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Deep breaths. So many deep breaths.
When I exit the bathroom, I discover a crackling fire in the fireplace in my bedroom, surely a gift from Gus—and I hate to admit it’s cozy after a shower. Maybe it’s a peace offering.
Fuck him.
Gus is in the living room, working on his laptop and listening to music on the record player. I hover in the doorway.
“Is this Elvis?” I finally ask. I don’t know the song, but I know Elvis Presley’s voice.
“Are you a fan?” Gus replies—his way of telling me I’m right without having to actually say it.
“No, I’m not a middle-aged man,” I counter before I head to one of the enormous windows where there’s a full view of the spanning land in front of the cabin.
Snow has piled at least two feet high, but the flakes aren’t falling now. There’s a rush of sunlight peeking through the cloud cover, and it catches the light on the icicles hanging off the porch awning.
It’s lovely, honestly.
“Looks like it’s warming up,” I mention.
He doesn’t look up from his laptop. “Yep,” he confirms in a clipped tone.
“That means I can leave now.” I tap my knuckle on the window.
“Just shovel the driveway, hike six miles out to your abandoned Corolla, and haul it out of a ditch. You’ll be all set, Julia.”
Glaring, I face him. “You’re not going to drive me?” I question, acid building in my voice. “How am I—”
He lets out an extended sigh before he signals over his shoulder to the window behind him. Confused, I move over and peer out—and his driveway has been magically cleared of all snow, and there’s a car parked in one of the spaces out front. This time, it’s much bigger than my rented Corolla. A Subaru? I can’t tell. All I know is it’s not a typical billionaire car. This one is clearly equipped to handle snowy, icy roads.
Apparently, he really wants my ass gone.
“Thanks,” I murmur, absorbing the easy departure plan. Storm over, contract over—Gus and I are over.
Done.
“Welcome,” he replies, murmuring as softly as I did.
I let out an exhale, trying to grapple with the lingering uncertainty. My shoulders tighten and my hands tingle like they’re itching to do something. When I glance back at Gus, he’s still facing his laptop, but the screen is dark like he hasn’t touched it in minutes.
“Well, I guess that’s it then.” I head to the archway that leads out of the living room. “Thanks for…”
For inviting me into your home? For making me come so hard my eyes watered—twice? For letting me go back to my life without a fuss?
“…for taking advantage of your money and power to sleep with me,” I say instead. “It’s been real. We’ll always have Montana, August.”
Finally, he looks up from his screen and his blue eyes cut across the room, glaring hard and dangerously. He looks me over, the steeliness in his expression gradually softening until he responds, “And thank you for being worth my life’s work and very existence.”
It takes me a moment to realize he just gave me a compliment. A real one. “Seriously?” I question, sort of mocking, but there’s genuine curiosity behind my words.
Again, his eyes climb, taking me in like he wouldn’t mind having me available for his perusal more often. “So, you did have fun.”
Another mind game? Just when I thought we could be civil, he had to be all…well, all Gus about it. “Go suck your own dick,” I snap before turning on my heel to leave.
To my surprise, Gus follows me out of the living room and up the stairs. Annoyed, I shoot him a look over my shoulder.
“Wanted one last hungry, lingering look at me, Daddy?” I ask, putting a sway into my hips.
“I hate it when you call me that,” he nearly growls—but the way he fixates on my lips makes me wonder if he means it.
