Chapter 63
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Zurich | Café Wilderblick
Evening (CET)
They had just finished the last of their shared dessert—something chocolate and difficult to pronounce—when a voice cut in from the side.
“Well, if this isn’t fate.”
Kristina looked up first.
A woman stood beside their table, smiling like she’d wandered in from a romantic comedy and believed she was the plot twist. Tall. Striking. Dressed in a cream sweater and a camel coat that probably cost more than their hotel stay. And unmistakably familiar.
Kristina’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Eli blinked. “Valerie?”
Valerie tilted her head, pleased that he remembered. “You do still recognize me.”
Kristina’s posture stayed relaxed—but alert. She had definitely seen this woman before. California. Some overpriced fusion place in L.A. A bump-in that hadn’t been accidental then, either.
“I can’t believe this,” Valerie went on, laughing like the timing was divine. “Zurich of all places? I swear, the universe always brings people back around when they’re meant to reconnect.”
Eli gave a tight, polite smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Holiday,” Valerie said breezily. “Well—solo soul-searching-slash-ski-retreat, but same idea. And now look who I run into.” She leaned a little closer toward the table. “Tell me that’s not fate.”
Kristina didn’t move. Didn’t smile.
She just said, flatly: “Can’t you see he’s on a date?”
Valerie blinked. The smile faltered just enough to reveal the crack underneath. “Oh,” she said, eyes darting toward Kristina now—as if just noticing she wasn’t alone. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Kristina’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. “Then, don’t.”
Valerie let out a short, breathy laugh. “Right. Well—I just thought I’d say hi. You never responded to my texts, Eli. I was actually hoping to see you again in California.”
That got Kristina’s attention.
Her gaze sharpened. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just suddenly… razor-focused.
Eli’s expression didn’t change much, but his voice cooled slightly. “I didn’t think a response was necessary.”
Valerie gave a sheepish shrug, but the performative kind. “Well, now you know where to find me. Maybe I’ll see you around?”
Eli didn’t answer.
Kristina did. “Unlikely.”
That ended it.
Valerie gave one last glance at Eli—longer than necessary—then turned with a flick of her hair and disappeared into the warm murmur of other tables.
Silence settled again. The hum of wine and conversation flowed on around them. Eli leaned back slightly, exhaling.
Kristina sipped her wine. “Fate, huh?”
Eli gave a half-smile. “Yeah. She’s funny like that.”
Kristina didn’t nod. “She’s persistent.”
Eli paused. Then said quietly, “She doesn’t matter.”
Kristina looked at him. “She said you didn’t respond to her texts.”
“I didn’t,” he said simply. “Didn’t see the point. I don’t owe her anything.”
Kristina didn’t answer right away. Her expression stayed unreadable.
Then she glanced back at the door where Valerie had gone, her voice dry. “She doesn’t have any sense of awareness. At all. Maybe glance around before diving into some fate-based monologue about reconnecting. Like maybe check if the guy is with someone before swooning.”
Eli huffed out a low laugh. “So… this is a date?”
Kristina arched a brow. “You ordered the wine.”
Eli smiled. “I like this version of you.”
She didn’t return the smile. Not immediately.
Instead, she looked out the window for a moment, like recalibrating.
Eli watched her. “Were you jealous?”
Kristina didn’t answer.
But she didn’t need to. Her jaw ticked, just barely. Her wine glass lifted with a little more purpose. And her silence was louder than any admission.
When she finally looked back at him, the heat behind her eyes wasn’t just from the wine or the restaurant glow.
It was irritation. Sharp. Grounded. Protective.
She said nothing about the jealousy.
Just, “Next time she walks into a room, you should probably duck.”
Eli laughed softly. “Noted.”
And the moment passed—not forgotten, but settled.
Whatever else the evening brought, at least now, it was clear:
She might not say it outright.
But she was most definitely not not jealous.
Zurich | Hotel Belvedere | Suite 1107
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Kristina walked in first, silent as she stepped out of her boots and set her coat down neatly over the back of the chair. The room was dim, touched only by the soft glow of city lights slipping through the windows. Eli followed, slower, his eyes on her the whole time.
She wasn’t angry. But she wasn’t speaking either. Her shoulders were tighter than usual, her silence heavier. She moved with that careful kind of stillness that said: I'm trying not to overreact.
Eli didn’t press.
He waited until she stopped near the window, her arms folded loosely, staring out at the lake she wasn’t really seeing.
Then he walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin gently on her shoulder.
His voice was quiet. “You’re the only woman I have my eyes on.”
Kristina didn’t move.
“I love you, Kristina,” he murmured. “You know that.”
Still, she didn’t answer. But her body softened, subtle but real, beneath his touch.
Finally, she turned—slowly, deliberately—and looked up at him. Her eyes didn’t glisten. They didn’t flare with anything big. But they held something. Something close and vulnerable.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.
Eli cupped her cheek. “You’re allowed not to,” he said. “That’s fine. I just don’t want you to be jealous of anyone… because they’re nothing compared to you.”
Something flickered in her gaze—then broke.
She kissed him.
Not rushed. Not delicate either. Slow at first, firm with intent, her hand slipping behind his neck as she pulled him closer. Eli responded immediately, his arms tightening around her, grounding her as the space between them vanished.
The second kiss hit harder. Rougher.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him in, their breath mingling now, heat rising like a tide neither of them wanted to stop.
His hands found her waist, her back—wherever they could hold her.
She pulled back just long enough to look at him—one breath, no words—then fisted the fabric at his chest and tore his shirt open. Buttons scattered across the hardwood floor.
Eli barely flinched. Just kissed her harder.
Their mouths collided again—more fire than finesse now—and Kristina backed him toward the bed, her hands all over him. This wasn’t about being careful. It wasn’t about control.
It was about claiming something that already belonged to them.
And tonight, she wasn't going to be quiet about it.
Kristina’s breath hitched as Eli’s mouth moved from hers to the curve of her neck, every kiss deliberate, every touch unhurried but charged. She felt the weight of him over her, the way his hands mapped her like he already knew every inch—but still wanted to relearn it all. Slowly. Thoroughly.
Eli pressed her down into the mattress, his forearms braced on either side of her as he hovered just enough to see her eyes—flushed cheeks, parted lips, pupils dark and dilated.
His voice was low, rough. “Stop me now, or there’s no going back.”
Kristina looked up at him, breath shallow, voice steady. “Keep going.”
Something tightened behind Eli’s eyes—something primal, something reverent. And then he kissed her again, fierce now, like restraint was no longer necessary.
Whatever lines they hadn’t crossed before—there weren’t any left.
He pressed her deeper into the bed as their bodies tangled, already half-undressed, his shirt discarded, her dress somewhere forgotten at the foot of the bed. The heat between them wasn’t sudden—it had been simmering for months, years, lifetimes maybe—and now it rushed forward, consuming.
Her skin was soft beneath his hands, and he touched her like he meant it—trailing from her hips to her ribs to the delicate line just beneath her breast, savoring every gasp, every shift of her body beneath his. Kristina arched into him, her fingers skating down his spine, pulling him in closer until there was nothing left between them but need.
Eli's mouth found her collarbone, her shoulder, the inside of her thigh—slow, reverent, worshipful. Each kiss drew a sound from her lips, quiet but undeniable. She clung to him like gravity, nails digging gently into his back, guiding him without words.
Kristina rolled with him, straddling his hips in a single fluid motion, taking control for a breathless moment. Her hands splayed across his chest, exploring, memorizing, her movements confident but aching with feeling. She dragged her lips across his jaw, then down his throat, the heat of her breath making him shudder.
“You’re all I see,” he murmured against her shoulder. “All I want.”
She kissed him hard in response—fingers threading into his hair, hips grinding slowly against his—drawing out a low sound from the back of his throat. Not just for passion, but for truth. Because she felt it too.
When he pulled her down again, guiding her beneath him, everything aligned. They moved in a rhythm that felt inevitable—deep, unhurried, achingly real. He filled her in a single thrust that stole the air from both their lungs, and for a moment, they just breathed—foreheads pressed, eyes locked.
Their bodies moved together like they’d been waiting for this. For each other. There was no rush, only surrender—each touch grounding, each moan honest. Every slow thrust, every whispered name, was a vow.
When they finally broke apart—sweat-slicked, gasping, clutching each other—it wasn’t because the night had ended.
It was because something deeper had begun.
Thursday | January 20, 2011
Morning (CET)
Soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, painting slow gold across the suite’s quiet interior. The world outside Zurich was already stirring—but inside, time hadn’t quite caught up yet.
Kristina lay half-covered beneath the sheets, her hair tousled, one arm stretched loosely over the pillow beside her. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing had shifted—lighter now, not sleep but something gentler. A waking that didn’t need to rush.
Eli was already awake.
He sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, one hand wrapped around a mug of hotel coffee that hadn’t yet gone cold. His gaze wasn’t distant—it was on her.
Quietly watching her breathe.
She shifted a little, the sheet sliding down to reveal the curve of her bare shoulder. Her skin was marked faintly where his hands had been—barely-there imprints of closeness. Of night turned into morning.
Kristina opened her eyes.
Eli didn’t speak immediately. He just smiled—small, warm, a little tired but full.
She studied his face for a moment. “How long have you been up?”
“A little while.” His voice was low, rough with sleep. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
Her eyes flicked to the clock. “You should’ve. We’re going to be late checking in.”
He leaned back slightly, eyes still on her. “Let them wait.”
Kristina let out a soft breath, part exhale, part laugh. “You’ve changed.”
He arched a brow. “Since last night?”
“Since before,” she said, quieter now. “Since… before everything.”
Eli set the mug down. He turned to face her more fully, one leg folded onto the mattress, hand reaching for hers beneath the covers.
“I don’t think it’s change,” he said. “I think it’s clarity.”
Her fingers laced with his. Her thumb brushed his palm once, twice—absent, intimate.
They sat in the quiet a little longer.
And then Kristina said, softly, “We crossed a line last night.”
Eli’s jaw didn’t tighten. His voice didn’t retreat. “Yeah. We did.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
He looked at her—really looked at her.
“I wanted to cross it,” he said. “With you. I’ve never wanted anything more clearly in my life.”
That stopped her. Not because she didn’t believe it. But because it still felt like something that should’ve scared her—and somehow didn’t.
He leaned forward, hand brushing her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was feather-light now, nothing like the heat of the night before—but it still made her heart flutter.
“I meant what I said last night,” he murmured. “You’re the only one I see.”
Kristina didn’t speak right away. But she leaned in, forehead resting against his.
“I’m not good at this,” she said softly.
“I know,” Eli whispered. “I’m not asking you to be.”
Another quiet passed.
Then she added, almost to herself, “But I want to be.”
Eli’s breath hitched just slightly. His hands slid to her waist, grounding.
“Then stay,” he said. “For as long as it’s real. For as long as you feel it.”
Kristina nodded. Once. No fear in her eyes—just something that looked a lot like peace.
The world could wait a few more minutes.
And for now, the only thing that mattered was the space between them—warm, tangled, honest.
Exactly where they needed to be.
Some truths only rise in the quiet, after the leap has already been made.
—To be continued.
