Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Nick
The café is quiet.
I don’t like it. It gives me way too much time to think. But I chose it deliberately. I wanted distance… distance from the world that knows me, from the people who think they understand me.
Here, I’m just another man waiting for a meeting.
And Isla Vale? She’s just another journalist.
She walks in through the door, and at first glance, she doesn’t look like much. She doesn’t have that air of evil. I don’t know why I expected that; I think I’ve built her up into something in my mind that she isn’t, really.
She’s dressed simply, nothing flashy, but everything about her seems calculated. Her movements are fluid, confident. She walks with the poise of someone who knows exactly how much space they occupy.
She spots me immediately, of course.
She doesn’t need to search for me in the crowd; it’s as if she has some kind of radar. Isla takes her time walking toward me, and when she finally sits down, she doesn’t need to say anything. The silence says it all.
“Ashford,” she finally declares, her voice cutting through the quiet in the room, more coldly professional than anything else. “I didn’t expect to hear from you. I was told I was being cut off.”
I don’t offer a smile, no handshakes. It’s not that I don’t want to engage, I just don’t think it matters.
“You’re late,” I remark.
She shrugs as if it’s an afterthought. “A little bit of drama builds anticipation.”
It’s not a defense. It’s just a line. And the way she says it, so effortlessly, so practiced, tells me everything I need to know.
She’s not here to be intimidated. She’s here because she thinks she can control this conversation. And maybe she can.
She doesn’t waste time. “Do we really need to talk about this in circles, Nick? I came here for a reason, as did you. So let’s get to it.”
I narrow my eyes.
I’ve seen enough to know this is more than just a journalist trying to get a scoop. Her eyes may be calm, but I can see how quickly they dart, calculating. Looking for the angle. Looking for leverage.
Damn, she’s sharp.
But she won’t take me down.
“I’m offering you a way out,” I say, keeping my voice low, measured. “A sum that should be more than enough to make you reconsider publishing the story you’ve been drafting. No headlines. No follow up. Just… nothing.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her gaze unwavering.
When she speaks again, her voice has an edge of amusement, as though she’s toying with me. “A buyout, then? Interesting. How quaint.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “You think I’ll just take your money and walk away? You think I’m the kind of journalist who can be bought off that easily?”
I can see the challenge in her eyes, but I’m undeterred. “I think you can be bought off. And I think you’ll take it.”
“Hmm well this is interesting,” she says, eyes glinting as she reads the check. “I have to admit, this is a lot. You really don’t want this story to get out, do you?”
I lean forward slightly, watching her. “So, you’ll take it?”
She shifts in her seat, but doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she takes a long breath, like she’s considering the weight of it.
“This would change a lot of things for me, Nick. It’s not just money, it’s control. I’m not sure you realize what you’re asking.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking,” I reply, the edge of my voice softening. “I’m offering you an escape. No mess. No drama. Just walk away with your check, and this is over.”
Her eyes narrow, searching me for something. “You think you’re the first person to try and buy me off? You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about the money for me.”
“Then what is it about?” I ask, my tone sharpening. I’ve offered her everything. There’s nothing more to give.
She’s on the edge. All I need is for her to take the final step.
She glances at the paper again, her fingers brushing it before she pulls her hand back. “It’s about power. I get to choose whether or not you get to control me. If I take this deal, then you’ve won.”
“I’m not trying to control you,” I say, matching her intensity. “I’m trying to give you an opportunity to walk away with something that could set you up for years.”
She bites her lip, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve lost her. But then she speaks. “What happens if I don’t take it? What’s the fallout for me, Nick?”
I don’t hesitate. “It’s not just the story. It’s everything else. I’m giving you a choice. You walk away with a quiet victory, or you stay in this game, and you’ll lose everything you’ve built.”
She looks at me long and hard. She picks up the paper again, folds it once, twice, and then looks back at me. “You think I can’t handle the fallout?”
“I think you can,” I say quietly. “But why take the risk? The money’s here. You’ve got the leverage. You’re in control of this moment.”
Isla’s lips curl into a small, reluctant smile. “I’ve never been offered so much money. Not like this.”
I press the point. “So, you think it’s worth it?”
Her eyes flicker with indecision for just a moment. But then she nods slowly, the decision made. “Alright. Fine. I’ll take it.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. She’s agreed. The weight of the conversation shifts, the tension in the air dissipating.
“But let’s make something clear, Nick,” she adds, her voice suddenly hard again. “This is a one-time thing. Don’t mistake this for a trend. You think you’ve won, but remember, this is just business.”
“I’m not mistaken,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. “I know exactly what I’m doing.” I stand up, pushing the chair back with quiet finality. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
As I turn and head for the door, I can almost feel the shift in the air. I’ve won. I’ve solved it.
And Sara doesn’t need to know a thing.
The clock on the wall blinks 2 a.m. when I finally give up on sleep.
It’s been a long day and my mind’s still running, too many things to process. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at the ceiling. Time feels meaningless when I can’t get her out of my head.
I sit up, throwing back the covers. The room is still and dark, the city hum outside the window a soft lullaby I can’t escape. There’s only one place I want to be.
I walk quietly down the hall, not bothering to check the time. The kitchen light spills from under the door, and I don’t need to wonder. I already know she’s there. If she wasn’t in bed beside me, where else is she going to be?
The sound of the freezer door opening meets my ears as I round the corner. She’s standing by the counter, spoon in hand, eyes fixed on the pint of Rocky Road. There’s no sound except the electric buzz of the fridge and the quiet scrape of her spoon against the ice cream. She doesn’t see me yet.
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, taking in the way the light hits her skin, the way she moves so effortlessly, even in the stillness of the night. The way she’s always so damn beautiful, without even trying.
“You’re still up?” I ask, voice rough from sleep.
She doesn’t look at me, just shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I could ask you the same thing.”
I step into the room, the tension in my shoulders easing at the sight of her, even if I can feel it in my gut. I glance down at the counter and see the melted chocolate smeared across her belly.
“You got a little something…” I nod to her stomach, a grin tugging at my lips.
She looks down, surprised. “What? Oh.”
I move before she can wipe it away. Dropping to one knee, I lean in close, my lips brushing against her skin, tasting the chocolate. Her breath catches as I lick it off, the sweet and rich flavor coating my tongue.
I pull back, my eyes meeting hers, feeling the heat between us intensify. “Everything about you is ridiculous.”
She lets out a quiet laugh, the sound light, almost breathless. “You’re ridiculous.”
I don’t look away. Instead, I reach up and run a thumb along the curve of her stomach, the warmth of her skin still lingering beneath my touch. I want to pull her closer, feel her body against mine, but I hold back. I’m not sure if it’s her hesitation or my own, but I need to give her a moment.
She watches me, her eyes darker now, more intense. Her hand finds the edge of the counter, her fingers curling. She leans in, the scent of vanilla and chocolate on her breath.
“You know,” she says softly, “you’re a real distraction.”
I smile, standing up, my body closer to hers now. She’s all soft curves and heat, and it takes everything I have not to pull her in and kiss her senseless.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
I take the spoon from her hand, gently, the moment hanging between us, full of something I can’t quite name.
“You don’t need that.” I hold the pint in front of her, raising an eyebrow. “Not when you’ve got me.”
She laughs again, a low, sultry sound that makes my pulse spike. “Is that so?”
I pull her toward me, the air between us thick with anticipation. Her eyes flick to my lips before meeting mine again.
“You don’t need anything else,” I murmur as I brush my lips against her ear, feeling her shiver at the closeness. “Not when I’m right here.”
I press my lips to the soft curve of her neck, the heat between us now undeniable. She’s breathing a little faster, her hands moving to my chest as if to push me away.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she grabs the collar of my shirt, tugging me closer.
“I think you might be right,” she says, a wicked smile on her lips as her fingers trail down the buttons of my shirt.
The way she looks at me, the way she touches me, she’s unraveling every bit of restraint I have left. I kiss her, slow and deep, tasting the remnants of chocolate still lingering on her lips. She responds immediately, pressing herself against me as if this moment was inevitable.
When we pull away, both breathless, I can’t help but smile. It’s the only thing that makes sense right now, the only thing that grounds me in this overwhelming chaos we’ve created.