Chapter 76
2163words
Lucian Sinclair Estate
Early Evening
The SUVs eased through the gates of the Sinclair estate just as the California sun was beginning its slow dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns. Kristina pressed her palms against her knees in the backseat, eyes closed for a brief, stolen moment, trying to gather herself after the long flight. Eli’s hand brushed hers instinctively, just enough to offer grounding without words. Lucian sat opposite, calm but clearly fatigued, his posture straight yet hinting at the strain of days spent navigating Zurich’s tension.
Following behind in the second vehicle, Ash, Vex, and Sebastian maintained a discreet distance, the hum of their SUV quieter than the first. Though they had traveled separately, the shared fatigue and quiet anticipation were unmistakable—they all felt it, the weight of decisions made and those yet to come.
By the time they reached the front door, all six were carrying the weight of travel, decisions, and unfinished business. Lucian’s voice, quiet but commanding, cut through the soft shuffle of boots on the polished floor.
“Living room. Now,” he instructed.
They obeyed without hesitation, Kristina loosening her coat as they stepped into the familiar warmth of the estate. The lights overhead glimmered softly, reflecting off the rich wood panels and muted tones of the living room. Even in the comfort of home, exhaustion clung to them like a second skin—the fatigue of planes, of schedules, and of Zurich’s unresolved negotiations evident in the small slumps of shoulders, the slow movements, the way Kristina lingered a moment too long on the sofa before lowering herself into it. Ash, Vex, and Sebastian took positions nearby, quietly observant yet relaxed, matching the group’s rhythm.
Lucian sank into the armchair opposite her, fingers steepled. “Zurich,” he began, voice steady but carrying an edge, “was… necessary, but it achieved less than I’d hoped. The Kessler Group—they tried to manipulate us. Fischer… he’s handling it, but I’m not convinced he’ll be clean enough to salvage their reputation.”
Eli leaned back against the sofa arm, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll have to wait and see what Fischer does. If he can produce clean documents, it’ll have to be done under our terms—and when that time comes, the Kessler Group and Fischer will come to us here, in California. No more Zurich surprises.”
Lucian’s gaze swept over the room, taking in the subtle exhaustion etched into each of them. “Tomorrow, we regroup. Rest. Nothing else moves until we’re ready.”
He turned toward Sebastian, who had quietly followed them into the estate, hands at his sides, alert but unobtrusive. “Sebastian. Contact the office. Postpone everything for tomorrow. Everyone here needs a full day to recover before we deal with anything else.”
Sebastian inclined his head, already reaching for his phone. “Understood.”
Kristina exhaled, the tension of the past few days loosening just slightly. Eli’s hand found hers again, a gentle squeeze. Lucian remained poised, yet even he allowed a flicker of relief to cross his features as the room fell into a quiet, shared pause—the unspoken acknowledgment of exhaustion, of safety, and of the calm that only home could provide. Ash and Vex exchanged small, silent nods, their presence a grounding reassurance that even in the quiet of the estate, the team remained complete and ready.
The house seemed to exhale with them as the meeting broke apart. No one lingered, no one searched for food or drink—there was nothing left to say. The fatigue of Zurich, of flights and negotiations, pressed heavier than hunger or words.
Sebastian went first, his quiet steps carrying him down the hall without a word. Ash and Vex trailed behind, their banter muted for once, subdued by the same exhaustion that dulled them all.
That left Kristina, Eli, and Lucian standing together for a brief, silent moment in the living room. None of them spoke, but the closeness lingered—the quiet reminder of Zurich still binding them even as their bodies begged for rest. Eli’s hand brushed her shoulder, Lucian’s steady gaze met hers, and without words they agreed: the night was over.
They moved together up the staircase, their footsteps slow, heavy with the weight of days that had blurred into nights. At the landing, they paused, as if by instinct. Lucian turned to her first, his voice low but steady. “Sleep well, Kristina.”
Eli added softly, “Yeah… sleep well.”
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. But when both men shifted to turn down the opposite hall toward their rooms, she hesitated. “Wait.”
They stopped, glancing back at her. Her hand tightened on the banister. “Would you…” She drew in a breath. “Would you both sleep in my room tonight?”
The question hung in the air, vulnerable and unguarded. Lucian and Eli exchanged a brief glance—no hesitation, just a quiet acknowledgment between them. Then their eyes returned to her, and together, they gave the answer she had already known.
The estate grew still after that, the day closing not with separation, but with a silent choice to remain together.
Lucian said quietly, “Okay. Let us just get changed and we’ll come to you.”
Kristina nodded, a little of the weight easing from her face. “Alright.” She turned first toward her room, shoulders softening as she walked down the hall. Lucian and Eli followed her with their eyes until she disappeared inside, the door closing behind her. Only then did they each turn toward their own rooms.
Lucian Sinclair Estate | Kristina’s Bedroom
Kristina’s room greeted her with the same order it always held—an almost obsessive neatness that belonged only to her. Everything was in its place: the books aligned by height on the shelves, her writing desk perfectly cleared save for a single pen laid parallel to the edge, the curtains drawn so evenly that no fold interrupted their symmetry. The space breathed precision, quiet control, a mirror of the part of her that still clung to discipline when everything else in life felt unpredictable.
She set her bags down neatly by the dresser, slipping out of her jacket with careful movements. The small gift bag from Zurich she set on the side table, angled just so, as if even it had to belong. Then she disappeared into the bathroom to wash up.
When she reemerged, her hair damp and loose, she had traded her travel clothes for an oversized shirt that hung comfortably against her frame.
Before settling, she moved to the bed, pulling back the covers and smoothing them out with practiced hands. Four pillows waited, arranged just so—two pairs stacked neatly atop each other, as though she had measured their alignment. The sight gave her a small, quiet comfort, the same way it always did.
Just as she finished, a knock tapped against the door.
She opened it to find Eli and Lucian. Both of them lingered at the threshold for a moment, their hesitation palpable. It wasn’t fear exactly, but memory—Ash and Vex had once joked, with deadly seriousness in their eyes, that stepping into Kristina’s bedroom felt like standing inside a forbidden temple.
Eli smirked as he crossed the doorway. “You’re not gonna kill us if we touch something accidentally in here, right?”
Kristina arched a brow, but the faintest tug of a smile betrayed her. “Depends on what you touch.”
Lucian gave a low chuckle as he followed them inside, the tension easing into something lighter—just enough to carry them through the evening.
They stepped inside together, the soft click of the door closing behind them. Lucian’s and Eli’s eyes flicked briefly to the small Zurich gift bag on the table, but neither commented.
Eli let his gaze wander across the room, taking in the space with easy curiosity before landing back on her.
“So this is what your room looks like. Didn’t think I’d ever get the invite,” he said, the words simple but touched with quiet amusement.
Kristina’s lips curved, fleeting but warm, as if to deflect the weight of it. Before she could answer, Lucian’s voice cut smoothly into the pause.
“Careful,” he said, deadpan, “she might start charging admission.”
The unexpected dryness of it broke through the moment. Kristina laughed first, quick and genuine, and Eli’s chuckle followed close behind.
Eli’s gaze drifted toward the bed, and his mouth curved in a half-smile. “Isn’t it a little early for us to be calling it a night?”
Lucian’s reply came smooth and dry. “Depends what exactly you had in mind.”
Kristina let out a sharp breath, snatched the nearest pillow, and hurled it at him. It bounced off Lucian’s shoulder without so much as shifting his expression, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
Eli broke into laughter, the sound warm and unrestrained. “God, I missed this.”
Kristina shook her head, but she was smiling now, a softness tugging through the edges of her mock-annoyance. With a sigh, she collapsed backward onto the bed, arms spread wide as if surrendering. “I’m done with both of you.”
“That’s my cue,” Eli said, dropping down beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. He turned his head to look at her, eyes glinting with amusement.
Lucian lingered, standing a beat longer, watching the two of them. Then, with a quiet exhale, he sat at the edge of the bed. The motion carried no fanfare, no announcement—just a presence that settled around them, steady and undeniable.
Kristina lay sprawled across the mattress, still wearing the oversized shirt that made her look smaller somehow, softer. Eli propped himself up on one elbow beside her, his grin mellowing as he studied her face.
“You always make it look so easy,” he murmured.
Kristina tilted her head toward him, brow furrowing lightly. “What does that mean?”
Eli’s gaze softened. “Letting us in.”
The words seemed to hang in the air, delicate and unguarded. Kristina blinked at him, caught somewhere between flustered and moved, until the sound of Lucian’s low voice cut in from the edge of the bed.
“She doesn’t let anyone in,” Lucian said quietly, his eyes fixed on her. “Not really. Just us.”
The hush that followed wasn’t awkward—it was weighted, but in a way that wrapped around them, binding rather than pressing. Kristina shifted, turning onto her side to face Eli, her arm brushing lightly against his.
Lucian eased back onto the mattress then, his presence folding in closer, until the three of them were stretched across the same bed.
Kristina let out a small laugh under her breath. “This feels ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” Eli said, his smile faint, “but it also feels right.”
Her gaze flicked from one to the other—Eli’s earnest eyes, Lucian’s steady intensity—and she felt the warmth of both their nearness, the kind that settled beneath the skin.
She exhaled, almost a whisper. “Yeah… it does.”
Lucian shifted closer, his hand brushing over the blanket until his fingers found her wrist. He didn’t hold her—just traced the steady beat beneath her skin, like he was quietly memorizing it. From there, his touch drifted upward, slow and unhurried, until he tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. His knuckles grazed her cheek, soft and careful, and the intimacy of it made Eli glance over with a crooked grin.
Kristina swallowed, her lips curving into something mischievous. “You know Papa would probably have a heart attack if he found out about this…”
Eli barked out a laugh, dropping his forehead against her shoulder.
“Great, can’t wait to be Maxim’s least favorite son-in-law candidate.”
Lucian didn’t so much as blink. His hand lingered at her jaw, thumb brushing lightly along the line of her chin. “Maxim knows you better than anyone. If this is what you want…he’ll accept it.”
Kristina giggled at his calm certainty, half teased, half touched. “You really think so?”
“I don’t think,” Lucian said smoothly, his mouth tilting into a smirk. “I know.”
That made Eli groan, throwing himself back dramatically onto the bed. “Perfect. One of you doesn’t fear Maxim, the other wants to test him, and I’m the guy volunteering for an early grave.”
Kristina laughed, her eyes sparkling as she leaned over to poke Eli’s chest. “Face it—you’re already doomed.”
“Yeah,” Eli muttered, grinning even as he let her win, “but at least I’m doomed in very attractive company.”
Their laughter lingered, softening into something quieter, warmer. The kind of ease that made the three of them feel less like they were testing boundaries and more like they had simply arrived where they were always meant to be.
Kristina pressed her face into the pillow, surrounded by their warmth, their breathing steady against her like a lullaby. For once, there was no Zurich, no Maxim, no battles waiting in the dark—only this fragile quiet. She let her eyes close, knowing sleep would find her between them.
Even in the calm, decisions linger, waiting for the dawn to test them.
—To be continued.
