MasukThe Uggs on Sarah’s feet were sopping wet, squelching with every step she took through the doors of the small inn. She felt like a wet dog—miserable, shivering, and cold. Every inch of her clothing was saturated, sticking to her skin with a freezing grip that made her teeth chatter as they approached the front desk.The old woman behind the counter gave them a sympathetic smile, tucking a book into her lap and sliding off a pair of hot pink reading glasses.“Oh dear,” the woman said, her expression shifting to one of genuine worry as she took in their disheveled states. “Did you two get stuck in the storm?”Sarah and Marcus exchanged a sharp look. The air between them was still thick with the heat of their earlier argument, a stark contrast to the ice clinging to their coats. Marcus’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line as he looked back at the clerk.“You could say that,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.“It’s a lot of snow for November,” the woman mused, seemingly unfazed by Mar
Genevieve Genevieve didn't bother making the bed. She crawled out from under the heavy duvet a few hours after the front door had clicked shut behind Julian, the silence of the penthouse finally settling into something she could use.She walked toward his massive walnut chest of drawers, her mind still snagged on that image she’d caught a glimpse of recently. Marcus Kane. The billionaire looked every bit the power player the media made him out to be, but it was the woman by his side that changed the math. Sarah. And the child.Genevieve leaned against the dresser, tapping her chin. The boy looked to be about four, maybe five. If she traced the timeline back to the exact moment Sarah had vanished from New York, the numbers lined up too perfectly to be a coincidence. Sarah hadn't just run away; she’d carried a secret out of the city with her. Could that be Julian’s child? The thought made Genevieve’s skin prickle. If Julian ever figured that out, the "strictly professional" wall he was
MarcusMarcus stomped back to the SUV, the biting wind chasing him until he managed to haul the driver’s side door shut. He exhaled sharply, relishing the immediate, albeit fading, warmth of the interior.“How sure are you that there’s a town near?” he asked, his voice rough.He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was picking at her cuticles—a nervous habit he had memorized over the last few months. If he wasn't so blinded by rage at his own colossal stupidity for putting them in this position, he might have reached over to steady her. Instead, he stayed pinned to his side of the seat, stewing in a toxic mixture of regret and irritation.“I mean, it was an exit where I think it said something about a town called Sutton Mountain or something like that,” Sarah said, her voice small. “Surely there’s businesses? I think…”“You *think*?”“Yes, Marcus, I think. The sign made it seem like there is, but I don’t want to say I’m totally confident in that.”Marcus let out a sharp, angr
Marcus“You’re sure the interstate is closed up ahead?” Marcus asked, his voice tight with the effort of keeping the SUV on the road.“Would you like to check yourself?” Sarah seethed.Marcus braved a look at her out of the corner of his eye. She was shaking her phone at him, some traffic app pulled up with glowing red lines indicating the nightmare ahead.“Give it to me,” he instructed, pulling one hand off the wheel to reach toward her.“No freaking way!” she yelled, her eyes wide with genuine terror. “Put both hands on the wheel *now*. Are you crazy?”Marcus let out an aggravated sigh, his fingers wiggling in the empty air between them. “Give me the fucking phone so I can check where I need to get off, Sarah.”“I told you, it’s the next exit.”“Do you see an exit anywhere?” he pointed out, his frustration peaking. The world outside was nothing but a white void.“Put both hands on the wheel and I’ll look again,” she demanded.Marcus growled, his patience snapping. He hurriedly reach
MarcusMarcus grunted, his fingers aching from the force he was using to white-knuckle the steering wheel. The windshield wipers were swiping in a frantic, rapid rhythm, but they were losing the battle against the thick snow flurries dumping from the sky. The world beyond the hood of the SUV had dissolved into a blinding, monochromatic haze.“Marcus, I think we should pull off at the next exit.”He didn't look at her. He couldn't afford to take his eyes off the road for even a second. “We’ll be out of the snow soon,” he answered, his voice tight.He could feel her nervousness vibrating in the seat next to him. In hindsight, he knew he should have accepted the invitation to stay at the investor's residence. The man had just agreed to pump enough capital into the firm to streamline a development that had been Marcus’s obsession for two years. It was a massive win, but his pride had gotten in the way.He had hated the way the man’s son looked at Sarah. The kid had watched her with a hung
SarahSarah jumped, a loud ping breaking the silence of her office and snapping her away from a journey through her favorited emails.It had started innocently enough. When she first joined the firm, she had favorited an email Marcus sent just to ensure she completed a specific task. But then he had kept sending them—messages that sent her pulse into a frantic overdrive. Within weeks, she had curated a small, private collection of their correspondence. They were digital breadcrumbs that led to a question she wasn't quite ready to answer: Why haven’t I given in to him yet?Resisting Marcus was becoming a Herculean effort. They lived together, worked together, and shared almost every waking hour. She wasn’t complaining—in fact, she loved the proximity more than she dared to admit—but the closeness meant she was truly getting to know him.He was nothing like Julian. They couldn’t be more opposite if they tried. Julian had always been like the wind at sea—a gentle, sweet breeze that promi







