Chapter 8
Enzo
Remy’s been at Jacobs Security for six weeks, and I’m losing my fucking mind.
It’s not just me. A few times, Ansel has stared at her in meetings until I kick him under the table. Breck finds excuses to stop by her office at least three times a day. And me? I’ve taken to working late to catch glimpses of her when she’s too focused on code to notice I’m staring.
We don’t talk about it. The three of us have this unspoken agreement to pretend like we don’t want her.
The almost-kiss at the bar between Remy and Breck changed everything and nothing. Remy accepted the job, threw herself into work with single-minded focus, and maintains professional distance from all three of us.
She’s polite, brilliant, and completely untouchable.
It’s driving me insane.
We’ve restructured Damon’s projects to minimize his contact with Remy. He’s been sullen about it, making snide comments when he thinks we’re not listening. But watching how he treats her—the barely concealed hostility, how he undermines her in meetings—has started to shift my perspective.
Maybe she wasn’t the problem in their relationship. Maybe he was.
Remy’s waiting outside her building when Joshua and I pull up at five a.m. for the business trip we are taking together. Alone.
Even in the pre-dawn darkness, I can see she’s dressed in dark jeans and a fitted blazer, laptop bag already slung over her shoulder.
She climbs into the SUV, sitting next to me, stifling a yawn. “This is inhumane.”
“Blame Montana.” I pass her the extra coffee I brought. “Black, no sugar.”
Her fingers brush mine as she takes it. “Thanks.”
One of our largest clients in Montana has a potential breach in its financial systems. The contract is too valuable and the problem too complex to hand off to our team, so Remy and I are flying out to handle it.
This should be a quick trip—fly out, assess the breach, and fly back tonight. In and out.
The drive to the airport is quiet. Remy reviews the client files on her tablet while I pretend to check emails. Really, I’m hyperaware of every movement she makes, every time she moves in her seat, how she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s concentrating.
It’s been weeks of this tension, and I still haven’t figured out how to turn it off.
The regional airport in Montana is so small it barely qualifies as an airport. One runway, one building, and a parking lot with six spaces.
Our pilot, Tomas, checks the weather on his tablet as we prepare to land. He glances back at us. “The storm system is moving in faster than predicted. We’ll need to leave by three at the latest to get ahead of it.”
Remy nods, already pulling up the meeting schedule on her phone. “We can make that work.”
The client meeting goes smoothly. Remy walks them through the breach assessment with her usual combination of technical brilliance and accessibility.
She doesn’t talk down to them, and she doesn’t make them feel incompetent for missing the vulnerability.
By the time we’re done, they’re looking at her like she’s their personal savior.
And I get it.
We’re back at the airport by two o’clock, ahead of schedule. Tomas is already doing pre-flight checks when we arrive. Then he emerges from the cockpit, his features grim.
“We’ve got a problem.” My stomach drops. “Hydraulic fault. The gauge has been fluctuating all day, but now it’s showing critical. I can’t fly like this. I’ve already called for a mechanic, but with the storms coming in, nobody can get here until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”
Remy looks out the window at the darkening sky. “So, we’re stuck here.”
Tomas pulls out his phone. “Looks that way. I’ll coordinate with the crew and find us hotels for the night.”
“I’ll have Sherina take care of it, Tomas,” I tell the pilot. He has enough to worry about without having to book hotels.
I dial our executive assistant while Tomas makes a call to a mechanic. She answers on the second ring, and I explain the situation. Fifteen minutes turn into twenty, and when she calls back, her pitch is apologetic.
“Bad news. There’s a ranching convention in town this week. Everything’s booked solid. I managed to get three rooms for Tomas and the crew at a hotel ten miles from the airport, but the only option for you and Miss Ray is a bed-and-breakfast twenty miles out. They have two rooms left.”
“Book them.”
“Already done. I’m texting you the address now.”
I end the call and turn to Remy. “We’re staying at a bed and breakfast. Sherina booked us two rooms.”
Remy raises an eyebrow. “A bed and breakfast? That’s very... quaint.” She pauses. “I assume there will be doilies. Possibly a cat named something like Whiskers or Chairman Meow.”
I smirk. “Blame the ranching convention.”
She laughs, and I forget what we were talking about. Fuck, I need to get my shit together before I do something stupid.
Luckily, we still have the rental car. The drive to the bed and breakfast takes us through fields and mountains, the landscape growing more rural with each mile. Remy watches out the window, and I catch myself glancing at her reflection in the glass more than I watch the road.
The bed and breakfast is a converted farmhouse surrounded by open land.
The innkeeper—a woman in her sixties with kind eyes and flour on her apron—greets us at the door. “You must be the folks with the plane trouble! Come in, come in. I’m Kelly. Your assistant called ahead.”
I confirm what should be waiting for us. “Right. Sherina booked two rooms.”
Kelly’s smile falters. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid we had some miscommunication on our end. The guests who were staying in the second room booked for an extra night, and our front desk clerk didn’t make the changes in the system. So, we only have one room available.”
Remy and I exchange a glance.
I repeat her answer flatly. “One room.”
“Yes, but it’s our largest room! King-sized bed, private bathroom, and beautiful mountain views. And I promise the bed is very comfortable.”
One bed. One room. Remy and me. For an entire night.
Remy’s response is no-nonsense. “It’s fine. We’ll make it work.”
No. It’s not fine. Nothing about this is fine. But I nod anyway, because what other choice do we have?
Kelly grabs two toiletry kits, knowing we are stranded without overnight necessities, and leads us upstairs to a room that is, admittedly, beautiful.
Hardwood floors, antique furniture, and massive windows overlooking snow-capped mountains.
And right in the center, a large bed with a white quilt and too many decorative pillows.
Kelly closes the door behind her. “I’ll leave you two to get settled. Dinner is at seven, if you’re hungry.”
Remy sets her bag down and surveys the room. Her gaze lands on the loveseat in the corner.
I gesture to the so-called furniture. “I’ll take the couch.”
She walks over and examines it. “You think you’ll fit on that? That’s adorable.”
“I’ll manage.”
“You’re six-foot-three. That thing is maybe five feet long.” She crosses her arms. “That’ll work great. You can just tuck your knees under your chin and hope for the best. If nothing else, it should be entertaining.”
“I’ve slept in worse places.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I don’t want to know.”
I scoff. “Fine. I’ll take the floor.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Or you could just sleep in the bed next to me like a normal person. Unless you’re planning to make it weird? Are you going to make this weird, Enzo?”
I like her like this—playful, unguarded.
But every cell in my body is screaming that sharing a bed with Remy Ray is a bad decision.
“Nothing about me is weird.” I roll my shoulders. “I’m taking the left side.”
“Like hell you are.” She throws a pillow at me. “I called it first.”
I catch the pillow mid-air, laughing. “You didn’t call anything.”
“I thought it. That counts.” She’s already claiming the left side, sitting on the edge. “Right side is all yours, big guy.”
And, of course, I am going to let her have her way.
Dinner is awkward. Kelly serves pot roast and homemade bread while making cheerful conversation.
Remy handles it with grace, asking questions and laughing at Kelly’s stories like we’re not about to spend the night in the same bed.
I push food around my plate and try not to think about what happens once dinner ends.
By nine o’clock, exhaustion is setting in, and we are settled back in the room. The adrenaline from the emergency client meeting, the stress of being stranded, and the constant awareness of Remy sitting across from me… It’s all catching up.
Remy stands, grabbing her bag. “I’m going to shower. Unless you want to go first?”
“Go ahead.”
She disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the water start.
I sit on the edge of the bed, head in my hands. Remy is ten feet away. Naked. Water running over her skin. And I’m supposed to sleep next to her tonight like it’s nothing.
My body doesn’t get the memo. Blood rushes to my dick.
I need to think about anything else. Quarterly reports. Server configurations. That time Breck got food poisoning from bad sushi.
It’s not working.
I stand up and pace to the window, putting distance between myself and the bathroom door. Cold air. I need cold air. I crack the window open and take a deep breath, willing my body to calm down.
Twenty minutes later, Remy emerges in an oversized robe from the closet with her hair damp and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. The robe swallows her frame, and I’m staring again.
She climbs into bed and pulls the covers up. “Bathroom is all yours.”
“Please tell me there’s another robe.” We weren’t expecting to stay overnight, so neither of us has pajamas.
“There’s not.” She fluffs the pillow behind her head. “You’ll survive sleeping in your underwear for one night.”
I stand there like an idiot, trying to figure out my options.
She finally looks at me. “We’re adults, Enzo. I’ve seen men in less clothing at the gym. We’ll put a pillow between us.”
I clear my throat. “I sleep light. Don’t—”