Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Ariana
I curled my hands around the mug of coffee and scanned the sprawling property for any sign of Henry.
Still nothing.
When he’d asked if I wanted to walk with him again this morning, I hadn’t thought to ask what time. He was always up early. Always moving. Always disciplined. But the light had been creeping higher for a while now, and still no Henry.
Maybe he was sleeping.
Maybe he forgot.
Neither possibility felt like him.
I considered walking up to the main house to check, but I didn’t want him to think I was eager to see him. Or that I was willing to forgive him for everything so quickly.
And yet, I’d been looking forward to seeing him again. Especially since I hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning. I’d even gone up to the main house and snuck into his library to borrow a book. He must have known I was there. I saw the red light from the cameras.
But he didn’t leave his office.
I shouldn’t have been surprised.
He’d barely left his office in Maine. Spent every waking moment locked in that dark room, surrounded only by computers and monitors.
But his absence was more profound than I expected it to be.
The sharp sound of barking cut through, and my heart leapt as a blur of brown and white fur came barreling down the dirt path.
And when Henry came into view seconds later, my stomach did little backflips.
His hands were tucked into the pockets of a gray hoodie with NAVY emblazoned on it, the fabric stretched across his broad chest. His jeans hung low on his hips, and his hair was a disheveled mess that should’ve looked careless, but it only made him look more breathtakingly human.
Cato circled him, barking impatiently, as if urging him to move faster.
I walked down the porch steps and met him halfway, holding out one of the travel coffee mugs I’d prepared earlier.
“Black. Just the way you like it.”
“Thanks.” He took the mug, his voice low and a little rough.
It reminded me of waking up beside him in Maine, his body curved against mine, his voice tired and raspy first thing in the morning.
Before that day, I’d always woken up alone. It was safer that way. Or so I thought.
Until I woke up in Henry’s arms. Even now, even with the lies between us, I still found myself craving the comfort I felt when wrapped in his embrace.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Of course.”
We fell into step together, our shoes crunching over the gravel path as he led me toward the open pastures. Henry pulled a faded tennis ball from his hoodie and threw it across the field. Cato took off after it, kicking up dust in his wake.
“How did yesterday go?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “Any news about Victor?” My throat tightened around his name. “Where he might be?”
He exhaled, long and tired. I could feel the frustration radiating off him. “Nothing yet. Blake has eyes on his hotels and clubs, but as you know, there are a lot of them.”
“I wish I could be more help,” I offered. “I learned early on it was safer to only speak when spoken to. To not ask questions. Otherwise—”
He turned to me so abruptly I nearly ran into him. His hand came up to cradle my cheek, his palm warm, his thumb brushing my skin.
“It’s okay,” he assured me softly. “I’ll find him.”
“But—”
“I. Will. Find. Him,” he repeated, emphasizing each word, his determined green eyes unwavering as they bored into mine. Then, as if realizing the intensity of his touch, he let go.
Cato approached, dropping the ball at Henry’s feet. He threw it again, his motion easy and fluid.
“Tell me more about landscape architecture,” he said, the abrupt change in subject taking me by surprise.
I blinked. “What?”
“What about it interested you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Do you really care, or are you just trying to change the subject?”
“I’m absolutely trying to change the subject,” he admitted with a faint smile.
“I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours chasing down every lead I came across, no matter how obscure.
My brain needs a break from all this for a minute.
” He paused, his expression sobering. “But I also care. I want to learn these things about you. Want to learn what makes you tick. What you’re passionate about. What makes you happy.”
It was such a simple admission. Most people wouldn’t think twice about it. But it struck something deep inside me.
Victor never seemed interested in learning about me. Not really. He’d decided who I should be, dressed me in his version of perfection, and called it love.
Henry’s genuine interest felt like sunlight hitting skin that had gone too long without warmth.
“What is it?” he asked, noticing my reaction.
“It feels strange to talk about this stuff again.”
“Why?”
“Victor never understood why I liked gardening and landscaping. In his mind, that was work for ‘the help’. He said my time was better spent attending luncheons and organizing charitable events with the other wives. Things much more fitting for the wife of Victor Kane.” I rolled my eyes.
“Well, I’m not him. Forget about being the person he forced you to be. Just be Ariana Summers.”
“I’m not sure I know who that is anymore,” I whispered to myself.
At least, I thought it was to myself.
But Henry heard me.
He turned me toward him and brushed a loose strand of hair from my face, his touch lingering long enough to make my breath catch.
“Then let me help you figure that out.”
I didn’t move as his gaze dropped to my mouth. The air between us grew heavy with the pull I’d been trying so hard to ignore. Every inch of me tingled with anticipation, longing to feel his lips on mine, especially after that tease of a kiss the other night.
He curved toward me, and I held my breath, the seconds seeming to stretch.
“And you can start,” he murmured, “by telling me more about the things you once loved.” He stepped back, his absence causing a chill to overwhelm me.
“Tease,” I muttered.
“What do you mean?” His tone was innocent. His smirk was not.
“Don’t play dumb, Henry,” I chastised, walking beside him once more. “It doesn’t suit you. You know what you’re doing.”
“And what am I doing?”
“Like I said. You’re being a tease.”
“How so?”
“By not kissing me when I know you want to.”
“I want to do a lot more than kiss you, Ariana.”
“Why haven’t you? You get so close, then pull away. Or is this all a part of your game?”
He stopped walking, and I did the same.
“There’s no game. It doesn’t matter what I want.
” He stepped closer, our bodies a whisper away.
“All that matters is what you want. I know I’ve hurt you.
Know you’re not sure if you can trust me.
I want you to. But I also understand trust is difficult for you.
I hope I’ll eventually earn back your trust. Until then, we can just spend time learning about each other in order to help you figure out what you want. That’s the only way this will work.”
I tilted my head back, my chest tightening. “You want this to work?”
“More than anything.”
Something inside me cracked open at the sincerity in his voice. The emotion. The care. No one had ever spoken to me like this. With desire wrapped in restraint. With patience that didn’t feel performative.
“But I need your trust first,” he continued.
“Need you to believe me when I say I’m not keeping you here to imprison you.
I understand why you’re skeptical about taking my word for it.
If I were in your shoes, I would be, too.
But my offer of protection isn’t a trap.
If I could ensure your safety, I’d happily let you go.
Let you live the life you deserve. But Victor’s still out there.
He paid dangerous men a lot of money to find you.
And if something happened to you because I let you walk away, I’d never forgive myself.
“I hope you’ll eventually come to understand my actions aren’t to control you. I just… I care about you, Ariana. More than I thought possible. But I want you to choose me. Not because you feel any sort of obligation to me. But because you trust me. So until that happens, I’ll wait.”
I stared at him, my throat tight. His words hit somewhere deep, somewhere that hadn’t felt warmth in a long time. I wanted to trust him. Wanted to let myself believe he wasn’t like Victor. But wanting and being able to were two very different things.
“It’s hard for me,” I admitted. “Victor… He said all the right things, too.”
“I’m not him. Even if I can be…a little overbearing.”
“A little?” I retorted playfully, arching an eyebrow.
“Okay. More than a little,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “You bring out a side of me I didn’t know existed. And it’s not because I want to own or possess you, show you off as a trophy. It’s because I can’t stomach the idea of not having you in my life.”
He reached out and cupped my cheek again, his touch gentle. Reverent.
“It doesn’t matter how long it takes for you to realize what I’m saying is true,” he murmured. “A week. A month. A lifetime. I won’t give up. Won’t stop trying to earn your trust. Earn you.”
I fought back the tears forming in my eyes. For so long, I’d done everything in my power to hide all my emotions. Victor would only use them against me.
But with Henry, I felt like I could let him see all my fractured pieces.
Just like he’d allowed me to see all his broken pieces.
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I retorted in a shaky breath. “You are over forty. I’m not sure how many good years you have left.”
His laughter cut through the tension like sunlight breaking through the clouds, bathing everything in light once more.
“Am I always going to have to put up with the age jokes?”
“And if you are?”
“I can handle it.”
He flashed me a wink, then turned back toward the path, as if he hadn’t just cracked himself open and handed me everything inside to do with as I pleased.
“So landscape architecture.” He cleared his throat. “Tell me about it.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked, catching up to him.
“Everything, Ariana.” His gaze locked on mine, his eyes filled with an emotion I was too scared to label. “I want to know everything about you.”
And for the first time in years, I wanted someone to know everything about me.
So I did the one thing I didn’t think I’d ever be able to do again.
I let him in.