Chapter 24
Savannah awoke surrounded by warmth.
The light in Dubai was different, somehow softer, filtered through the gold-toned curtains. Savannah blinked awake, warm and cocooned in Sawyer’s arms, the sheets tangled around them like a secret.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Not with the way her heart had been pounding so wildly just hours ago, not with the way he’d looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
But sleep had come easily in his arms. A deep, dreamless sleep.
She had never felt more peaceful. More safe. More free.
She turned her face into his bare shoulder, savoring the steady beat of his heart under her cheek. His arm tightened around her instinctively.
For a moment, there was no Senator. No diplomatic mission. No media. No eyes watching her every move. There was just this: her body sore in places that reminded her of everything she and Sawyer had shared the night before, and her heart full of something she hadn’t let herself feel in years.
If it wasn’t love, it was dangerously close to it.
Everything about last night played behind her eyelids in fragments: his hands, his mouth, the way he’d touched her like she wasn’t breakable but precious.
She had spent years learning how to obey and quiet herself, how to take up less space, how to become invisible beneath the Senator’s expectations.
But with Sawyer . . . she had felt seen.
She smiled into the hollow of his throat.
“You’re smiling,” he murmured, his voice still sleep-rough.
“You’re warm,” she whispered.
His arms tightened around her. “You’re mine.”
Her chest caught, something fluttering behind her ribs. She didn’t say it aloud, but the thought echoed in her mind: And you’re mine.
They kissed lazily, sweet and slow, until reality tugged at her from the edges.
They had another plane to catch. This time to Oman.
She didn’t know much about the middle eastern country or its capital, Muscat, where the Royal Opera House she would be performing in was located.
It was time to put the mask back on. But just a few more minutes . . .
Savannah snuggled deeper into his arms. She really didn’t want to move. But her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Sawyer groaned. “Leave it,” he murmured, voice gravel-rough from sleep.
But the screen lit up with a second buzz.
She sat up, dragging the sheet to her chest, frowning.
Sawyer reached for the phone first, checked the screen, then passed it to her without a word before getting out of bed and walking in all his naked glory to the bathroom.
Savannah stared after him for a moment before shaking out of her stupor and looking down at her phone.
The ID was an unknown number, and the message was short.
It’s not just the Senator you should be asking questions about.
A link followed.
Heart in her throat, Savannah tapped it.
A grainy video loaded, clearly captured from CCTV. It showed a dark hallway. A man, partially hidden, tampering with something. The footage sharpened enough to catch a side profile as he turned.
It was Sawyer.
Standing in front of the women’s restroom in the Théatre des Champs-élysées. when the lights had gone out, and she’d been locked in.
She dropped the phone just as Sawyer came back into the room and stepped into a pair of boxers. She stared at the man across the room. The man she had trusted with her life and her heart.
“Savannah—” he started, stepping forward.
She clamored out of the bed, taking the sheet with her and wrapping it around her.
“Tell me that’s not you,” she whispered.
His jaw clenched. “What?”
At his utterly confused expression, she hesitated. But the image in the video was unmistakably him. She didn’t know what to believe. Her mind raced, and for the first time since the tour began, Savannah felt terrifyingly alone.
Savannah’s fingers trembled as she bent to retrieve her phone from the middle of the bed that now seemed too ostentatious.
The video had looped, playing over and over again.
Sawyer’s face in a low-resolution frame as he glanced over his shoulder, half in shadow.
Every logical bone in her body screamed that this had to be a mistake, a trick of the light, a deepfake, something.
Yet she couldn’t help feeling the gut punch of dread in her chest.
“Savi?” Sawyer questioned quietly, still across the room. “What is it?” He took a few steps toward her.
She held up a hand to stop him, her voice a whisper. “Don’t come any closer.”
His brows furrowed. “What’s going on? You think I would hurt you?”
“I don’t know what to think,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “That night in Paris . . . I thought I was losing my mind. I was locked in that bathroom, in the dark, reliving things I’ve spent years trying to forget. You were supposed to be outside, guarding me.”
“I was,” he said firmly. “I didn’t leave that hallway.”
She stared at him. “Then why does the video show you doing something to the door?”
Sawyer’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t do anything to it. Not until I got worried and went to check on you. That’s when I found the lock had been jammed.”
“But this . . . This makes it look like you tampered with the lock.” She held up the phone and he hesitantly stepped closer.
Savannah watched him as he viewed the video.
She could discern the subtle shift in his emotions.
Initially, his brows furrowed with confusion, then his jaw ticked rhythmically as a manifestation of his rising anger.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “This really isn’t what it looks like. This is me, yes, but the timestamp is all wrong. I did take a closer look at the lock before breaking down the door. It had been tampered with. I had no choice but to kick it down. That’s what you’re seeing.”
Savannah’s head spun. “So, you think the timestamp was edited?”
“I think someone wants you to doubt me.” His tone was calm—too calm. And that scared her more than if he’d been angry or defensive. “Haley pulled footage from every angle available. I can have her send it to you. She can confirm.”
Feeling the familiar pressure behind her eyes that heralded a migraine, she rubbed her temples, trying to alleviate the building tension. This was too much. She had to wonder what the endgame was in all of this. “Why? Why would anyone want me to doubt you?” she asked.
Sawyer stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “Because whoever’s behind this—whoever orchestrated the bathroom lockdown, the tainted water, and maybe even the attack in Baku—knows I’m your shield. And if they can make you question me, it weakens both of us.”
Her throat tightened. It made sense. It should make sense.
But trust didn’t just return with a logical explanation, it had to be felt. Earned. And right now, her nerves were frayed, her body still humming from the intimacy of the night before, her mind recoiling from this new betrayal of reality.
“What are we gonna do?” she whispered at her wit’s end.
He cupped her face in his hands, his warm palms soothing her rattled senses. “First, we’re gonna take a breath.” She did exactly that, following his lead. “Then I’m gonna contact my team and get Haley working on this. She’ll find out who sent that video. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Okay,” she said, letting out another deep breath.
“And Savi? We are not going to let doubts stirred by an outsider destroy what’s between us. I love you, my Savi Moon. I have since we were kids. And nothing is ever gonna change that.”
She saw the sincerity in his eyes even as her pulse pounded so loudly in her ears she could hardly hear the words. Despite the quick wave of doubt she’d felt upon first seeing that video, she knew one thing for certain now. And it was undeniable. “I . . . I love you too.”
They lost themselves in the kiss, then in each other. Sawyer was right. She was not going to let doubts stirred by outsiders ruin this. That fragile thread of trust was stitched back together with something so strong it could never be broken.
Even though not everything was clear and there were still too many unanswered questions, the pieces were moving. They’d find the truth. Together.
Later, tangled in the sheets and each other’s arms, she let her head rest on his chest. His fingers stroked her back in lazy, comforting patterns.
She didn’t say the words. Neither did he.
But they lived in the silence between heartbeats, in the way he held her like she was his entire world, and in the way she let herself finally belong.