CHAPTER SEVEN

I couldn’t believe my ears.

I just stood there, staring at him, my brain refusing to process the absolute insanity of what he’d just said.

Love.

He’d said love.

What the hell was he talking about? How dare he kneel there and say he loved me after what he’d put me through? After everything he’d done to me? After four years of systematic torture that had left scars so deep I still felt them every single day?

“I love you, Eva,” he said again, his voice raw and desperate. “I’ve always loved you. I—”

The slap happened before I could think about it.

My palm connected with his cheek with a crack that echoed through the cabin, and for one brief, glorious moment, I found satisfaction in the red mark blooming across his perfect face.

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just stayed there on his knees, looking up at me with those gray eyes that seemed to swallow all the light in the room.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I asked, my voice shaking with rage. “Is that what this is? You think I’m so pathetic and desperate that I’ll actually believe this bullshit?”

“Eva…”

“Love?” I interrupted, my voice rising. “Do you even know what that word means, Grayson? Do you have any fucking idea what love is?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but I wasn’t finished.

“Because I’m pretty sure love doesn’t involve posting someone’s naked photo online and destroying their entire life,” I continued, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “I’m pretty sure love doesn’t involve calling someone disgusting and fat and worthless every single day for four years. I’m pretty sure love doesn’t involve making someone hate themselves so much they can’t look in a mirror without wanting to disappear.”

“I know—” he started.

“No,” I cut him off. “You don’t know. You don’t know anything. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be kneeling there trying to justify your cruelty with love. How does that make sense, Grayson? How does any of this make sense?”

“It doesn’t,” he said quietly. “I know how stupid I sound. I know how stupid I was. I know—”

I jabbed my finger into his shoulder, hard enough that he rocked back slightly.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare mention love again. Not to me. Not ever.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue.

“I will stay here with you for twelve days,” I continued, each word sharp and deliberate. “I signed a contract, and I don’t back out on my deals. But that is all there will ever be between us. So perhaps you should go celebrate the fact that your money was able to buy you the girl you ruined. Congratulations, Grayson. You won. But those twelve nights are all you’ll ever have.”

For a long moment, he just looked at me. Something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe, or regret—but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Then he sighed, a sound so heavy and defeated it almost made me feel guilty.

Almost.

He stood slowly, unfolding himself from the floor with a grace that seemed wrong for someone who’d just been slapped and verbally eviscerated.

“Fine,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “I know this is a lot. You can go to your room and get some rest.”

I blinked, confused. “My room?”

“There are two bedrooms,” he said, gesturing down the hallway to the left. “You can take the one by the left. It’s bigger, and I made sure it was stocked with everything you might need.”

I stared at him, my brain struggling to process this new information.

Two bedrooms?

Separate rooms?

“Wait,” I said slowly. “You want to stay in separate rooms?”

Something shifted in his expression when he saw the look on my face. “I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, Eva,” he said quietly. “All I want is a chance to show you that I’m no longer that boy who hurt you. I might have paid for these twelve days, but there will be no sex unless you want it. No touching unless you ask for it. Nothing you don’t explicitly consent to.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.

This didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

Why would he pay fifty million dollars for me if he didn’t expect anything in return?

But I was too exhausted to figure it out. Too overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the past few hours to process whatever game he was playing now.

So I said nothing.

I just grabbed my bag from where he’d left it near the door and walked down the hallway without looking back.

-----

The bedroom was perfect.

That was the first thought that hit me when I opened the door and stepped inside.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the frozen lake, the view so breathtaking it made my chest ache. A massive four-poster bed dominated the space, covered in soft white linens that looked like clouds. A fireplace crackled in the corner, casting warm light across hardwood floors. Fresh flowers sat on the nightstand—white roses and lavender, my favorites.

How did he know my favorites?

I walked slowly into the room, taking in every detail. The reading nook by the window with its plush armchair and stack of books. The door that led to what looked like a private bathroom. The soft rug beneath my feet that felt like walking on air.

Everything about this room felt like it had been designed specifically for me.

And when I opened the closet, my breath caught.

It was packed with clothes. Designer clothes. Beautiful, expensive pieces in fabrics that whispered luxury with every touch. Cashmere sweaters in soft neutrals. Silk blouses that caught the light. Jeans that looked like they’d been tailored to fit me perfectly.

And they were all my size.

Every single piece.

I pulled out a sweater—cream-colored and impossibly soft—and checked the tag.

My exact size.

How?

Perhaps it was Cynthia that arranged this? But how could she know not just my size but how I loved everything to be?

My phone rang interrupting my thoughts, and my stomach dropped when I saw the name on the screen.

St. Mary’s Hospital.

My hands shook as I answered. “Hello?”

“Miss Rose, this is Nurse Patterson from St. Mary’s.” Her voice was tight with urgency in a way that made my blood run cold. “I’m calling about your mother. Her condition has gotten worse.“