Novels by Winternight

The light found them slowly. Thin streaks slipped through the curtains, crawling across the floorboards and over the tangled sheets, until they reached the bed where Frederick and Amelia still lay. The room felt quieter than it had the night before, as though it knew not to intrude. Her head rested against his shoulder, her breath moving in sync with his, while his hand remained curved possessively at her waist, anchoring her against him even in sleep.But they were awake. Not completely, not ready to leave the safety of the dim morning, but awake enough to know that the night had changed something between them.Amelia shifted first, her eyelashes brushing against his skin as she blinked up at him. She didn’t speak, only watched him, as though trying to memorize the exact weight of his presence after such an unguarded night. Frederick’s gaze followed hers, steady and unreadable at first, until his thumb began to draw idle circles against her side. A small gesture, but enough to tell h

Amelia woke to the warmth of Frederick’s body pressed against hers, his arm draped across her waist as though even in sleep he was afraid to let her go. For a moment she didn’t move, afraid that shifting might break the spell of quiet that had settled over them. The night before still lived on her skin — his hands, his mouth, the way he had held her as though the world might disappear if he didn’t. She closed her eyes again and let herself feel it, not rushing the memory away, not hiding from the way her body still trembled with echoes of it.The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, washing the room in a glow that felt far too gentle for the storm that had passed between them hours ago. Her cheek rested against the pillow, and when she tilted her head just slightly she could see the sharp line of his jaw, the shadows of his lashes resting against his skin. He looked younger in sleep, stripped of the sharp edges and relentless control he carried through the day

Amelia’s fingers trembled as the lock turned, a small click that sounded far louder in the silence of the penthouse. She pulled the door open and for a breath, neither of them moved. Frederick stood there, shoulders tense, eyes dark and searching as though he’d been holding himself together by a single thread. The moment his gaze landed on her, something in his expression broke—not in weakness, but in relief so palpable she felt it sweep into her chest.She stepped back to let him in, and he crossed the threshold without hesitation, closing the door softly behind him. The dim light of the suite touched his face, softening the hard planes, and Amelia couldn’t stop herself from staring. He didn’t look like the composed, unshakable man she had grown used to. He looked raw, undone, as if her silence on the other side of that door had been a torment he didn’t know how to bear.“Amelia,” he said, her name leaving his mouth in a way that seemed less like speech and more like a release.She s

Amelia’s sleep was anything but restful. The silence of the room felt heavy, pressing down on her as she tossed from one side to the other. The sheets tangled around her legs like restraints, and the emptiness on the other side of the bed gnawed at her more than she wanted to admit. Frederick’s absence left a hollow coldness that no number of pillows could replace. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to will herself into sleep, but her mind refused to quiet down. Every flicker of shadow across the wall, every faint creak of the building settling, echoed like a warning she couldn’t decipher.When sleep finally did come, it wasn’t kind. Her dream was fractured, strange, and yet too vivid to ignore. She found herself walking down a corridor she didn’t recognize, its walls narrowing the further she went. A low hum followed her, like voices speaking just beyond her hearing, and every step she took only made the air heavier. Then the sound shifted into something sharper—the squeal of tires,

THE PRESENT The penthouse was quiet in a way that made Frederick uneasy. He had taken Amelia through the back doors immediately the power went out. It was a good thing the car was already waiting for him at the back. A plus for having a PA. who thinks 12 steps ahead. The city hummed faintly below, distant traffic and the occasional horn like ghosts behind the glass. Inside, everything smelled faintly of rain and leather—his jacket tossed over a chair, her perfume lingering in the air where she’d passed.Amelia sat on the edge of the bed, the golden key pendant clutched in her hands. She kept staring at it like it could explain everything. Frederick watched her from the doorway, arms crossed. His jaw was tight, the way it always got when he was thinking too hard.“You’ve been holding that thing since the moment we got home,” he said finally.“I—I can’t stop looking at it,” she admitted, voice low. “It’s my father’s. I thought I lost it years ago. And now… now it’s here, tonight, like

*FLASHBACK*She remembered the scent of engine oil and aftershave long before she remembered his face. Her father, Warren Cross, had always smelled like sweat, salt, and something warm, like safety. Amelia used to wait outside the auto shop where he worked, sitting on a stack of old tires with a book in her lap, pretending not to stare at the entrance every time the door chimed.Warren wasn’t just a mechanic. He had sharp eyes, a calm voice, and an uncanny way of making people talk around him. Sometimes, important-looking men in black suits would come to the garage and exchange briefcases. Once, Amelia had asked him who they were."Friends of old friends," he had said, ruffling her hair. "But you don’t need to worry about that. You keep studying. That brain of yours is going to get you out of here one day."They didn’t have much. Just a two-bedroom house with a leaking roof and a washing machine that coughed more than it spun but they had each other and that's what mattered. And her f