Page 186 of Collide

He brushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “I know. Press was nonstop. Interviews, appearances. I barely had a moment to breathe, let alone pick up my phone. I wanted to be the first person to call you, but by the time I could, it was already late.”

I nod, exhaling, letting the tension ease from my shoulders.

He tips my chin up, eyes searching mine. “I saw the article.”

I stiffen slightly, but he shakes his head. “Elena, Madison means nothing to me. She was at my birthday dinner because she happened to be in town, and mutual friends invited her. That’s it. There’s no ‘love triangle,’ no hidden meaning behind the photos. Just you and me.”

I bite my lip, feeling the weight of his words, of the certainty in them.

His fingers trail down my arm, threading through mine. “Let me make it up to you. Come with me.”

My eyes snap to his. “What?”

“Let’s get away from all this. Just us.” His eyes burn into mine, a flicker of something reckless and enticing in them. “We can leave tonight. I’ll take you to Sweden, to my family’s cabin.It’s remote, no press, no service, no distractions. Just you and me.”

My breath catches.

No media. No outside world.

Just him and me.

A chance to breathe. A chance to exist together without the world watching.

“Tonight?” I repeat, like I need to make sure I heard him right.

He nods. “Pack a bag, Älskling. Let’s disappear.”

Chapter 25

Hypnotizing

Istand at the edge of the tarmac, my fingers gripping Alex’s hand as I stare up at the sleek private jet. The weight of my decision presses against my chest, but when Alex turns to look at me—his eyes deep like the ocean glinting under the floodlights—a slow thrill coils through my veins. There’s no turning back now.

I’ve left nothing but a hastily scribbled note for Riley, telling her I’ll be away for a few days. She won’t worry.

He reaches for my hand, his warmth anchoring me as we board the jet.

The flight to Stockholm is smooth, the hum of the engines a low, steady backdrop. Alex stretches out beside me, at ease in the plush leather seats. He pours us both a glass of wine, and as I sip, I find myself watching him—how the golden light casts soft shadows across his sharp cheekbones, how the corner of his lips tilts up every time he catches me staring. There’s something exhilarating about sneaking away, just the two of us.

We land in Stockholm under a sky streaked with soft pinks and oranges. The air is crisp for early August, warm enough not to need heavy coats, but cool enough that I shiver when a breezeslips past. Alex notices, shrugs off his leather jacket, and drapes it over my shoulders before leading me toward our next stop.

The city buzzes with late-summer energy. We pick up everything we need—groceries, wine, warm sweaters, extra blankets. At one point, I get lost in the charm of a small bookstore, running my fingers along the spines of poetry books.

Alex finds me there, watching with that same unreadable expression he always wears when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

“You always get that look when you’re thinking,” he murmurs, stepping closer.

“What look?” I ask, arching a brow.

Alex traces a fingertip along my jawline, his touch gentle and slow. “Like you’re carrying too much weight on your shoulders.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, the intimacy of the moment catching me off guard. He never lets me hide—not from him, not from myself.

After packing up our car, we start the drive north, leaving the bustle of the city behind as the roads narrow, flanked by towering pines. Färnebofjärden National Park sprawls before us, the scent of damp earth and lake water filling the car as we pull up to his family’s cabin.

It is beautiful in its simplicity. A deep red wooden and stone structure nestled among the trees, its large windows reflecting the soft ripples of the lake beyond. A small wooden dock stretches out over the water, the sun casting golden light across the still surface.

Inside, the cabin is warm and rustic, the scent of aged wood and pine lingering in the air. A stone fireplace dominates one side of the room. In front of it, a huge fur rug spreads across the floor. I run my fingers over the textured fabric, a small smile playing on my lips as I take it all in. There really is no cell service out here, just the crackling of the fire, the distant rustleof trees outside, and Alex moving around the space with the ease of someone who fits into this life, his confidence so sexy and addictive.