Page 41 of Until She's Mine
No city hum, no sirens. Just the wind through white pines and the distant crack of freezing lake ice.
The helicopter descends smoothly onto the private landing pad, and I reach across to unbuckle her seatbelt.
“This is yours?” she asks, her voice barely audible over the dying whir of the rotors.
“I bought it five years ago. I needed a place that was completely mine. Somewhere, no one could reach me.” I press the door release button with my thumb. “You’ll want to hold onto me. The ground’s icy.”
The cold hits like a physical blow. Evelyn gasps as the wind steals her breath, her boots slipping on the frosted helipad. I catch her elbow, pulling her against my side as we cross to the waiting Range Rover.
She watches the helicopter lift off through the rear window, her fingers curling into fists as the last connection to civilization disappears into the clouds. “Is this where you bring all your victims?”
“Only the ones I intend to keep.” I program the gate code into the dash. The estate’s security system hums to life around us. There are motion sensors in the trees, and thermal cameras along the stone walls.
The tires crunch over the quarter-mile gravel drive. Evelyn tenses as the house comes into view—six bedrooms, a conservatory, and the vaulted great room. The caretaker left as instructed; the only lights burning are in the living room and the kitchen, where a meal waits under silver cloches.
Her laugh is breathless. “Christ, Lucian.”
“What?” I glance at her, my hands on the wheel.
“It’s just... this is surreal. A helicopter? A private estate in the middle of nowhere? It’s like something out of a movie.”
The snow-covered pines stretch endlessly, the silence of the wilderness wrapping around us like a blanket. The Range Rover rolls to a stop at the estate’s grand entrance, and I step out, rounding the vehicle to open her door. She takes my offered hand. The icy air bites at her cheeks, painting them a rosy hue that makes her look even more breathtaking.
Evelyn sways when her heels sink into the gravel. I catch her around the waist, breathing in the fading traces of her jasmine scent. She’s lighter than she should be; the stress of the past months carved pounds from her frame. I make a mental note to have the chef prepare high-calorie meals.
The heavy oak door groans as we step inside. Evelyn’s sharp intake of breath tells me she’s seen it—the painting of mother and daughter she restored dominating the fieldstone fireplace. I bought it during the silent auction a few weeks ago and had it delivered here immediately.
She stops dead in the foyer and stares at the familiar faces. “You bought it.”
“It’s yours. I wanted you to have it.”
“Are you trying to build me a museum?”
I shrug. “If that’s what it takes.”
“You can’t just... buy me paintings, Lucian.”
“Can’t I?” I set our bags down by the door. “You’ve spent years restoring other people’s treasures, bringing beauty back to life. Why shouldn’t you have some of that beauty for yourself?”
“Because I don’t know how to accept gifts like this. I don’t know how to be the kind of woman who deserves helicopter rides, private estates, and priceless art.”
“You don’t have to earn this, Evelyn. You already deserve it. You deserve everything. You just need to let yourself have it.” I step behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin.
She turns to me and buries her face into my chest, her eyes glittering with tears. “You probably expected me to fall to my knees and thank you for it. Instead, I’m going to wet your clothes with my tears and snot because I’m overwhelmed and don’t know how to process this.”
I chuckle softly, wrapping my arms around her. “Cry as much as you need to. My shirts can handle it.”
She laughs through her tears, the sound muffled against my chest. “Did you have the staff lay out rose petals, too? Am I going to find champagne chilling in an ice bucket and a string quartet playing in the corner?”
“Would you like that? I can arrange it.”
She shakes her head, sniffling. “No, this is enough. More than enough.”
“Good. I thought you’d appreciate something with a bit more substance.” My voice lowers. “But if youwereoffering to drop to your knees, I wouldn’t object.”
Evelyn pulls back slightly, her tear-streaked face tilted up to mine. A slow smile spreads across her lips. “You wouldn’t, huh?”
“Not in the slightest.” My thumb brushes over the delicate skin of her wrist. Her pulse quickens. “We are here all alone. There’s no one to hear your screams, love.”
