Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
JORDAN
Matt scoops up my oversized luggage with ease and carries it onto the train.
I tried to pack light. I really did. But I’m in Switzerland for a whole week with Matt, which means I need an outfit for basically every occasion—shopping, hiking, fancy dinners, the benefit. And it’s fall. Obviously I need layers.
I slide into the window seat and rest my head, already closing my eyes for the slow ride in. Matt settles beside me.
I’m tired. Flying on a private plane isn’t nearly as grueling as a regular international flight, but it’s still been a long day.
Just getting to this point since we landed feels like it’s taken hours.
The train picks up speed, and between the sway and the white noise, my head starts bobbing within minutes.
After the third head jerk, I give up and rest my head on Matt’s shoulder instead.
He already made fun of me earlier for falling asleep sitting up when there was a full bedroom in the back of the plane.
“Is this okay?” I murmur, eyes closing.
“Course it is.”
The weight of his hand lands on my thigh. He gives it a gentle pat, then leaves it there, resting. Something simple he’s done for decades, yet it’s never felt this heavy.
Because I’m not so sure I can run from it this time.
I can’t stop thinking. It’s like my brain never shuts up, just cycles through the same shit over and over. It starts with Matt and Cole, and then the marriage. How it all seems great. Friends coming together for a kid who lost his dad. It’s fine. All good.
Then my mind shifts to my family, and how I haven’t even begun to feel the devastation from that fallout.
Then it shifts into something else entirely.
Butterflies.
Heat in my chest.
Pure lust, rooted in history and weighted by the past.
That kiss.
The hot tub.
Watching Matt break down about his dad.
The guardian ad litem visit.
His hand that’s currently resting on my thigh.
Things have always felt a certain way with him. Like a smell or a taste that takes you back to a childhood memory. Nostalgia.
That’s Matt.
He’s comfort, and I always come back. The same way a child clings to their baby blanket or stuffed animal.
He brings me that same feeling—like if I could just wrap myself in him, breathe him in, taste him—everything would be okay.
I’ve tried so hard to break free from it. To be independent. To not need him.
To let him fly solo.
To not hold him back.
Because Matt thrives on his own. He always has.
He’s successful. Powerful. People respect him. They want to know him.
He doesn’t need me the way I need him.
We’re so different on the outside.
He’s organized and doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks.
I’m messy and care too much.
But at our core? We’re the same.
Expectations. Shame. Darkness. Our history embedded into us like stitching in a quilt.
So here I am, ten minutes out from Zermatt, with my security blanket.
My best friend.
My husband.
The last time we were here was right before our last and final breakup.
It was fun. Easy. Romantic.
You’d never know it by looking at Matt, but he’s romantic as hell. Thoughtful. So good at creating special moments.
We came right before Christmas. There was snow everywhere and it was freezing.
We spent our days skiing on the mountain, and our nights dressed up and out for dinner.
But the later hours were my favorite. We spent them in front of the fireplace, laughing, naked, wrapped in a sea of blankets, sipping champagne and eating chocolates and strawberries.
My chest flutters.
God, I miss that.
He asked me to move in again.
I finally said yes.
We even talked about getting married.
Then we came home.
And everything was slowly ripped away.
The beginning of the end.
His dad. My dad. His mom.
My dad had gotten out of prison a year earlier, and Matt and I went to a charity event together. His parents were there.
His dad was drunk and ended up making a pass at me. He grabbed my ass and whispered something about being more experienced in bed than Matt. How he could please me better. Something sick like that.
He wouldn’t let up. I was uncomfortable, and it started drawing attention. A crowd. A scene.
Matt noticed from across the room and made his way over fast, fury in his eyes.
He kept his cool, though.
Because that’s Matt. Level-headed. Smart.
He knew where he was.
He calmly pulled me out of his dad’s grip, said a few choice words, and turned to leave with me.
But no one humiliates Connor Grayson in public and gets away with it.
Matt lost the biggest deal of his life the next day. The one that would have landed him in Forbes eight years ago.
It was because of me.
And his mom made sure I knew it.
The tabloids went crazy. The comments were devastating. And it wrecked me.
I broke up with Matt two days later.
It was the second time I ever saw him cry.
His parents use my dad as an excuse to continue to hate me.
My family’s a disgrace. Demetriou trash.
That worked when I was younger.
But I know the truth.
His dad hates me because I turned him down. And his mom hates me because her husband’s a sick son of a bitch.
My family is difficult. Harsh, even. I’m not naive to that. They never liked the idea of me ending up with Matt. He’s not Greek. He’s not religious. And they’re rooted in tradition and faith.
But Matt’s family—his parents? They don’t just hate me. They’re powerful, ruthless, and willing to ruin anyone who gets in their way.
I was collateral damage in their scheme to make sure their son didn’t end up with me.
And that came with a cost.
Matt.
The train slows to a stop, and people start standing.
I lift my head. Matt’s asleep.
I nudge his shoulder. “Hey,” I whisper. “We’re here.”
His eyes crack open, a half-smile that’s barely there.
Then his gaze meets mine, and it hits me.
I’m in Zermatt.
My favorite city in the world.
With my favorite person.
By the time we get checked into the hotel, it’s already noon and I’m starving. Our room is incredible because—Matt. A suite at the Grand Hotel? This place is a dream.
I’m out on the balcony taking in the snowcapped Matterhorn, and God, it’s giving me life.
“Babe,” Matt calls out.
“Yeah?” I say, my back to him, still facing the mountains. I’m too awestruck. Too at peace. Too mesmerized to look away.
His voice gets closer. “You wanna grab lunch?”
I force my gaze away, turning to Matt—and my neck catches, pulling tight, pain shooting down my arm and into my head.
“Ah, shit.” I grip the muscle. “Fuck. I just pulled something.”
“You okay? Need me to rub it?”
“Fuuuuuck,” I whimper. “Not on the first day.”
Matt’s hands are already on my shoulders, kneading.
“Here,” he says. “Let’s loosen it up before we go. Then I’ll work my magic on it later tonight if it still hurts, alright?”
“Thank you.” I roll my neck gently as his hands massage the muscle. “I have a rub in my suitcase,” I add.
He chuckles low in my ear. “Of course you do. What don’t you have in there?”
“Um… A microwave. A blender. Snow pants. Do you really want to play that game?”
“Alright. I get it. You only packed what you needed.”
He gives my shoulder two playful squeezes. “Where’s the rub? I’ll grab it for you.”
“In my nighttime bag. It’s red and black.” I point aimlessly toward the suitcase like, good luck.
Matt unzips my luggage and starts pulling things out, setting them neatly on the bed.
“Holy shit,” he mutters.
“I heard that,” I call out.
“Wasn’t trying to hide it,” he fires back.
“Here, I can just get it—” I start toward him, but freeze when he turns around holding up one of the three vibrators I packed.
He cocks a brow, a smirk slowly forming. “Babe. I’ve seen a lot of vibrators in my life, but what the hell is this?”
I let out an exasperated sigh and snatch it from him. “It’s a flutter wand.” I point to the end. “Suction.” Then I tap the middle. “Tongue.” I flip it. “And the other end is normal. Like a dick.”
“Yeah?” His gaze drags over me. “You like it?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah. I do. That’s why I brought it.”
“Can I watch?”
I shove at his arm. “Don’t make this a thing, alright? If I could just easily get off with my hand like you can, I would.”
“You know whose hand could get you off?” he asks, every bit the teasing bastard that he is.
“Hmm, let me think.”
I toss the vibrator back in my suitcase with the others.
He laughs while I dig through my nighttime bag. I pull out the rub and hand it to him. “Here. Could you please put this on my shoulders and neck?”
“You got it.”
He spreads the rub between his fingers and starts working it into my skin. “You know,” he says, his voice dropping low, right at my ear. “If you wanted to get off so bad, you could have just asked.”
My stomach curls. It’s not even what he said. It’s his voice. It’s deep and sexy, and it pulls on memories I don’t want to think about.
I laugh it off. “Are you going to be a dick about this for the rest of the trip?”
He just chuckles, bringing his hand down on my ass with a light smack. “Let’s go eat.”
“What are you getting?” Matt asks me, looking up from his menu.
“I’m not sure. Everything sounds good. I can’t decide between the masala and the korma.” I scan the list of vegetable curries, half tempted to order one of everything because I’m starving. “But the palak looks good too.”
“Get one of each. We can share. Should we get some appetizers too?”
“Jesus. I have a dress I need to fit into in a few days,” I say with a smile.
“I’d be okay if it split open.”
I lift a brow at him. “Yeah. ’Cause that’d be sexy.”
He chuckles. “Skin is skin, baby.”
I laugh as my phone lights up and Matt’s dings.
It’s Cole. We started a group chat with him last week, and he’s been more lively than we expected.
Cole
Are you in Switzerland yet?
Matt starts typing, and I wait anxiously for his text to come through even though he’s sitting across from me.
Matt
Yep. Just sat down for lunch. What are you doing?