Chapter 45 #2
Kate’s expression was softer than Lena’s, more thoughtful, understanding in her eyes. “Zach doesn’t do casual contact. Nothing is an accident with him.”
Emma knew that. Zach moved through the world like he was surrounded by an invisible barrier, maintaining a careful distance from almost everyone.
She’d seen him go entire days without touching another person, communicating through words and looks, and body language that somehow said more than anything else ever could.
But he’d touched her. In front of his brothers. In front of everyone. For him, that was a blatant claim.
“Okay,” Emma sank into a chair. “Maybe it was something.”
“There it is,” Lena crowed.
Despite everything—the exhaustion, the residual adrenaline, the sheer surreal quality of the last twenty-four hours—Emma had to smile.
“Ooh, wait—you’re family now!” Lena exclaimed.
Emma furrowed her brow in confusion. She and Lena had been family for years, since they met in high school. “Um, Lena, we’ve been family forever.”
“Yes, my family. But now you’re Ivory family.”
A flash of understanding crossed Kate’s face, and she started laughing. Hysterically. What was she missing?
“Let’s not rush things. Zach and I may be trying, but we haven’t talked futures or anything.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” Lena said blithely. “You’ve been accepted into the family. That means…”
She and Kate exchanged glances before they chorused, “Family Training!”
“Family training?” A curl of unease flickered to life. Kate and Lena were finding this way too funny. This could not be good.
“Yup. Family Training, led by Drill Sergeant Zach.” Lena chirped.
“You mean like the self-defense he’s been teaching me?” How was this funny?
“Yes.” Lena nodded.
“Okay…”
“It’s weekly wherever Zach is.” Kate said.
“Okay…” She was definitely missing something.
“Sundays,” Kate continued.
“5 am.” Lena added helpfully.
Emma blinked, looked between the two of them. “You’re telling me Zach runs drills for the family members every Sunday at 5 am?”
“Yup. No excuses accepted. We’re all there.”
“Oh, fuck me,” she slumped back in her chair. Now she understood their laughter.
Eventually, the girls stopped giggling enough to speak.
“So,” Lena leaned back with the air of someone preparing for story time. “Are we going to talk about what happened?”
The smile faded. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” Lena gestured. “The storm. The artifact. The whole dramatic weather event that decided to throw a temper tantrum right over Ivory Island. Word is it got pretty intense.”
Emma hesitated. How much had the men told Kate and Lena? How much could she tell them?
“It was… complicated,” she said finally.
“Emma,” Kate shifted forward in her seat, her expression open and patient. “I saw you.”
Everything in Emma went still. “What?”
“In a dream,” Kate continued. Her voice was soft, matter-of-fact, the way someone might describe where they had left their keys. “Last night. I saw you standing in the middle of a storm.”
Emma’s throat went dry.
“You weren’t running from it,” Kate said. “You weren’t hiding. You were just… standing there. In the center of it all, but untouched by it.” She paused. “And then—”
“It stopped,” Emma whispered.
Kate nodded slowly. “You weren’t in the storm. You were—”
“Controlling it.”
Silence filled the room.
Lena went still, her usual playful expression replaced by something sharper, more focused. “Okay. So we’re adding ‘storm control’ to the skill set? Right next to ‘excellent organizational skills’ and ‘proficiency in Microsoft Office?’”
Despite herself, Emma huffed a small laugh. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?” Lena asked, tone curious.
Emma stood and moved to the window. Outside, the island continued its recovery. Staff moved with purpose, debris disappeared, order reasserted itself.
How did she explain this?
“Ana-Luz gave me something,” she said finally. “A coin. She called it a memory. Told me the tale of an ancient island artifact that could control the air. The Windstone.”
Behind her, she heard Kate draw in a sharp breath.
“You used it,” Kate said. Not a question.
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even know what it was, only that it might help.” Emma turned back to face them. “When the storm came—when everything went wrong—I just… held it. And asked for help.”
“Asked who?” Lena said.
“I don’t know. The wind? The storm? The island?” Emma shook her head. “It sounds insane.”
“The wind answered you,” Lena said.
“Something like that.” Emma reached into her pocket, brushing the folded note. “When it was over, the Windstone… dissolved. It turned to dust in my hand.”
They quieted for a moment, the weight of it settling over all three of them.
“So,” Lena said eventually. “To summarize: you stopped a supernatural storm with a magic rock, saved everyone on the island, and got the guy. Solid week.”
Despite everything, Emma laughed, releasing some of the tension knotted in her shoulders.
“Something like that,” she agreed.
Lena’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “I’m glad you’re okay. Both of you.”
Emma thought of Zach’s fingers on her wrist. Of the way he’d looked at her in the cottage, like she was the only stable thing in a shifting world. “Yeah, me too.”
“Have you guys talked?” Kate asked. “About what happens now?”
Emma shook her head. “There hasn’t been time.”
“Make time,” Lena said firmly. “The man publicly claimed you with the wrist thing. In Zach Steele language, that was a skywriter proposal.”
Heat crept into her cheeks again, but she didn’t look away. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it though?” Lena tilted her head, expression knowing.
“Look, I get it. You’re both professionals.
You’ve got a resort to run, security to manage, fallout from a psychopath to handle.
But Emma—” She paused, making sure she had Emma’s full attention.
“The man doesn’t do anything by accident.
If he touched you in front of his brothers, he meant it. ”
Kate nodded. “Lena’s right. Zach isn’t impulsive. Every action is calculated, intentional.”
“Which means he wanted us to see it. Wanted everyone to know.”
Lena's words settled over Emma like a blanket—warm and slightly overwhelming.
She thought back to the moment in the cottage when Zach looked at her and said, ‘I can't lose you either.’ The rawness in his voice.
The way his carefully constructed walls cracked enough to let her understand what was underneath.
He’d meant it then. He meant it now.
“Okay,” Emma slumped back into her chair. “So what do I do?”
“You talk to him,” Kate said simply.
“Be honest,” Lena added. “If there’s one thing I know about Zach Steele, it’s that he values truth above everything else. Don’t hedge. Tell him what you want.”
Emma closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself acknowledge the truth she’d been circling around for weeks, maybe longer.
She wanted him.
Not the physical attraction—though God knew that had been blatant from the beginning, simmering under every interaction. She wanted more. The quiet moments in his office, the way he listened to her ideas without interruption. His dry humor and unexpected protectiveness.
She wanted to be the person allowed behind his walls, who knew what made him smile.
She wanted to be someone he came home to.
“Okay,” she opened her eyes. “I know what I want.”
Lena’s grin was immediate and triumphant. “There she is.”
“But,” Emma continued, “it’s complicated. We work together. His brothers are my bosses. The resort opening, a million logistical nightmares—”
“Life is always complicated,” Kate interrupted gently.
“There will always be a reason to wait, to be practical, to put it off until the timing is better.” She leaned closer to her camera.
“But Emma? The timing is never perfect. And from what I saw in my dream—from what you just told us about the storm—you’re not someone who waits for permission. ”
The words hit something deep in Emma’s chest. She thought of herself standing in the wind, the Windstone in her palm, asking—no, commanding—the storm to stop.
Kate was right. She had changed. Something fundamental shifted in her during those moments, and she couldn’t go back to being the person who second-guessed relationships at every turn.
Whatever came next, it would include Zach. She wasn’t letting him go.
“So,” Lena said, her tone shifting to something more practical.
“Game plan. You finish sorting the resort. You make sure everyone is safe and operations are stable. And then—” she pointed at Emma through the screen.
“—you find Zach and you have an actual conversation. No interruptions, no emergencies, no brothers barging in. Only the two of you.”
Emma nodded, and something settled in her chest. A decision made, a path chosen. “Okay, I can do that.”
“Good,” Lena sat back, satisfied. “Now, let's change topics before I get too invested in your love life—what’s the plan for the groundskeeper? Is he the last? Is it over?”
The shift was jarring but necessary. Emma straightened in her chair, reverting to professional mode.
“Zach thinks so,” Emma said.
Lena’s expression gentled. “Seriously, Em. Take care of yourself. You survived something traumatic. Make sure you’re processing it.”
“I am,” it was true. She felt steady. Grounded. The storm—both literal and metaphorical—had passed, and she was still standing.
Stronger than before.
They exchanged a few more pleasantries—Lena made one more joke about melting Zach’s 'glacier heart,' Kate admonished Emma to eat something—and then the screens went dark.
Emma sat in the quiet conference room for a long moment, processing.
The storm was over. The resort was recovering.
Zach touched her wrist in front of everyone.
He hadn't needed to. But he did it.