Amara's POV
Even after the staff helped me out of the wreck, my hands would not stop trembling. I could still hear the crunch of metal, the sharp screech of tires, the memory of glass catching the light like sparks before it scattered across the road.
Then came another sound, the deep, thunderous roar of helicopter blades cutting through the air. My heart lurched.
Within moments, Tessa appeared, rushing toward me, her hair whipping in the wind. She threw her arms around me with such force I almost stumbled.
"Amara," she cried, her voice breaking with relief.
I let out a shaky breath, hugging her back, trying to steady myself in her warmth. But then I looked up, and my stomach dropped.
Because behind her, stepping down with the storm stitched into his every stride, was Trey.
Calm, composed, but his eyes, God, his eyes burned into me, sharp enough to undo every fragile piece of composure I had left.
I kept my distance.
Every time Trey's voice carried through the area, clipped and commanding as he spoke to the staff, I deliberately turned the other way. I could not bear the sound of him giving instructions, my instructions. This was supposed to be my job, my responsibility. Yet here he was, stepping into it as if I were incapable, as if the accident had stripped me of my competence along with my dignity.
The shame simmered beneath my skin. I busied myself with pointless things, checking the seating plan, shuffling through notes that no longer mattered, just so I would not have to look at him.
When I finally passed by, he turned, those storm dark eyes locking onto me. His voice gentled, though it still carried that unyielding authority.
"Do not worry about your car," he said, low and even, like a decree instead of comfort. "I will take care of it."
I froze, knuckles tightening around the folder in my hands. My car. The one I had scraped, saved, and sacrificed for. The one that had carried me through countless sleepless nights and last minute errands. It was more than metal and wheels. It was freedom. Independence.
But I knew the truth. I had seen the wreck. Bent steel. Shattered glass. A ruin no amount of his money could restore. Still, I kept my lips pressed tight. What was the point in saying it aloud? He would only sweep over my words with that calm certainty, as if he always knew better. So I said nothing. Silence was safer.
When the last details were settled, Tessa emerged like a spark, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Why do not we drive back to the city?" she suggested casually, but the way she looked at me made my stomach knot. "A road trip would be fun."
I blinked, horrified. Fun? With him? Locked in hours of silence or, worse, conversation?
"No," the word nearly left my throat, but Trey's answer sliced clean through my hesitation.
"Fine." He did not even think. Did not even pause. He agreed, just like that.
My heart stumbled, thudding painfully. He agreed.
Before I could gather words, he was already issuing orders. He told his assistant to send a car immediately, his tone brisk and decisive, as if this was not insane. Then, with the same careless authority, he called his pilot and instructed him to return to the estate without them.
And just like that, the air left my lungs.
I wanted to scream at Tessa for planting the idea. I wanted to shake her for pushing me closer to the edge of a cliff I had been desperately clinging to. But it was too late. The decision had been made, and Trey had closed the door on escape.
My horror did not show, though. I swallowed it down, forcing a calm mask over my face as I slipped my arms around my bag. Inside, my heart was thrashing. Because if there was one thing I knew about Trey Alvarez, it was that time alone with him was dangerous.
And now, I was about to be trapped in a car with him for hours.
The sunset painted the horizon in strokes of orange and violet as the farm grew smaller behind us. I had just opened my mouth to ask where I should sit when Tessa stepped in with that knowing sparkle in her eyes.
"I will ride with the others in the van," she said, too sweet, too casual. Then she slipped her hand around my arm and nudged me toward the black pickup. "You go with Trey."
My throat tightened. "Tessa."
"No arguments," she whispered, her smile sharp enough to betray her plan. Before I could protest, she was already climbing into the van, waving as if she had just solved the world's problems.
Which left me standing awkwardly in the glow of the headlights until Trey's door opened.
"Get in," he said simply, already sliding behind the wheel.
The pickup roared to life, and I climbed in, heart pounding like I had stepped into enemy territory. The scent of leather and something unmistakably his wrapped around me, making the air heavier. I pressed myself against the door, staring straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the warmth radiating from his side of the cab.
The first half hour passed in silence. Only the steady hum of the engine and the pounding of my pulse filled the space. Every time I dared to glance sideways, Trey's profile was a storm, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the darkening road, hands steady on the wheel.
Then the weather turned. The sky blackened, thunder rolled low, and within minutes the rain lashed down so violently that the wipers could not keep up.
"We are not making it to the city like this," Trey muttered, scanning the road. And as if the storm wanted to prove his point, the wind howled, rocking the pickup, forcing him to slow.
When the beam of headlights caught the silhouette of an old cabin nestled among the trees, he steered without hesitation. Gravel crunched under the tires as he pulled us in.
Inside, the air was damp and stale, but at least the roof did not leak. Trey moved with purpose, striking a match to coax life into the fireplace. I hovered near the wall, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to keep my distance.
When the flames caught, I turned and froze.
Because Trey was not done. He went back out into the storm, his shirt plastered to his back, returning moments later with a bag I had not even noticed in the truck bed. He set it on the rickety table and, to my shock, pulled out bottled water, packets of food, and of all things, a neatly folded blanket.
Prepared. He had thought of everything.
"You packed for this?" I asked before I could stop myself.
He glanced at me, rainwater dripping from his hair, his voice low. "I do not take risks I cannot control." Then, softer, almost an afterthought, "I was not about to let you freeze out here."
Heat crawled up my neck. I should have turned away, pretended not to care. But the sight of him, strong shoulders catching firelight, hands unwrapping food like it was the most natural thing, that blanket resting on the table between us, unraveled something inside me.
I hated that he thought of everything. I hated that he still knew how to make me feel safe.
Outside, the storm battered the cabin. Inside, another storm brewed, one I could not silence, no matter how hard I tried.
The storm howled against the cabin walls, but inside, the fire Trey had coaxed to life threw just enough light and warmth to chase the worst of the chill away. I sat stiffly on one of the old chairs, trying to ignore how small the space felt with just the two of us in it.
Then Trey returned from the truck bed with a duffel I had not noticed earlier. He set it on the table and unzipped it with practiced ease. To my astonishment, he began pulling out bottled water, sealed packets of food, even a blanket folded with military precision.
I blinked. "You prepared all this?"
His eyes flicked up to meet mine, something unreadable in the firelight.
"Before my men left the estate, I made sure they brought the essentials," he said, his tone calm, matter of fact. "Food, water, blankets. And I had them stop in the town near the farm to order more supplies. I was not about to risk us being stranded unprepared."
My lips parted, but no sound came. He had thought this far ahead. Not just planned the trip, but anticipated disaster, anticipated being stuck in the middle of nowhere, and prepared for it down to the last detail.
He pulled the blanket free, shaking it out once before draping it over the chair opposite mine. His gaze lingered on me for a beat longer than it should have, as though the words he had not said were louder than the ones he had.
"I will not let you freeze," he added quietly, almost like a confession rather than a promise.
Something twisted deep in my chest. I hated that part of me softened at that. Hated that even now, after the accident, after the scandal, after everything, I could still feel the pull of safety, of warmth, of him.
I dropped my eyes to the food on the table, pretending to busy myself. But I could not escape the truth pressing in from all sides. Trey Alvarez did not just command empires. He thought ahead, orchestrated everything, even down to this storm.
And somehow, he had left no space for me to run.
We ate in silence, the fire crackling between us, the storm hammering the roof until it felt like the whole cabin might collapse. Every bite of food was heavy, every sip of water too loud in the quiet. I could not stop thinking of how carefully he had prepared, how he always seemed three steps ahead, except when it came to us.
The rain only grew worse, pounding like fists against the walls, and soon the cold crept in. It slipped under the door, through the cracks in the wood, wrapping around us until even the fire's warmth was not enough.
Trey leaned back in his chair, shadows carving his face sharp and unreadable. "We should call it a night," he said at last, his voice low, rough from exhaustion, or maybe from something else.
I nodded, too quickly, and settled on the worn couch. He remained opposite me in a faded armchair, the firelight flickering between us like a barrier neither of us wanted to name.
The cold was merciless. I curled my arms around myself, pressing my legs tighter, pretending I was not trembling.
"Are you cold?" Trey's voice cut through, softer now.
"No," I lied, shaking my head. But the betrayal came in the form of my lips, trembling uncontrollably.
To my shock, Trey rose without hesitation. His height seemed to fill the tiny room as he crossed to me. Before I could speak, he pulled the blanket from the chair and lowered himself onto the couch beside me.
The cushion dipped under his weight, and suddenly he was too close. His shoulder brushed mine, solid and hot despite the chill, and then he was tugging the blanket around us both. His arm looped firmly around my waist, pulling me against him until there was no space left to breathe.
I froze, every nerve alive, burning under the suffocating nearness of him. His scent, clean, musky, achingly familiar, invaded my senses, made my pulse scatter.
I knew I should protest. This was reckless, dangerous, impossible. But when I dared to look up, his gaze had already found me.
That intensity, the one I had mistaken too many times for care, pierced straight through me. It unraveled me, turned me to water.
And then Trey leaned down.
His mouth brushed mine once, tentative, almost questioning, before claiming me fully in the next breath. It was not gentle. It was desperate, searing, the kind of kiss that stripped me bare and told me all the things he had never dared to say.
My hands fisted in the blanket, half in panic, half in need, while my heart thundered so loud I was sure he could feel it. The storm outside was nothing compared to this.
The kiss was fire and storm and everything I should not want but could not resist. His lips devoured mine, stealing every ounce of air until my body trembled with the force of it. I clutched the blanket tighter, half afraid that if I let go, I would fall completely into him.
Even as I melted against him, my mind screamed the truth. I was his wedding planner. This was reckless. A mistake that would cost us both more than I could imagine. Yet the moment his mouth claimed mine, none of it mattered. For one stolen heartbeat, kissing Trey was a dream come true, even if I knew he would make me pay the price for it later.
And instead of pulling away, Trey deepened the kiss, hungry, demanding, relentless, like a man who had finally stopped running from the very thing he wanted most. My resistance shattered. I gave in, letting the storm inside me rise to meet his, even if temptation was the one battle I was destined to lose.
Outside, the rain pounded harder, rattling the old cabin's bones. Inside, we had already surrendered to a different kind of storm, one that neither of us could take back.