Page 31

Nic

The streets of Gstaad look like something out of a Christmas postcard—twinkling lights against snowy rooftops, the crisp scent of pine hanging in the air.

Snow crunches under my borrowed boots — designer, apparently—courtesy of Kai’s neighbor’s wife, because in this world, borrowing Chanel snow gear is as casual as asking for sugar.

Kai’s coat swallows me whole, the sleeves brushing my fingers, the hem just barely covering my thighs. Underneath, all I have is his shirt.

His hand rests warm and possessive at my nape, his thumb absently stroking my skin. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. I, on the other hand, can’t focus on anything else.

We’ve fucked. We’ve fought. We’ve spent hours tangling up in each other, pushing and pulling in ways I never thought I’d crave. But we’ve never just . . . taken a walk in public.

“You realize you touch me a lot, Kai?” I murmur.

“You like it. And need it.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. This coming from the man who sleeps half on top of me. “Exactly when would you say you became the expert on what I need?”

“About thirty seconds after you sucked on my bleeding lip like a vampire, while seething with hatred,” he replies with a smirk.

Heat crawls up my neck, and I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. I guess I walked into that with my eyes open.

“Fine,” I mutter, glancing away from the knowing look in his eyes. “Maybe I don’t hate you.”

“Such a ringing endorsement.” His laugh is warm against my skin as he stops and takes my mouth in a decadent kiss. Right there on the sidewalk where anyone could—scratch that—everyone is seeing. Desire trumps my first instinct to pull away, and I find myself kissing him back just as hungrily.

This Dorothy certainly isn’t in Kansas anymore.

After what feels like a mile later, we stop in front of a boutique—all glass, mannequins draped in casual wear made with fabrics and colors that feel vaguely familiar—muted grays and pale blush. There’s no name or signage.

Kai guides me inside with a hand on my back.

Inside, it’s understated luxury: soft lighting. Sleek lines, and no price tags. Of course. If you have to ask, you probably can’t afford it.

“Kai!” A petite brunette straightens from a sketching board—then freezes when she sees me. Her eyes go wide, her hands flying to her mouth before she bursts into what sounds like rapid-fire German.

“Yes,” Kai answers lazily in English. “This is my girlfriend, Nic.”

My brain short-circuits. Girlfriend?

The woman squeals and launches herself at me, wrapping me in an excited hug. “Hi! I’m Eva Hen-Su! Kai said he was dropping by for breakfast—he didn’t mention he was bringing his girlfriend!”

Eva steps back, her gaze raking over Kai’s oversized coat draped on me, my bare legs peeking out. Her eyes twinkle knowingly.

“Oh, aren’t you breathtaking? Though I think we need to find you some clothes in your own size.”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get much time to . . .” I glare at Kai who only smirks, “pack.”

Eva catches the look that passes between Kai and me, and her grin stretches wider. “Say no more.”

She spins on her heel. “But before we start, you have to meet my mom. She’ll pee herself in shock. Stay put—I’ll go get her.”

The moment she disappears through the back door, I whip around to Kai. “Did you just call me your girlfriend?”

Kai tilts his head, lips curving. “What, is that too vanilla for you?”

My mouth opens. Closes. Heat burns up my neck because I know exactly what he means. That thing that’s been teasing the edges of my mind about certain aspects of our relationship. About him.

Kai chuckles—low and knowing. He pulls me against him, his lips brushing my ear.

“Relax.” His breath is warm. “I’m only interested in what you’re comfortable with.”

Oh shit.

I swallow hard. “So. You’re really . . . it.”

“You knew that already.”

“But I’m—I’m not,” my voice drops to a whisper, “not a sub.”

He just smirks. “I never asked you to be. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

I shake my head as if trying to clear the confusion. “But what about . . . things you need? Like . . . the props.”

“Props?” He chuckles. “You mean chains and whips and gags?”

I gulp.

His kiss against my temple is deceptively soft. “You’re so fucking cute, Nicole,” he murmurs.

Then—just like that—he turns me back to the mannequins like he hasn’t just cracked my world open.

Okay, did we really just go there?

I grit my teeth, ready to demand we find a place to finish the conversation when the door at the back swings wide.

A woman walks out, beaming.

Kai gestures lazily between us. “Nic, meet Vera, Eva’s Mom. Vera, my girl, Nic.”

Vera.

As in—Vera Hen-Su

My eyes dart around the unmarked boutique, mind racing through years of collected information.

No labels. No name.

Holy. Shit.

I’m standing in a world renowned designer’s atelier. The one whose dresses I used to rent.

Half an hour later, Vera leads us through the back of the shop and upstairs into an open plan apartment. The scent of butter and coffee fills the air.

Vera Hen-Su’s kitchen, like the rest of the apartment, is far from what I would expect from one of the most exclusive designers in the world.

Rustic wood, mismatched ceramic mugs on open shelves, a vintage espresso machine, and the wooden dining table scarred with years of shared meals.

It’s beautiful. And lived-in. And real.

Kai pulls out a chair for me before taking his own beside me, knitting his fingers through mine like it’s instinct.

Eva bustles around the kitchen, pulling out plates. “So, Nic,” she calls over her shoulder, “how long are you staying in Gstaad for?”

I hesitate. Good question. I lift my gaze to Kai, arching an eyebrow.

He presses a kiss to the back of my hand. “Depends.”

“On?” I press.

“On whether you’re used to it yet.”

I recall the words he whispered against my lips when we boarded.

“Are you serious?” I whisper. “I have—”

“Classes? So do I. Yet, here we are.”

Someone sets down a plate of perfectly golden croissants in front of us, and I realize that for a moment, I completely zoned out on the fact that there are others in the room apart from Kai and me.

Vera returns to the coffee machine, but keeps sneaking glances at me like she can’t quite believe I’m wearing her unpublished casual designs and sitting in her kitchen.

Well, the feeling is mutual, Vera Hen-Su.

“I’ll return to L.A. this weekend.” I say to Eva.

Eva gasps. “In two days? No way. You must meet the rest of the crew, then! They’ll kill me if I let Kai keep you all to himself.”

“The crew?” I ask?

“Just our tight bunch of friends. We can go out tonight, or if you prefer, hang out at your place—”

“Eva. Nic just got here,” Kai interjects.

“And she’s leaving in two days.” Eva replies, then turns back to me. “Tomorrow, then?”

Kai opens his mouth—to decline, probably—but I surprise even myself when I cut in first. “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

Which is true. I don’t. I like their energy and the easy way they accept me, like I’m already part of their world.

Eva’s grin widens. “Great. We’ll bring all the food. You guys’ll supply booze. So—it’s a date, then?”

Kai turns to me. “No pressure. We could always do it on our next trip.”

Something about the way he says it, like it’s a forgone conclusion . . . unsettles me, reminding me that there’s really no getting away from Kai.

I shrug, keeping my face neutral. “No, it sounds fun. We can do it tonight.”

Kai smiles, his fingers tightening around mine. He might as well have fist-pumped.

So, he wants me to meet his friends.

The rest of breakfast passes in a warm blur of conversation, easy laughter and innocuous touches. A hand on my knee. Hair tucked behind my ear. A bite of dessert offered. All the while amid conversation, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It’s terrifying easy. And almost enough to make me forget what he said at the shop.

Almost.