Chapter 14 #2
Morning slipped through the glass doors in soft, golden streaks. The storm had passed, but its echo lingered in the hush of the villa, the warmth of the sheets, and in the faint ache between her thighs.
Gaby stirred slowly, mind reluctant to wake. She didn’t want to disturb the moment. Rhys lay curled around her, one arm draped over her waist, face tucked against her hair as if he belonged there.
And for a few stolen hours, he had.
Careful not to wake him, she eased onto her side to see his face then stilled, memorizing him like this—unguarded, unarmored. Her gaze traced his morning-scruffy jaw, the thick fan of dark lashes, the sensual curve of his mouth.
As if he sensed her watching, his eyes opened.
“Morning,” she murmured.
He smiled faintly, brushing his hand along her hip before he glanced toward the windows. “Is it?” he asked, listening. “Sounds like the storm has passed.”
She propped herself on one elbow so she could look at him properly. “Are we really going to discuss the weather after last night?”
Uncertainty flashed briefly, then it was gone. He sat up, the mattress dipping beneath him.
“You can’t deny the chemistry,” she insisted.
He didn’t deflect. Didn’t joke. “You’re right. I can’t. This isn’t about you, Gaby. It’s me.” Twin vertical lines appeared between his gathered brows. “Perhaps it always has been.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.” He exhaled, voice low. “Half the time, I don’t understand it myself.”
A roar cut through the quiet. Not wind or thunder, but a vehicle struggling in mud. “Our ride is here,” he said, the moment slipping away. He was already out of bed, naked and unbothered by it as he crossed to their bags.
“How do you know?”
“Phones are back up. I messaged Leland before dawn.”
They didn’t have much time to clear the air. “Rhys—” she began.
He paused, glancing back. “I’ll explain. I owe you that. But first, we finish the mission and bring your sister home.”
His words offered no promises or declarations, just more restraint. But it wasn’t a dismissal either.
She searched his face, looking for the man who’d whispered against her skin hours ago. He was still there, but buried now, beneath layers of control.
The mission hadn’t changed. But neither had what lay between them.
She nodded, accepting it because it was more than she’d had yesterday.
Outside, car doors slammed, and Mateo’s voice rang out. “Hello inside! Rhys! Gaby! Did you make it through the night in one piece?”
Rhys tugged on his pants. “Hurry and dress,” he said. “They’ll be barging in any second.”
She pulled the gauzy sundress over her head, fingers combing through tangled curls just as Leland burst through the door. He took in the rumpled bed and scattered clothes and raised a brow. No comment. Just acknowledgment.
“Power’s out in half the town,” he said. “Trees down, roads a mess. But the airstrip’s clear.”
“Breakfast with álvarez?” Rhys asked.
“Cancelled. His assistant said Sebastián will be in touch about the exposition next month.”
“Dodged a bullet there,” Gaby muttered. “I don’t know how I would’ve eaten in his presence.”
“If you were allowed to attend,” Rhys said, shrugging into his shirt. “The brunch invitation was extended to Lucien.”
“Right. No pets allowed.”
“Our pilot’s en route. We should be wheels up in an hour,” Leland said, as he exited the room, closing the door behind him and shutting out Mateo’s curiosity.
Gaby sat heavily on the edge of the bed, shoes in hand.
“What’s wrong?” Rhys asked, tucking in his shirt.
“Next month seems like an eternity. Longer for Natalie.”
He crossed to her and ran a hand up her arm, a fleeting touch. “It’s the best we can do. But it’s one step closer to freeing her. Hold on to that.”
She nodded, but her gaze lingered on his. Hours ago, he’d been unguarded. Now he was back in control, every button fastened, every emotion locked away.
“Ready to go?” he asked. “I think we’ve both had enough of álvarez’s hospitality.”
Gaby slipped on her shoes. If she were never his guest again, it would be too soon.
She glanced around to make sure she had everything. Her gaze landed on the rumpled bed. What they shared there was the one memory she wanted to take with her, even if it hurt.
“I’m ready,” she said softly.
As they stepped outside, the sun broke through the clouds. Gaby took it as a good omen for the mission, and for whatever might follow. Although it was the whatever that unsettled her most.
***
The flight back to Miami was quiet in a way that felt different. Gaby took the window seat without comment and stayed there the entire flight, chin propped on her knuckles, eyes following the clouds as if she were untangling her thoughts mile by mile.
She wasn’t withdrawn exactly, just focused. Thoughtful. The animation he’d seen in the villa, the spark and teasing ease she’d offered him that night, were gone, packed away with everything else she didn’t have the luxury to dwell on.
Leland sat across the aisle, arms crossed, expression carved from stone. Every so often, he stared hard at Rhys, his judgment unmistakable.
Mateo was worse. No glare. No comment. Just a slow shake of his head when Rhys caught his eye. As if the verdict that he was an absolute idiot had already been reached.
Rhys told himself the silence was temporary. That they’d talk once they landed. That there would be time to sort through what had happened. What they had let happen.
But when the plane touched down, and the seat belt lights blinked off, Gaby was already unbuckling, already reaching for her bag.
They deplaned together but split toward their vehicles. She would have kept going. He wasn’t ready for her to walk away. Not like this.
That was what finally made him speak.
“Gaby.”
She stopped and turned. Her expression was calm, composed, but not closed. Just decided.
He opened his mouth, uncertain which of the dozen things crowding his mind might survive being spoken aloud.
She spared him the trouble. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“I feel like I should—”
“I know.” A faint, almost rueful smile touched her mouth.
“But I’ve had time to think.” She stepped closer, keeping her voice low.
“What happened in Costa Rica wasn’t a mistake,” she said.
“It was adrenaline, forced proximity, a storm we both got swept up in.” One corner of her mouth lifted.
“Two adults with chemistry, alone in a villa, cut off from the world. It was real, and I’ll never forget it, but it was one night. ”
His chest tightened.
“I’m not asking you for more,” she continued. “I don’t expect promises. Or anything beyond what we agreed to. We’re coworkers. We have a mission. That’s enough.”
Bloody hell. She was letting him off the hook. The very thing he’d convinced himself he needed.
“Natalie comes first. Everything else can wait.” She smiled then—not flirtatious, not sad. Steady. “I’m good, Rhys. Really.”
She stepped back. No pause. No invitation to argue. Just a clean withdrawal, as if she were doing him a favor.
He watched her walk toward her car, posture straight, shoulders squared, not once looking back.
This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? No expectations. No entanglements. No risk.
So, why did it feel like he’d just been punched in the gut for accepting it?
Leland passed him without a word, disapproval radiating off him.
Mateo lingered just long enough to say, “You know, you’re great at reading a room. You just miss yourself in it. And that leads to some impressively bad calls.”
Rhys didn’t answer.
He stood there long after the others had driven off, her words echoing in his head.
It was one night. I’m not asking for more.
Somehow, that hurt worse.
As he turned toward his car, Rhys realized the restraint he’d spent years perfecting wasn’t holding, and he’d never felt quite so out of control.