Chapter 24 Phoenix
PHOENIX
She looks like a fallen angel standing in the middle of my cabin.
The emerald silk is wrinkled now, crushed from the car ride. Her dark hair has come loose from its careful styling, tumbling around her shoulders in wild waves. The diamond studs still glitter at her ears, catching the dim light from the single overhead fixture.
She's furious and terrified and so goddamn beautiful it hurts to look at her.
And she's mine. Whether she accepts it yet or not.
"This is it?" She turns in a slow circle, taking in the space. "This is where you're keeping me prisoner?"
"I'm not keeping you prisoner. I'm giving us time to talk."
"Without my consent. Without my phone. In the middle of nowhere." She laughs, and the sound is sharp enough to cut. "That's the definition of prisoner, Phoenix."
I don't argue. She's not entirely wrong.
The cabin is small—a studio, really. One room with a kitchenette along the back wall, a queen bed tucked into the corner, a two-person sofa facing a wood-burning stove, and a door that leads to the only bathroom.
Rustic but clean. My grandfather built it decades ago, back when the Crawford fortune was still new and a mountain retreat meant something simple.
Now my parents wouldn't be caught dead here. It’s too small and rustic. Too far from anything that matters.
Which makes it perfect for what I need.
"It's a family property," I say, shrugging off my jacket. "No one uses it anymore. Too cramped for my mother's tastes."
Jade's arms are crossed tight over her chest, her body a wall of defensive fury. "How long?"
"How long what?"
"Don't play stupid." Her dark eyes blaze. "How long are you planning to keep me here?"
I meet her gaze and hold it. "Seven days."
She stares at me. Then she laughs. She sounds bitter and broken and that makes me sad for a moment.
"Seven days," she repeats. "The same deal as Malibu. Is that your magic number? Seven days to manipulate a woman into submission?"
"Seven days to prove this is real."
"Prove what's real? That you're a controlling psychopath? Mission accomplished."
I take a step toward her. She takes a step back.
"Seven days," I say slowly, "to show you that what I feel for you has nothing to do with that dinner. Nothing to do with investors or business deals or any of the bullshit Marcus was spewing."
"Then what does it have to do with?"
"You." I take another step forward. She takes another one back. "Just you. It's always been you."
Her back hits the wall. She has nowhere else to go.
I stop, leaving a foot of space between us. Close enough to see the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. Close enough to smell her perfume, faded now but still there beneath the scent of fear and fury.
"I love you," I say.
She flinches like I've slapped her.
"Don't." Her voice is a whisper. "Don't you dare say that to me right now."
"It's true."
"I don't care if it's true!" The words explode out of her.
"This isn't how you prove love, Phoenix!
You don't kidnap someone. You don't trap them in a cabin in the woods.
You don't take away their phone and their choices and their ability to leave.
" She's shaking now, trembling with rage and fear.
"This is how you prove you're insane. This is how you prove you're exactly what my mother warned me about. "
The mention of Sydney sends a spike of anger through my chest, but I push it down.
"Your mother doesn't know anything about us."
"She knows enough. She knows men like you use money to control women. She knows your father did the same thing to Olive. And now you're doing it to me."
"This isn't control."
"Then what is it?"
"Desperation."
The word hangs between us. It’s raw and honest and it makes me more vulnerable than I intended.
Jade stares at me, some of the fire in her eyes flickering with confusion.
"I'm not going to apologize for bringing you here," I continue. "I'm not going to pretend this is normal or healthy or any of the things you want to hear. But I'm also not going to let you walk away without understanding the truth."
"The truth," she repeats flatly. "Which version? The one you told me on the beach? The one Marcus told the investors? How many truths do you have, Phoenix?"
"One. Just one." I hold her gaze. "I love you. Everything else—the dinner, the deal, all of it—that's noise. That's Marcus and his schemes and my own stupid mistakes. But underneath all of it, there's only one truth that matters."
She shakes her head slowly. "You don't even know what love means."
"Then teach me."
"In seven days? While I'm your hostage?"
"You're not my hostage."
"Then let me leave."
Silence.
She laughs again. "That's what I thought."
She pushes past me, putting distance between us, and I let her go. Let her pace the small room like the caged animal she clearly feels she is.
I watch her take in the details. The kitchenette with its two-burner stove and mini fridge.
The bed with its thick quilt and too many pillows.
The sofa that's barely big enough for one person to sit comfortably, let alone sleep.
The wood-burning stove that provides the only heat.
The single window that looks out onto nothing but dark trees.
"There's no internet," she says.
"No.
"No signal up here. No Wi-Fi."
"So I'm just supposed to—what? Sit here and listen to you lie to me for a week?"
“There are all of those book over there. And I have paper and a laptop too, if you want to writer.”
“I'm not in the mood.”
“I want you to give me a chance to explain."
"You had chances. You had a hundred chances to tell me the truth, and you didn't."
"I know."
"So why should I believe anything you say now?"
"Because I'm not letting you leave until you do."
Her eyes flash. "That's not belief. That's coercion."
"Call it whatever you want."
She spins away from me, stalking toward the closet.
She yanks it open and freezes. On one side, there are women’s clothes: Leggings, flannel shirts, sweaters, thick socks.
Nothing glamorous like the emerald silk currently clinging to her curves.
Just comfortable, practical things for a week in the mountains.
"Whose are these?" Her voice is strange. Tight.
"No one's. I had them brought up."
"When?"
"Last week."
She turns to look at me, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. "Last week. Before the dinner. Before any of this happened."
"Yes."
"You were already planning to bring me here."
"Not like this." I run a hand through my hair. "I thought—I hoped—after the dinner, I'd tell you about this place. Ask if you wanted to see it. Make it a romantic getaway, not a..."
"Kidnapping?"
I don't answer.
She pulls out a pair of black leggings and an oversized flannel, holding them against her body like armor. "I'm changing.”
“Okay.”
“I need privacy,” she snaps.
"Bathroom's through there."
She disappears without another word. The door locks behind her with a pointed click.
I sink onto the edge of the bed and drop my head into my hands.
This isn't how I wanted this to go. None of this is how I wanted any of it to go. I had a good plan, and then Marcus opened his stupid mouth and Jade overheard and everything fell apart in the space of ten minutes.
Now I'm here, in this cabin, with a woman who hates me. A woman who will probably never trust me again, no matter what I say or do in the next seven days.
But I can't let her go.
I've waited too long and wanted her too much. I won't lose her now.
The bathroom door opens. Jade emerges in the leggings and flannel, her feet bare, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looks younger like this and softer, more like the girl from the blog than the polished woman I brought to the dinner.
She catches me staring and scowls. "Where am I sleeping?"
I gesture to the bed.
"And where are you sleeping?"
"Same place."
"Absolutely not."
“I'm six-two. The sofa's too short.."
"Then sleep on the floor."
"No."
"Phoenix—"
"It's a king bed. There's plenty of room. I'll stay on my side."
"Your side?" She laughs incredulously. "There are no sides! This isn't a negotiation!"
"You're right. It's not." I stand, crossing to the dresser where I keep spare clothes. I pull out a t-shirt and sweats.
She stares at me, chest heaving, and I stare back.
The tension between us is a living thing. It’s electric and dangerous, crackling in the small space. I can feel the pull of it. There’s a pull that's always existed between us, drawing us together no matter how hard she fights it.
She feels it too. I can see it in the way her breath catches and the way her pupils dilate.
"You're unbelievable," she finally says.
"So I've been told."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"I do. I really, genuinely do."
I smile. It's not a nice smile. "Then this is going to be a very long week."
I brush past her toward the bathroom, leaving her standing there in her borrowed flannel, fury radiating off her in waves.
Seven days.
By the time we leave this cabin, she'll understand.
And she'll be mine. Completely and willingly.
Or we won't leave at all.