로그인Zoey's POV I woke up with that immediate feeling that something was off. Christian's side of the bed was empty. I blinked slowly, still half tangled in sleep, staring at the wrinkled mattress beside me like it might explain itself. Okay. I knew. He'd said he had to leave early. But… he didn't even say goodbye? I sat up, pulled the comforter to my chest, and took a breath, trying not to turn something small into a full-blown crisis. That's when my phone buzzed on the nightstand, like the universe had heard me and decided to correct me immediately. I grabbed it. It was a message from him. [You looked so beautiful sleeping, I didn't want to wake you. Love you. PS: I'll make it up to you tonight, so be ready.] I read it twice. By the second time, I was already smiling. Of course. Christian being Christian. The man who wouldn't wake me just to say goodbye. "Okay," I murmured to the empty room, a soft, silly smile on my face. "I'll be ready, Mr. Kensington." When
Zoey's POV I walked into the bedroom with my body begging for bed and my mind still full of the bakery—Mia's voice treating my birthday like a global event, Madeline eating for two with a confidence I admired and envied. I took a quick shower, washed my hair, and came back in wearing a robe, looking like the domestic version of myself—the version I actually like. I went straight to the vanity, because skincare is my daily therapy: cleanse, hydrate, pretend it organizes my thoughts too. I tied my hair up and started massaging my face. The mirror gave me my bare skin—and Christian already lying down, far too comfortable for a man who carries an empire on his shoulders. He glanced up just enough to see me… then went back to his phone. "Today was funny," I said, watching my reflection. "Mia started that whole 'thirtieth birthday party that shuts down Verdania and the world' thing. Then Madeline laughed and said 'intimate' and 'Kensington' don't belong in the same sentence. And Mi
Zoey's POV The bakery smelled indecently good—like butter and sugar had teamed up to remind every adult that happiness is way simpler than we like to admit. The display case gleamed with perfectly aligned rows of pastries, like someone had organized indulgence with a ruler. I was sitting at a table with Mia and Madeline. Mia kept playing with her hair like it was an extension of her mood—today she was buzzing, energized, the kind of person who wakes up ready to turn any conversation into an event. Madeline, on the other hand, had that satisfied, slightly hungry look, switching between listening and strategically deciding which dessert would be her next target. "So…" Mia leaned forward, hands clasped like she was about to announce an official agenda. "A big thirtieth birthday party? The kind that shuts down Verdania and half the world?" I rolled my eyes hard enough to practically see my own brain. "Let's take it easy," I said. "I want something small. Just close friends and
Christian's POV The bar at Rosemonte Club had that carefully dim lighting that made every decision feel more thoughtful than it really was. Dark wood. Leather. Glass polished to perfection. A piano playing softly in the background, like the music had been trained not to interrupt important conversations. I was there because Marcus had dragged me out of my own echo. After the jump, I'd come back down to earth with the ridiculous feeling that something had unlocked. Like, for a few seconds, I remembered I wasn't made only of control. Marcus sat across from me, already holding a drink, watching me with a kind of patience he didn't use often. Cousin patience. The kind that knew you before the title. "Alright," he said, setting his glass down with a firm tap. "Now that we have drinks… say that again. Slowly." I watched the ice spin in my glass. Watched the reflection of the lights in it like I might find the right answer there. The right phrasing. A less absurd version o
Christian's POV If someone had told me, a year ago, that I'd wake up on a Tuesday and willingly jump out of a plane, I would've laughed politely and then go back to my schedule. I didn't have time for things without purpose. No room for impulse. I had a company, a son, a marriage I protected like it was an entire country. And yet, there I was. Standing in a hangar, the smell of fuel in the air, cold wind cutting through the metal structure, wearing a jumpsuit that didn't belong in any official photo. Marcus walked beside me with that usual air of his—half amused, half brilliant—like the world was a well-written joke only he fully understood. "Are you sure this sounded like a good idea?" he asked, eyeing the instructor like he was assessing a wild animal. "No," I said, adjusting my watch like that might restore some sense of normalcy. "But I'm also not sure staying on the ground is better." Marcus let out a short, humorless laugh. "That was dramatic." "I'm in a hanga
Zoey's POV The night was cool, but not cold. I grabbed Christian's hand while he clutched his shirt in the other, and led him out of the house, across the garden and onto the stone path that led to the shed where the bikes were kept. He followed without asking questions, but I could feel his curiosity in the way his fingers tightened around mine. "Where are you taking me?" he asked when I grabbed one of the bikes and adjusted the handlebars. "You'll see," I said, swinging my leg over the seat. Christian got on his bike with that annoyingly natural coordination of someone who's always been good at everything without trying. He was wearing nothing but sweatpants and a basic T-shirt, and somehow still looked like he belonged in a spread called "effortlessly attractive men in casual settings." "Follow me," I said, and started pedaling. The path to the vineyards was short, but winding. The moonlight was enough that I didn't have to worry about stumbling, and the sound of tires
The phone rang at three in the morning on a Friday, ripping me out of a deep sleep. For a few seconds I was completely disoriented, trying to figure out where I was and why my phone was exploding in the middle of a London night. When I finally managed to grab it off the bedside table, I saw "Zoey"
It had been exactly two months since I first set foot on London soil, and I could say with absolute certainty that the city had surprised me in every possible way. London was a fascinating mix of history and modern life, where medieval castles stood beside sleek skyscrapers, and where it was perfect
Nathaniel Carter's office was exactly what I'd expect from the COO of a company like Kensington. It was elegant, imposing, and deliberately designed to intimidate. The walls were lined with dark mahogany shelves, a massive desk dominated the center of the room, and floor-to-ceiling windows offered a
Nathaniel's POV Turns out leaving wasn't exactly optional. The second I hit Charles, Annabel's security showed up, and they didn't care about explanations, harassment, or self-defense. "House policy," they said. "Any physical violence means immediate removal." So there we were, sitting on the cu







