8. Christian/ Scarlett
8
CHRISTIAN/ SCARLETT
CHRISTIAN
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office.
The Luxe article had been dealt with—at least on the surface.
My PR team had handled it with the precision of a well-oiled machine, pushing out a carefully crafted narrative that countered the damage.
Calls had been made, favors pulled. The article was losing traction, and Scarlett’s reputation wouldn’t suffer a lasting hit.
But that didn’t change the fact that it had rattled her.
She wasn’t the type to let people see when she was shaken, but I’d seen it. In the tightness of her jaw.
The way she avoided my eyes when I told her I’d take care of it.
She was grateful, but she wasn’t used to someone stepping in for her. She’d spent too long fighting her own battles.
And I hated that.
I ran a hand down my face, exhaling hard.
She needed a break. And so did I.
I grabbed my phone and shot her a text.
Me: Come away with me this weekend.
I stared at the screen, waiting for the little dots to appear.
When they didn’t, I added:
Me: Somewhere quiet. No press, no bullshit. Just us.
A few seconds later, my phone vibrated.
Scarlett: Christian…
I could already hear her hesitance. Could see the way she’d bite her lip, debating.
Me: Say yes.
A long pause. Then?—
Scarlett: Where?
A smirk pulled at my lips.
Me: Surprise.
She left me on read, but I knew she was thinking about it. And I also knew she’d say yes.
I made the arrangements in record time. A lake house my family owned, a few hours outside the city, secluded and quiet.
A place where no one would bother us. Where she could breathe. Where I could have her all to myself.
Two days.
That was all I wanted.
Two days to show her that what was happening between us was real.
Scarlett met me at a small private airstrip just after sunset.
She stepped out of the car, her bag slung over her shoulder, looking more beautiful than she had any right to.
Casual, simple—ripped jeans, an off-the-shoulder sweater that hinted at smooth skin underneath—but stunning.
I opened the plane door for her, watching as she hesitated at the bottom of the steps.
“You still have time to run,” I teased.
Her lips twitched. “I thought you said it was a surprise.”
“It is.”
“Then why does this feel like an abduction?”
I grinned, placing a hand over my chest. “Scarlett Lane, are you accusing me of kidnapping?”
She rolled her eyes but took the steps, brushing past me as she stepped inside.
I followed, shutting the door behind us.
The flight was short. Scarlett was quiet, looking out the window, her fingers curled around the stem of her champagne glass.
I let her have her space, watching her, the way the dim cabin lights softened her features, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear absentmindedly.
She was still carrying the weight of everything that had happened this past week. And she was trying to act like she wasn’t.
I intended to change that.
The lake house was tucked away in the mountains, hidden from the world by towering trees and winding roads.
Scarlett stepped out of the car and looked around, the cool night air ruffling her hair. “Wow.”
I came up behind her. “Not bad, right?”
She turned to me, her arms crossing. “You own this?”
“My family does.”
“Of course.” She huffed out a breath, shaking her head. “Must be nice.”
I tilted my head, watching her. “You say that like I didn’t spend the past two weeks in back-to-back meetings dealing with corporate bullshit.”
She smirked. “Poor billionaire. Sounds exhausting.”
I grinned. “It is.”
I reached for her hand before I could think twice about it, my fingers lacing through hers.
She could’ve pulled away.
She didn’t.
Instead, she let me lead her inside.
The fire was already lit when we stepped into the great room, flames crackling, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors.
The place was warm, comfortable—designed to be a retreat from the world.
Scarlett walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the dark expanse beyond. “It’s so quiet.”
“Too quiet?”
“No. Just… different.”
I came up behind her, close but not touching. “That’s the point.”
She turned to me, her expression unreadable. “And what exactly is the point, Christian?”
Her voice was soft, but there was a challenge in it.
I reached out, brushing my fingers over a stray curl at her shoulder.
“The point?” I murmured. “To get you out of your head. To remind you that you deserve to take a breath. That not everything has to be a fight.”
She exhaled slowly, like she wanted to believe me but wasn’t sure how.
So I did the only thing I could.
I kissed her.
Her breath hitched the second my lips brushed hers.
I felt the tension in her body, the way she hesitated for just a fraction of a second before she melted into me.
I wasn’t gentle this time.
This wasn’t the careful, restrained kiss I’d given her outside her apartment.
This was hunger, barely leashed. A taste of everything I’d been holding back.
Scarlett made a sound in the back of her throat, her hands gripping my shirt as she pulled me closer.
I slid a hand into her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, feeling the way she pressed against me, the way her body molded perfectly to mine.
It would be so easy to keep going.
To lose myself in her.
To forget every reason why I needed to take this slow.
Instead, I forced myself to pull back.
Scarlett’s lips were swollen, her breath uneven. She blinked up at me, dazed. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”
I smirked. “So I’ve been told.”
She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.
I ran my thumb along her jaw. “Come on. Let’s eat.”
Scarlett arched a brow. “You cooked?”
“God, no. I’d like to keep my dignity.”
She laughed again, and I felt something tighten in my chest.
The stress, the exhaustion—it had faded from her face. And that? That was exactly why I’d brought her here.
For this moment.
For her. And for whatever came next.
SCARLETT
I woke to the scent of pine and crisp mountain air, the sound of birds calling over the lake. It was peaceful here—too peaceful.
I wasn’t used to this kind of quiet.
The city was my home, the constant hum of traffic and distant chatter my background noise.
Even Amélie, during its slowest hours, carried the familiar sounds of life—clattering plates, murmured conversations, the sizzle of something cooking.
Here, surrounded by nature, it was almost unnerving. But it was also… freeing.
I stretched, rolling onto my side, only to find the bed beside me empty.
Christian.
I sat up, tucking my knees to my chest as I glanced at the clock.
He’d mentioned something about an early morning hike last night, but I’d been half-asleep at the time, too comfortable to question it.
I pushed off the covers, slipping into a sweater and leggings before padding barefoot across the hardwood floors.
Downstairs, I found Christian on the deck, already dressed in hiking gear, two cups of coffee in hand.
He turned when he heard me, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Good morning.”
I rubbed my arms, trying to shake off the morning chill. “We’re really doing this, huh?”
He stepped closer, handing me a cup. “You promised.”
I scoffed. “I don’t remember promising anything.”
Christian sipped his coffee, eyes amused. “You were half-asleep, but you definitely agreed.”
“Lies.”
“Do you really want to argue with me before caffeine?”
I narrowed my eyes, but I took a sip. It was rich, bold—exactly the way I liked it.
“Fine. But if I die halfway up a mountain, I’m haunting you,” I told him.
His lips curved. “Noted.”
The trail wound through thick trees, the scent of earth and pine surrounding us as we climbed higher.
Christian set a steady pace, though he occasionally glanced back to check on me, his expression unreadable.
I focused on the crunch of leaves beneath my boots, the rhythmic motion of moving forward, but my thoughts kept drifting.
To the article.
To the whispers that had followed.
To the way Christian had stepped in so seamlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world to defend me.
I glanced at him, his sharp profile outlined by the early morning light.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
Christian didn’t break stride. “Doing what?”
“This.” I gestured vaguely around us. “Taking me away from the city. Trying to… I don’t know. Fix things.”
He was quiet for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Because I can.”
I frowned. “That’s not an answer.”
He slowed his pace, turning to face me. “I know you, Scarlett. You’ll try to fight this on your own. You’ll act like it doesn’t bother you, like you don’t care. But you do.”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t need saving.”
“I know.” His gaze was steady. “But that doesn’t mean you have to do everything alone.”
Something in my chest tightened.
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
So I didn’t.
Instead, I walked past him, continuing up the trail.
If he noticed my silence, he didn’t push.
But I felt his presence beside me the whole way up.
The view from the top was breathtaking.
The lake stretched out below us, shimmering under the sun, framed by towering evergreens.
It was the kind of view people wrote about, painted, dreamed of. I crossed my arms, inhaling deeply.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.
Christian stepped beside me, his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. It is.”
Something about the way he said it made me glance at him, my stomach flipping when I realized he wasn’t looking at the view—he was looking at me.
My pulse skipped.
I swallowed. “You’re really insufferable, you know that?”
His lips twitched. “I’ve heard that before.”
I rolled my eyes, turning back toward the lake.
I didn’t realize he’d moved closer until I felt the heat of him at my back.
Slow. Deliberate.
His fingers brushed my wrist, barely a touch, but I felt it everywhere.
“Scarlett,” he murmured.
I turned my head just as he leaned in, his breath warm against my skin.
This time, I didn’t stop him.
I kissed him first.
Dinner was simple—grilled fish, roasted vegetables, a bottle of wine we barely touched.
The tension between us had been simmering all day, a slow burn I wasn’t sure how to handle.
I wasn’t used to wanting someone like this.
Not just the physical part—the weight of his gaze, the way my body responded to him—but the way he made me feel seen .
And that scared me.
Because I wanted more.
We cleared the dishes in silence, the air thick with unspoken words.
When I turned to face him, he was already watching me, his expression unreadable.
My heart pounded.
I stepped closer.
So did he.
Neither of us spoke as he reached for me, his fingers trailing down my arm, slow, deliberate.
I shivered.
His lips brushed my temple, my cheekbone, the corner of my mouth—everywhere but where I wanted them.
“Christian,” I whispered.
A low sound rumbled in his chest.
Then he kissed me.
Hard.
His hands slid into my hair, tilting my head back as he pressed me against the counter, his body flush against mine.
I gasped, my fingers fisting in his shirt.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against mine, sending heat rushing through me.
I was unraveling, piece by piece.
And I wanted to unravel.
I tugged at his shirt, impatient, desperate for more, but he caught my wrists, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes.
“Are you sure?” Christian asked.
God, how was he still this controlled?
I exhaled shakily. “Yes.”