Chapter 5 - The Catskill Safehouse
The estate in the Catskills wasn't a cozy cabin; it was a fortress disguised as a rustic lodge. Nestled deep among towering, mist-shrouded pines, the stone-and-timber mansion loomed out of the dark like a sleeping beast.
Evander cut the headlights a mile down the drive, coasting the Aston Martin in total silence until we reached the heavy iron gates. He unlocked them manually with the brass key, parking the car deep inside a hidden underground garage that smelled of damp earth and polished mahogany.
Inside, the house was freezing.
Evander immediately set to work, lighting a massive stone fireplace in the master study while I stood by the window, peering out into the dense, black woods. Every shadow looked like a threat. Every rustle of pine needles sounded like footsteps.
"Come away from the glass," Evander said, his voice low as he tossed another log onto the fire. Sparks danced upward, casting a warm, flickering glow over his sharp features.
"I can't just sit here," I said, hugging my arms across my chest. My light sweater offered little protection against the mountain chill. "Evander, someone has my digital signature. They’re framing me for corporate treason, and we’re hiding in the middle of nowhere. If the board or the syndicate finds us here—"
"They won't find us," he interrupted, walking over to me.
He stopped just inches away. Up close, the bruised jaw and the tired lines around his eyes made him look achingly human, stripped of the untouchable corporate armor he wore in Manhattan.
Slowly, deliberately, he shrugged off his ruined suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The fabric was still warm from his body, smelling faintly of rain, woodsmoke, and expensive bourbon.
"Why did you do it?" I whispered, looking up at him. "Why make me the sole beneficiary? Why risk your entire empire for someone you barely let speak to you outside of meetings?"
Evander let out a long, ragged breath. He reached out, his warm fingers gently tracing the line of my jaw, tilting my face upward so I had no choice but to look into his eyes.
"Barely let you speak?" A faint, ironic smile touched his lips. "Quinn, every word you said in those meetings was the only reason I didn't walk away from Zarelli Capital years ago. You brought color into a world made of blood and ledgers."
His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, and my breath hitched.
"I didn't want to drag you into this filth," he continued, his voice dropping to a rough, intimate whisper. "I tried to keep my distance. I tried to fire you twice just to get you away from the crosshairs. But every morning when you walked into my office, looking at me like I was just a difficult boss instead of a monster... I couldn't do it. I needed you near."
"And now we’re trapped," I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs not from fear, but from the unbearable closeness of him.
"We’re not trapped," Evander murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips. "We’re positioned."
Before I could ask what he meant, his mouth captured mine.
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It wasn't gentle. It was desperate, hungry, and heavy with a year’s worth of suppressed longing and terror. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist, lifting me slightly against him as if he wanted to fuse us together and shield me from the rest of the world. I gasped against his lips, my hands clutching at the lapels of his shirt, pulling him closer as the storm raged outside.
Then, a sharp, metallic click echoed through the silent house.
