Chapter 73
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Zurich | En Route to Hotel Belvedere
Late Evening (CET)
Kristina leaned back in the car seat, the exhaustion from the cemetery and the weight of the day catching up with her. The soft hum of the engine, the muted shuffle of tires on wet cobblestones, and the chill of the night made her eyelids impossibly heavy.
She sat between Lucian and Eli, a quiet compromise of space that felt both familiar and intimate. Her head rested on Lucian’s shoulder this time, soft and unresisting, while her thighs and legs sprawled across Eli’s lap, curling slightly as though seeking grounding.
Her breathing evened, slow and steady, the tension of the day draining out with every exhale. Neither man spoke. Silence filled the car, punctuated by the shuffle of tires on wet cobblestones. The city passed in soft blurs of light, winter dim beyond the windows.
Lucian’s eyes remained fixed on the road, yet his peripheral attention lingered on Kristina. He adjusted his hold slightly, careful to keep her comfortable, feeling the subtle weight of her trust pressing lightly against him.
Eli, in contrast, kept his gaze forward but couldn’t resist a soft glance downward, noting the way her hand rested near his, the slight curl of her fingers, the way her legs fit naturally across his lap. Their shared glances, brief and charged, held a silent understanding—an acknowledgment of the rare, unspoken connection they all navigated.
Kristina’s chest rose and fell gently against Lucian, her head shifting minutely with the motion of the car. Every so often, a strand of hair brushed across her cheek, and both men subconsciously leaned slightly closer, as though instinctively shielding her from the world outside.
And then, without warning, she let herself fully surrender to sleep, soft and unguarded. The weight of the cemetery, the moments they had shared, the unspoken emotions of the day—all of it fell away as she rested between them.
Lucian and Eli exchanged the briefest of glances, subtle and wordless. Neither needed to voice what was already understood: she was safe, she was here, and this—this quiet, fragile moment—was theirs alone.
The car continued through the silent streets, carrying them back to the hotel, the snow falling gently around the city as if respecting the rare, delicate calm in the back seat.
Zurich | Hotel Belvedere
The car pulled up to the hotel entrance, the soft crunch of snow under the tires echoing in the quiet night. The driver cut the engine and reached for the door. Kristina stirred slightly, still half-asleep, murmuring something indistinct.
Eli was out first, moving to the opposite side of the rear door. Lucian leaned over, gently guiding Kristina toward Eli, who caught her effortlessly in his arms. She barely shifted, her body heavy with exhaustion from the day.
“Got her,” Eli murmured softly, careful not to startle her. Lucian slid out of the car, shutting the door quietly behind him. Together, the two men moved toward the hotel entrance, their steps measured, unhurried. The weight of Kristina between them was more than physical.
At the base of the marble steps, Ash, Vex, and Sebastian emerged from the lobby, pausing mid-step as their eyes fell on the unusual sight: Eli carrying Kristina, Lucian walking at his side. Surprise flickered across their faces, quickly tempered by understanding.
“Long day?” Ash asked, voice low, more observation than question.
Eli nodded, keeping his arms steady. “Exhausting. She fell asleep in the car.”
Sebastian’s eyes softened, scanning Kristina’s relaxed form. “How’s she doing?”
Lucian’s hand brushed lightly against her arm without moving her. “She’s… okay. Just tired.”
Vex smirked but didn’t comment, reading the silent exchange between the two pairs of men.
The group moved toward the elevator. Eli stepped in first, carrying Kristina carefully in his arms, her head resting gently against his shoulder. Lucian followed closely, walking beside them, attentive but hands free.
Ash, Vex, and Sebastian followed, close enough to offer assistance if needed but careful to respect the fragile quiet of the moment.
Inside the elevator, Lucian leaned slightly toward the three men, speaking softly. “Tomorrow afternoon, we fly back to California. Make sure everything is ready for departure—passports, bags, and transport arrangements.”
Sebastian nodded. “Understood. We’ll handle it.”
Eli added, his voice gentle, careful not to stir her, “Her energy’s gone. Tomorrow, when we return to California, she’ll need a quiet evening and no surprises.”
Ash grinned faintly. “Noted. Quiet evening, got it.”
The elevator ride felt slower than usual, the hum of the mechanism blending with Kristina’s even breaths. When the doors opened to their floor, Lucian shifted slightly, making sure her head was supported, and stepped out, moving toward the suite. Eli followed, still holding her, careful with each step.
Ash, Vex, and Sebastian turned in the opposite direction toward their own suites, their footsteps fading down the corridor. They did not follow.
Inside the suite, the hush of warmth wrapped around them. Eli guided Kristina gently onto the bed, her lashes resting against her cheeks, her breathing soft and even. Lucian slipped her coat from her shoulders and unlaced her boots with deliberate care, and together they changed her into something soft. Every motion was tender, unhurried—the trust beneath it more striking than the act itself.
When it came to her clothes, both men hesitated. The silence between them stretched, weighted with respect and the unspoken history they shared with her.
Eli’s voice was quiet, almost reluctant. “She deserves to rest without discomfort.”
Lucian met his gaze and inclined his head, the decision already written in his eyes. Together, they moved with tenderness, not haste—changing her into a loose, soft shirt, making sure every gesture carried only care. It wasn’t the act itself that struck them, but the trust beneath it—how deeply she had allowed herself to be vulnerable in their presence.
When she was settled, Eli drew the blankets around her, smoothing the fabric at her shoulder as though sealing her into safety. For a moment, Lucian’s hand lingered near hers, not touching, but close enough that the nearness said everything words could not.
They changed as well, the room dim and quiet, the snow outside whispering against the glass. When at last they lay down, Lucian on one side and Eli on the other, they did so with a care that spoke more of devotion than caution. The air between them was thick with unspoken promises—that she would not wake alone, that neither of them would let her drift through the night unguarded.
Cocooned in warmth, Kristina slept in peace, unaware of the vigil beside her. And in the stillness, with the snow falling endlessly beyond the windows, the three of them found a fragile kind of closeness—an intimacy not of passion, but of trust, quiet and absolute.
Sunday | January 23, 2011
Zurich | Hotel Belvedere | Suite 1107
Morning (CET)
Kristina stirred first, though she did not move right away. Her eyes opened slowly to the muted light filtering through the curtains, the kind that softened every edge of the room. For a moment, she simply lay still, letting herself register the quiet.
On either side of her came the steady rhythm of breath—low, even, almost like the faintest of purrs. She turned her gaze slightly and found Lucian, still asleep, his face relaxed in a way she rarely saw. On her other side, Eli mirrored the same calm, his features softened by rest, as though the night had unknotted something within him. On either side, Lucian and Eli slept turned toward her, as though her presence was the quiet axis holding them in place.
She glanced down at herself then, noting the soft shirt draped over her frame. A quiet sigh of relief escaped her chest, a comfort settling into her bones. They had thought of her, cared for her, even in her sleep.
Her eyes lingered on them one by one, first Lucian, then Eli. There was a serenity in their closeness she had not expected to find—something fragile, unspoken, yet deeply real. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to simply observe, and breathe, and belong to the moment.
Careful not to disturb either of them, Kristina eased herself from beneath the blankets. The mattress shifted under her, but neither Lucian nor Eli stirred—both still lost to the calm of sleep. She lingered for a heartbeat, watching them once more, then padded silently across the suite, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.
At the small desk by the window, she reached for the room’s phone. Her voice was hushed when the receptionist answered. “Good morning. I’d like to reserve a table for six in the restaurant—for breakfast.” A pause, then a quiet thank you before she set the receiver back into its cradle.
Pulling her phone from the nightstand, she typed out a quick message to Ash, Vex, and Sebastian:
Breakfast downstairs. Table for six. 9 a.m. Don’t be late.
She smiled faintly at her own words, imagining their reactions—Vex’s grumble, Ash’s steady agreement, Sebastian’s soft amusement. The weight in her chest felt lighter somehow, replaced with a sense of quiet purpose.
The snow still fell outside, soft against the glass, but inside she carried a private warmth—the kind born not just from safety, but from the quiet certainty of belonging.
Lucian’s eyes blinked open to the soft spill of morning light across the suite. The space beside him was warm but empty. Turning his head, he found Kristina perched on the couch, her legs folded beneath her, idly flipping through a hotel magazine. She hadn’t looked up, but somehow, he knew she was aware of him watching.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she murmured, eyes still on the page.
A low chuckle escaped him. “Nothing gets past you, does it?” he said, half in amusement, half in awe. She had a way of sensing things—like catching whispers the world hadn’t spoken aloud yet.
Kristina finally closed the magazine and stood, padding softly back toward the bed. She climbed onto it and slid into her place, curling onto her side with her back to Eli, who remained fast asleep. Facing Lucian now, she offered a small, almost sleepy smile. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he echoed, his voice gentle.
He studied her for a moment before adding, “We’ll be flying back this afternoon. Everything’s already arranged.”
Her expression shifted, lips pressing into a pout.
Lucian tilted his head, a trace of curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Why the pout?”
“I don’t like your plane,” Kristina said at last, voice edged with playful indignation. “So much flirtiness going around there.”
Lucian’s brow furrowed, genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”
Kristina’s pout deepened as she tucked her chin against the pillow. “That flight attendant. Melissa.” She drew out the name with deliberate sharpness, her eyes narrowing a fraction. “On the way to Zurich she couldn’t stop hovering around Eli. Smiling, laughing at everything he said, leaning in as if the aisle were her private stage.”
Her tone carried sarcasm, but underneath was something else—something Lucian caught easily.
“She even touched his arm,” Kristina added, her expression tightening. “Twice. Once to hand him water, once to collect the glass. You’d think she was auditioning for something.”
Lucian’s mouth curved slowly, the amusement in his eyes tempered by how seriously she seemed to take it. He leaned toward her, voice warm. “So this is what has you pouting? Melissa.”
Kristina rolled her eyes, though there was the faintest flush on her cheeks. “Don’t laugh. I’m just saying—it was distracting. Too much smiling, too much… everything. I don’t like planes that come with that kind of turbulence.”
The teasing edge in her words softened as she bit her lip, almost shy.
Then she added, quieter, as if the words had slipped past her own defenses: “I don’t like Savannah. I don’t like Melissa. I just don’t like it when someone’s flirting with the people I love.”
Lucian stilled. The word detonated quietly inside him. Love. Once at her parents’ ashes, now here, unguarded. It lodged beneath his ribs, fierce and impossible to ignore.
Before he could respond, another voice broke in, low and drowsy.
“Who’s flirting with who?”
Eli’s voice was thick with sleep, his arm already sliding around Kristina’s waist. His eyes stayed closed as he shifted closer, pressing his face into the curve of her shoulder and neck. He nuzzled once, then left a slow, deliberate kiss against her skin.
Kristina didn’t flinch, but the goosebumps that rippled over her arms betrayed her.
“Good morning,” Eli murmured against her.
Her voice gentled, tender in a way she rarely allowed. “Good morning,” she whispered back, her hand brushing over his arm where it held her.
Lucian sat back, the moment drawing a rare silence from him. Between her slip of confession, Eli’s unthinking affection, and the way Kristina softened into it, he felt the fragile weight of something he could not quite name. Something alive, something dangerous, something his heart couldn’t let go of.
And as the morning light spilled across the suite, the three of them lay there in a quiet equilibrium—unsteady, complicated, but real. For now, that was enough.
In the hush of the snow and the warmth of belonging, silence carried more than words ever could.
—To be continued.
