Page 32 of Only Ever Mine

“Then why does this feel like an abduction?”

I grinned, placing a hand over my chest. “Scarlett Lane, are you accusing me of kidnapping?”

She rolled her eyes but took the steps, brushing past me as she stepped inside.

I followed, shutting the door behind us.

The flight was short. Scarlett was quiet, looking out the window, her fingers curled around the stem of her champagne glass.

I let her have her space, watching her, the way the dim cabin lights softened her features, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear absentmindedly.

She was still carrying the weight of everything that had happened this past week. And she was trying to act like she wasn’t.

I intended to change that.

The lake house was tucked away in the mountains, hidden from the world by towering trees and winding roads.

Scarlett stepped out of the car and looked around, the cool night air ruffling her hair. “Wow.”

I came up behind her. “Not bad, right?”

She turned to me, her arms crossing. “You own this?”

“My family does.”

“Of course.” She huffed out a breath, shaking her head. “Must be nice.”

I tilted my head, watching her. “You say that like I didn’t spend the past two weeks in back-to-back meetings dealing with corporate bullshit.”

She smirked. “Poor billionaire. Sounds exhausting.”

I grinned. “It is.”

I reached for her hand before I could think twice about it, my fingers lacing through hers.

She could’ve pulled away.

She didn’t.

Instead, she let me lead her inside.

The fire was already lit when we stepped into the great room, flames crackling, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors.

The place was warm, comfortable—designed to be a retreat from the world.

Scarlett walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the dark expanse beyond. “It’s so quiet.”

“Too quiet?”

“No. Just… different.”

I came up behind her, close but not touching. “That’s the point.”

She turned to me, her expression unreadable. “And what exactly is the point, Christian?”

Her voice was soft, but there was a challenge in it.

I reached out, brushing my fingers over a stray curl at her shoulder.

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