جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 40

Hazel’s PovThe silence that followed was different. It wasn’t the heavy, suffocating silence of secrets or the guarded quiet of two people playing a dangerous corporate game. It was just... still.Neither of us moved. Axel’s hands were still resting on my waist, his thumbs pressing gently into my skin through the fabric of my clothes. His forehead rested against mine, his breathing gradually slowing down from the chaotic, desperate pace of the kiss. We stood there in the quiet suite, trapped in the warmth of each other, completely stunned.I looked up into his dark eyes, feeling a strange, fluttery sensation in my chest that had nothing to do with fear. Slowly, a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips.Axel blinked, watching the shift in my face, and then he did something I had never seen him do before.He laughed.It wasn't a cynical smirk or a dark, amused chuckle. It was a soft, genuine laugh that crinkled the corners of his eyes and completely shattered the terrifying, unto

Hazel’s POVThe mountain had a way of making everything feel suspended in time, but the real world always demanded its tax.By the third afternoon, the quiet luxury of the alpine suite had begun to shift. The corporate world was a hound that had finally caught Axel’s scent; his phone hummed with increasing urgency on the nightstand, a vibrating reminder of the New York boardroom awaiting his return. But true to his word, Axel refused to answer it.Instead, he stood in the center of the cabin's small kitchenette, looking strangely out of place in a tiny kitchen, as though someone had dropped a billionaire into an ordinary life without giving him instructions. He was staring down a block of parmesan cheese like it had personally insulted his family lineage."You're glaring at it," I said, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of actual, properly identified tea in my hands."I am assessing the structural integrity of the ingredient," Axel replied without looking up. He had his tablet

Hazel’s POVThe transition from a picturesque winter twilight to a hostile alpine wilderness happened with brutal, terrifying speed.Within minutes of the sun dipping behind the peaks, the wind awoke. It wasn't a gentle breeze; it was a low, howling entity that swept down from the ridges, bringing a swirling cloud of fine, blinding snow that instantly erased our footprints behind us. The temperature plummeted like a stone, the cold biting through my standard coat and making my fingers ache within my gloves.Axel moved instantly. The stubbornness from our argument vanished, replaced by a razor-sharp, calm focus. He stepped through the rising drifts, grabbed my hand, and pulled me close against his side, shielding my face from the wind with his broad frame."We need to find cover," he shouted over the roar of the wind. "Now. We can't walk back in a whiteout.""Where?" I called back, squinting through the shifting wall of white. Every direction looked exactly the same—dark trunks and bli

Hazel’s POVThe private elevator ride up to the penthouse suite was entirely silent, save for the rhythmic, mechanical hum of the cables.Axel didn't look at the tablet again. He stood with his hands deep in his pockets, his posture rigid, his gaze locked on the polished brass doors. The disheveled, snow-covered man who had admitted he was lost in the woods had vanished. In his place stood the CEO—cold, calculated, and entirely barricaded behind his own walls.The shift happened so fast it gave me whiplash.When the doors slid open, Christian followed us into the foyer, his tablet still buzzing with incoming notifications. "We’ve booked a private charter out of the local airfield for three o'clock this afternoon, sir. That gives us roughly four hours to pack, clear the resort account, and coordinate with the New York security detail to bypass the terminal paparazzi.""Have the legal team draft a cease-and-desist for the blog," Axel commanded, his voice clipped and entirely devoid of e

Hazel’s POVA single, high-pitched chime echoed through the cabin as the illuminated Fasten Seatbelt sign flickered to life above the bulkhead.Nobody moved. The hum of the jet engines changed frequency, dropping into a deep, vibrating rumble as the aircraft tilted forward. We were dropping fast now, leaving the clean, silent upper atmosphere to plunge straight into the heavy bank of gray smog hanging over the city.Through the window, the sprawling grid of Long Island appeared through the mist, a vast matrix of tiny, intersecting white car headlights and dark winter rooftops. Farther west, the jagged, towering silhouette of Manhattan rose from the gray water like a cluster of obsidian shards. From this high up, it looked cold. Intimidating.Across the aisle, Christian was a statue. He sat with his hands folded tightly over his closed laptop, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the digital flight tracker monitor. Every few seconds, his phone would buzz against his palm—a short, frantic vib