Chapter 16 #2
I stay there for a long moment, and she takes the rest of me.
Then I move down on top of her, both of us catching our breath, my weight braced carefully above her so I do not crush her beneath me.
When my breathing finally evens out, I ease myself from her gently and roll to the side, pulling her with me until she is tucked against my chest, one of her legs draped over mine.
I reach down and drag the sheet up over both of us, the cool cotton settling against overheated skin, and press a slow kiss to the top of her head.
She sighs against my chest, her hand finding its familiar place over my heart, and I feel the last of the tension leave her body entirely as she settles deeper into the curve of me.
The moonlight continues its slow crawl across the room, silvering the edge of the bed, and I tighten my arm around her, holding her close as her breathing slows into something even and unhurried.
I press one more kiss to her hair, feeling my own eyes grow heavy, and let sleep pull both of us under together, tangled beneath the sheets, wrapped in the quiet dark of the room.
***
Morning light is beginning to press through the curtains when I wake.
For a few seconds, I don’t move. Sophie is asleep beside me, lying on her stomach with one arm tucked beneath the pillow and the sheet tangled low around her body.
Her hair is spread across the white linen, dark against the pale fabric, and one bare shoulder catches the first muted light coming off the lake.
I watch her breathe. The room is completely still.
More surprising is the absence of noise inside my own head.
There is no schedule running through it.
No meeting waiting to be rearranged. No list of decisions already forming before I have even gotten out of bed.
I cannot remember the last time I woke without immediately reaching for a phone, a clock, or some problem that needed solving.
I simply lie there beside her. She shifts slightly in her sleep, moving closer without waking, and something in my chest tightens at the unconscious ease of it.
Last night comes back in fragments and my dick attempts to awake before I can get a grip on myself.
I force myself out of bed before I undo the little sleep either of us managed to get.
I use the bathroom, splash cold water over my face, and take a few minutes longer than necessary before returning to the bedroom.
Sophie is awake now, her blue eyes sparkling from the morning light that has filled the room.. She has rolled onto her back and pulled the sheet across herself, though her eyes are still heavy with sleep. She watches me cross the room.
“Are you leaving?”
The question is quiet, but I know exactly what she means.
Boston.
I stop beside the bed.
“No.”
Her expression softens slightly.
“I thought maybe you were doing the disappearing act again.”
“I’m not.”
I sit on the edge of the mattress and lean down to kiss her. Sophie’s hand slides behind my neck, keeping me there for another second before I pull back.
“I made plans for us today,” I tell her.
She blinks. “Plans?”
“After breakfast.”
Her mouth curves. “Should I be worried?”
“Probably.”
That earns a tired smile.
“I thought we could take the boat out,” I continue.
“You haven’t actually seen much of the lake yet. We can stop in Bellagio, maybe Como if you want, or stay on the water and decide as we go.”
She studies me for a moment.
“No interview?”
“Not this morning.”
“No laptop?”
“No.”
“You’re voluntarily taking time off?”
“I didn’t say anything that dramatic.”
She laughs softly. The sound makes me want to climb back into bed and forget every plan I have just made, as I fuck her senselessly. I kiss her again instead, and when I pull away, she is still smiling.
“Breakfast downstairs in an hour,” I tell her.
“That gives you time to shower and get ready.”
“And you?”
“I should probably put on clothes before Clive finds me wandering around the estate like this.”
Her gaze drifts over me with enough intention that I feel the effect immediately.
“That would probably be wise,” she says.
I look at her for another second before standing.
“An hour, Sophie.”
“I heard you.”
I leave before my self-control changes its mind.
My room is quiet when I walk in, and the first thing I see is my phone on the desk where I left it the night before. The screen is full. Missed calls. Messages. Email notifications stacked one after another.
Vivian.
Adrian.
Daniel.
Several members of the New York legal team.
I pick up the phone and scan the subject lines. The issue Vivian flagged in Milan has clearly moved beyond an early review. There are references to outside counsel, document requests, internal exposure assessments, and an urgent leadership call that happened while I was asleep.
I open one message from Adrian.
Adrian: Call me when you get this. This is moving faster than we expected.
Another from Vivian follows beneath it.
Vivian: Legal has this contained for now. I’ll brief you when you’re available.
I read through enough of the thread to understand that no decision currently requires me.
Every instinct I have tells me to call New York anyway, to take control before someone else mishandles something.
To spend the next three hours inside a conference call until I understand every possible outcome.
I look toward the window instead. Beyond the glass, the lake is brightening beneath a clear blue sky.
My executive team is already handling the situation. For once, I decide to let them. I hold down the power button until the screen goes black, set the phone back on the desk, and walk toward the shower. When I head downstairs for breakfast, I leave it there.
By late morning, the lake looks almost unreal beneath a cloudless blue sky, the sunlight turning the water into shifting bands of sapphire and silver.
After breakfast, Sophie and I take the boat toward Bellagio with no interview scheduled, no notebook between us, and, for once, no reason to watch the clock.
Sophie insists on walking without an itinerary as soon as we reach Bellagio, pulling me into narrow streets lined with cafés, small shops, and stone stairways climbing away from the waterfront.
She buys a pair of sunglasses she does not need, persuades me to drink limoncello considerably earlier than I normally would, and laughs when I tell her I am beginning to question the wisdom of giving her an unscheduled day.
“You’re the one who planned the day off,” Sophie reminds me as she lifts her glass.
“I’m reconsidering.”
She smiles. “You’re terrible at this.”
“At what?” I ask.
“Having fun without controlling it.”
I look at her over the rim of my glass. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You are,” Sophie concedes, still smiling.
“I suppose that counts as progress.”
That becomes the rhythm of the day. We walk along the waterfront, stop for another drink, and eventually take the boat farther south toward Como.
Sophie leans against the rail while the wind moves through her dark hair, and every few minutes she turns toward me with an observation, a joke, or a question that has nothing to do with Blackwell Technologies, deadlines, or the article.
I answer every one of them. Somewhere between Bellagio and Como, I stop thinking about the phone I deliberately left behind.
We spend another hour walking through Como, stopping for coffee and wandering through the streets before returning to the boat.
Sophie sits close beside me on the ride back, our shoulders touching whenever the boat shifts beneath us.
At one point, she laughs at something I say and rests her hand briefly on my thigh without seeming to think about it.
I notice. I notice every time she touches me.
By the time the estate comes back into view, the sun has dropped lower over the mountains, casting long streaks of gold across the water. Dinner is less than two hours away when the boat slows beside the private dock.
Clive is already waiting for us. The expression on his face tells me something has changed before he says a word.
“Mr. Blackwell,” Clive says as I step onto the pier.
“There have been several calls for you.”
I turn and offer Sophie my hand, helping her from the boat before looking back at him.
“From whom?” I ask.
“Mr. Adrian, Ms. Cross, and Daniel. There were also two other calls from New York.”
Sophie glances at me, and I can see the question in her eyes.
“Thank you, Clive,” I say.
Clive nods and steps aside to speak with the boat captain while I turn toward Sophie.
“Dinner will be ready in about two hours,” I tell her.
“I’ll meet you in the dining room.”
Her gaze remains on mine.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’ll know in a few minutes.”
Sophie studies my face, but she does not push.
“All right,” she says. “I’ll see you in two hours.”
“I’ll see you then.”
I watch her head toward the house before going upstairs.
My phone is exactly where I left it that morning, sitting on the nightstand beside the bed.
The moment I turn it on, notifications begin filling the screen.
There are multiple missed calls from Adrian, several from Vivian, messages from Daniel, and more emails than I can count without opening the inbox.
I carry the phone into the home office and close the door behind me. Adrian’s first voicemail is almost six hours old.
Adrian: “Julian, call me when you get this,” he says.
The second message is considerably less patient.
Adrian: “Where the hell are you? Call me.”
By the third message, the irritation in his voice has been replaced by something more serious.
Adrian: “This is moving, Julian. Vivian has Legal on it, but I need you briefed before somebody outside the company decides the timeline for us. Call me as soon as you get this.”