.
"I want you to take control," I whisper, my voice thick with desire. "Show me what you've got, Mr. Drake."
His eyelids grow heavy with lust, his pupils dilating as he looks at me with pure hunger.
He trails kisses down my body, his hands exploring every curve and contour. I curl like a contented cat into his touch, my breath hitching as he unhooks my bra and tosses it aside. His mouth finds my nipple, sucking and teasing until I'm writhing beneath him, my fingertips curving half-moons into his silky silver-streaked hair and scalp.
"Alex," I moan, my hands gripping his hair, feeling the soft strands slip through my fingers. "More."
He complies, his hands sliding down to my hips, pulling off my jeans and underwear in one swift motion. I'm completely exposed to him, and the way he looks at me, the way he gazes between my legs with pure hunger and adoration, makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. His green eyes flash.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the line of my thigh, his touch both gentle and firm. "I want to taste every inch of you." His voice is a low rumble, filled with promise.
He starts at my ankles, kissing and licking his way up my legs. I shiver with anticipation, my body aching for his touch. When he finally reaches the apex of my thighs, he pauses, looking up at me.
"Tell me what you want, Mac." His voice is a low growl.
"I want you to make me feel good," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I want you to make me scream your name." His grin widens, and he dives in, his tongue finding my clit with unerring precision.
I gasp, my hips rocking back and forth against his mouth as he licks and sucks, taking me to depths of pleasure I hadn’t even known existed. His dark hair falls across his forehead, a few strands brushing against my skin as he moves. I can feel the roughness of his stubble against my thighs, adding a delicious contrast to his soft kisses.
"Alex," I moan, my hands fisting the sheets, feeling the cool fabric beneath my fingers. "Oh god, Alex." His name is a chant on my lips, a plea for more.
He slides a finger inside me, then another, curling them to hit that perfect spot. I'm panting, my body trembling as he brings me closer and closer to the edge.
"Come for me, Mac," he growls against my skin, his voice a low rumble filled with command. "Let me hear you scream."
And I do. I come undone, my body stiffening, my senses shattering as waves of pleasure crash over me. I scream his name, my voice echoing through the room as he continues to lick and suck, drawing out every last drop of pleasure. His muscles flex beneath his skin as he moves, his body a work of art in motion.
When I finally come down from my high, he's there, kissing his way up my body. His lips are soft and warm against my skin, his breath hot as he murmurs sweet nothings against my ear.
"I need you, Mac," he whispers, his voice rough with need. "I need to be inside you."
I nod, my body still trembling with aftershocks. "Yes," I whisper. "Please."
He shifts, and I get my first good look at his thick cock. The width of the weighty shaft alone screams “CEO.”
My eyes are still stuck on that chief executive dick of his as he rolls on a condom and positions himself at my still-slick entrance, his pine-green eyes nearly burning a hole into my soul. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmurs, as he slowly slides inside me.
I gasp, my body stretching to accommodate him. He feels so good, so right, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, helping him drive further into me.
"Fuck, Mac," he groans, his dark brows settling against mine, his breath hot against my lips. "You feel so fucking good." His voice is a low rumble, filled with pleasure.
He starts to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm. I match his pace, our bodies moving in perfect sync. The room fills with the sound of our moans, our sighs—our groans.
"Harder," I whisper, my nails digging into his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath my fingertips. "Fuck me harder, Alex."
He complies, his thrusts becoming faster, more urgent. I can feel another orgasm building, my body tightening around his, contracting and stretching in tempo.
"Come with me, Mac," he growls, his voice rough with effort, his muscles rippling beneath his skin, drawing tight. "Come with me."
And I do. I come undone again, my body shaking, shuddering, quaking as he thrusts deep inside me, his own release following close behind.
Much later, wrapped in obscenely expensive sheets and watching snow fall outside the wall of windows, I find myself tracing patterns on his chest. His muscles are firm beneath my fingertips, his skin warm and smooth.
"You really knew?" I ask quietly, looking up at him, his dark hair slightly tousled. "About the blog?" His green eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of amusement and tenderness.
"I suspected." His fingers draw lazy circles on my hip, his touch both gentle and firm. "Then I started falling for you, and it didn't matter anymore." His lips curve into a slight smile, revealing a hint of dimples that make him look almost boyish.
"When?"
"When did I suspect, or when did I start falling?"
"Both." I reach up, tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble against my fingertips.
He shifts to look at me properly, his green eyes intent in the firelight. "I suspected after the meditation room incident. You knew too much, cared too much. But I started falling the moment you threw champagne at me and called me everything wrong with tech culture." His hand cups my face, thumb tracing the curve of my hairline, his touch tender.
"That turns you on? Corporate criticism?"
"You turn me on." He demonstrates this fact thoroughly, his eyes darkening with desire. "Everything about you. Including the part that made me a better CEO."
I should feel exposed. Should feel vulnerable about him knowing my secret, about being here, about all of it.
Instead, I feel... free.
“I’m proud of you, you know,” I whisper into the quiet, the words carrying all the weight of twenty years of being too much, too strong, too everything. "Not just the CEO who's changing things. Not just the man who breaks pacts for me. All of you. The way you see both sides of me. The way you never ask me to be less."
His breath catches. For a moment, the only sound is the crackling fire and the soft fall of snow outside.
"Mac." His voice roughens as he shifts to look at me properly, green eyes alit under the orange-amber glow. "I've spent twenty years building walls to protect myself from exactly this feeling. Telling myself that love and success couldn't coexist. That I had to choose." His hand curves around my jaw, his hold tender. "Then you threw champagne at me and called out everything wrong with my company, and suddenly all those walls seemed pointless. Because you... you're both the hurricane that broke them down and the shelter I never knew I needed."
"Alex..." I reach up, one fingertip trailing along his jawline.
He grabs my hand.
"I love you, Mackenzie Gallo,” he continues, voice thick, words slightly slurred. "The critic and the champion. The warrior and the woman. Every brilliant, impossible, perfect part of you. And I'm done choosing between success and love. I want both. With you."
Tears prick my eyes – happy tears, overwhelming tears.
"Even the part that throws drinks at CEOs?" I manage, though my voice wavers.
"Especially that part." He kisses me softly, reverently, his lips warm and soft against mine. "Though maybe we switch to cheaper beverages. That Sassicaia was actually quite good." His eyes sparkle with amusement, his dimples deepening.
I laugh through my tears, the sound mixing with his softer chuckle, and suddenly we're both laughing and crying and kissing, all the walls finally, completely down.
Snow falls harder outside, but we're warm in our bubble of truth and trust and really excellent sex.
Until my phone buzzes from somewhere in the trail of clothes leading to the bedroom.
"If that's Keith's revolutionary ski patrol," Alex mutters against my neck, his voice a low rumble filled with amusement, "I'm buying the entire mountain just to keep him off it."
"Such a tech bro solution."
"You love it."
"I love…something, alright.” My gaze hangs to the sturdy appendage making itself known between his thighs.
"Prove it."
So, I do.
Several times .
As we make love again and again, I can't help but admire every inch of him, from the sharp edges of his jawline to the soft curves of his lips, from the dark intensity of his eyes to the playful sparkle in his smile.
He is, quite simply, the most beautiful man I have ever seen. And I am completely, utterly in love with him.