We ordered, sharing small plates that encouraged us to lean in close, to brush fingers as we reached for bites of crusty bread and tender vegetables. The conversation flowed easily—soft, intimate, like we were the only two people in the world. I asked about her favorite childhood memories, and she paintedpictures of summer afternoons running barefoot through her grandmother’s garden and Sunday dinners filled with laughter and love.
Her shy smile hit me like a punch in the gut because with it came the realization that something had to give. I was only supposed to be here temporarily. If I tried to stay beyond the one-month agreement, my father would bust my deceit wide open before I’d have a chance to explain.
We finished dinner, the conversation turning light again as we shared a chocolate torte that melted on our tongues. She laughed when I smeared a bit of cream on her nose, and I felt the world narrow to just us—our quiet bubble in the candlelit corner of Sullivan’s Nest.
Her laughter was music, her eyes bright, and when she leaned across the table to kiss me, it was soft, unhurried, a promise wrapped in sweetness. Her lips tasted of chocolate and wine, and I lost myself in the gentle brush of her mouth against mine. For a moment, everything else disappeared—the retreat, my father, the weight of my secrets. There was only Naima and the way she made me feel like I’d finally found something real.
When we pulled away, she rested her forehead against mine, her breath warm on my skin. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For this. For everything.”
“Anytime,” I murmured, leaning in to give her a kiss that held a promise for what the night alone in our suite would bring.
We paid the check and stepped out into the cool night air, her arm looping through mine as we walked along the quiet street. She pointed out the small shops, sharing stories of the locals, of the guests who had wandered into town looking for a taste of its charm. Each story was a thread, weaving me deeper into her world.
We stopped at the general store, a quaint shop with wooden shelves and the kind of customer service you only find in smalltowns. We filled our cart with tea candles, fresh herbs, and pantry staples. Naima moved through the aisles with practiced ease, greeting the shopkeeper by name, laughing with a couple of guests who had wandered in from the retreat.
Her world was beautiful, and vibrant, and I wanted to be a part of it. But I felt the thread of my lies pulling tighter, threatening to snap. There was no way the retreat could sustain itself if they continued to shop in this way. The prices weren’t wholesale, so even if they helped the town, it didn’t help them.
As we loaded the bags into the truck, I caught sight of a sleek, black luxury sedan rolling up the mountain road. Its tinted windows and smooth, quiet glide didn’t belong here. The hairs on my neck stood at attention.
Naima noticed too. “That’s odd. No one around here drives anything like that.”
I forced a smile, but my mind raced. “Probably a guest. Or someone lost.”
But I knew better. I knew who it was. And as we started the drive back to The Three Bears, dread settled in my gut. My father was here.
And everything was about to fall apart.
17
NAIMA
The winding road back to The Three Bears seemed longer than ever. The closer we got, the tighter the coil in my stomach wound, each rotation fueled by the energy rolling off the man beside me. Lennox had grown quiet, his jaw set, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tight enough to pale his knuckles. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but fear tightened my throat. Maybe I was just being paranoid.
When we pulled into the retreat, the sleek, black car was parked near the lodge entrance. The driver, dressed in a sharp, dark suit, moved with precision, opening the back door to the vehicle. My breath caught as a man stepped out—one who looked so much like Lennox, it felt as if reality had split in two. Deep golden brown skin, amber eyes that held no warmth, and silver hair cut low. His suit was immaculate, the tailoring so fine it seemed like the threads themselves obeyed him. He exuded a confidence that bordered on arrogance, every movement deliberate and calculated.
On the porch, Selena and Tasha stood like sentinels, their faces a mix of curiosity and unease. I stepped out of the truck, my knees weak as the man’s cold, assessing gaze landed onme. Unlike Lennox’s amber eyes, which always seemed to hold secrets just for me, this man’s stare was sharp, slicing through any comfort I clung to.
“Naima.” Lennox’s voice was low, almost a plea, but it didn’t calm the storm building inside me. If anything, it made it worse. He hadn’t been this quiet, this controlled, since he arrived. The truth sat at the edge of my consciousness, but I wasn’t ready to look it in the eye.
Selena stepped forward, her usual poise wrapped tightly around her. “Can we help you?”
The man’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m Alan Gold from Gold Ventures.”
My world narrowed, my pulse a staccato rhythm in my ears. Alan Gold. The man whose company held our retreat’s future in its hands. And he looked just like Lennox.
My gaze darted to Lennox, searching for answers, for a single thread to pull me back to solid ground. But he couldn’t look at me. His lips remained a tight line, his eyes fixed on some point beyond my reach. I felt the truth in my bones, an ache that settled deep and cold.
Alan Gold had no such hesitation. “I’m the potential investor you’ve been waiting for.”
Selena’s expression brightened, her professionalism a practiced mask. “We’d be more than happy to show you around, Mr. Gold. Is there anything specific you’d like to see?”
He didn’t even look at her. His gaze was locked on Lennox. “No need. My son has already seen everything. Haven’t you, Lennox?”
My mind stumbled over the word. Son.
The air thickened, and the ground beneath me became unsteady. I turned to Lennox, my face a canvas of questions, but his expression remained a mask. The truth, raw and unfiltered, settled over us all.
“Lennox?”
