Chapter 60
2119words
Zurich | Hotel Belvedere | Suite 1107
Late Morning (CET)
The day outside was so bright it almost felt dishonest.
Sunlight spilled across the hardwood floor in soft, golden sheets—warm and quiet, like nothing had happened in the hours before. Like the storm hadn’t split the sky in half. Like she hadn’t screamed. Like Eli hadn’t held her through it.
Kristina stirred slowly, eyes fluttering open to the unfamiliar ceiling above her. Then to the shape beside her. Then to the feeling—his arm draped around her waist, her body tucked easily into the curve of his.
His breathing was even, deep and slow, the kind that only came after absolute exhaustion. He was still asleep.
She shifted slightly—just enough to look at him. The way the sunlight touched his face. The way his lashes brushed the tops of his cheeks. The way he was here—still beside her.
There were no more shadows on the walls. No more thunder threatening to split her in two. Just him. Just the quiet.
She didn’t remember falling asleep. Only the trembling, the cold, the way his voice steadied her breath. And then... this.
Kristina blinked once, slowly, letting the weight of it all settle. Then, gently, her fingertips found his chest—bare, warm beneath her hand. Her touch was tentative at first, tracing lightly across his collarbone, then slowly lower—across the rise and fall of his ribs, the curve of his stomach. Not out of seduction. Out of something more fragile. More human.
She wasn’t searching for anything.
She was just remembering that he was real.
But before her hand could go farther, Eli’s fingers closed around hers.
Kristina stilled.
His eyes opened—not suddenly, not startled. Just steady. Awake. And looking directly at her.
For the first time in a long time, he really looked at her.
Kristina didn’t flinch.
She left her hand where it was.
She held his gaze with a quiet sort of certainty, eyes soft but unflinching.
And then, with the faintest curve of her lips, she said, “Good morning.”
Eli didn’t answer right away.
He just watched her—eyes still clouded from sleep, but locked onto hers like they were the only thing anchoring him. His hand was still wrapped around hers, their fingers tangled somewhere between stillness and something more.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
Kristina nodded once. “Yeah.”
Then, quieter: “Are you?”
His mouth twitched. “I think I’m still catching up.”
“To what?”
He exhaled through his nose. “That you’re really here.”
Kristina’s gaze faltered for just a second—then returned to his, steady. “I never left.”
Eli’s fingers trailed from her hand to her wrist. “But you could’ve.”
She shook her head, voice almost a whisper. “Not last night.”
The silence stretched. Not awkward. Not uncertain. Just... charged.
Then Eli lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. His fingers lingered at her temple, then traced gently down her cheek.
“You’re not scared anymore,” he murmured.
“I am,” she said. “Just not of the storm.”
Their eyes held.
And when he leaned in, it wasn’t abrupt. It wasn’t sudden.
It was slow.
Intentional.
Just before their lips met, Kristina whispered, “Don’t stop.”
And Eli didn’t.
His lips met hers—soft, slow, like something they had both imagined a hundred times but hadn’t dared to speak aloud. There was no tension, no resistance. Just quiet surrender.
Kristina’s hand rose instinctively, resting flat against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm. Eli’s arm slid around her waist, pulling her just a little closer until their bodies aligned under the sheets, warm and real and undeniably present.
They kissed again—longer this time. Less tentative. Like the seconds had given them permission.
Eli’s fingers moved to the curve of her back, his hand splaying there like he wanted to memorize the way she fit against him. Kristina’s leg brushed over his. Her other hand traced the quiet strength beneath his skin—the part that hadn’t changed—but also the gentleness that had.
Still, nothing was rushed.
Every movement was slow. Deliberate.
A conversation without words.
When they finally parted—just inches, just breath—Kristina kept her forehead against his, eyes still closed.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
Eli brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I never stopped.”
Kristina exhaled, shaky but steadying. She opened her eyes, and he was still looking at her—like he couldn’t believe she was real.
There was nothing urgent now.
Just this.
Just them.
Finding each other again in the stillness of morning.
Kristina’s fingers stilled against his skin. Her eyes were still on his—open, searching. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t move away.
Neither did he.
For a few seconds, it was just the sound of the city in the distance. The whisper of the wind through slightly parted curtains. And the unmistakable weight of everything they hadn’t said… pressed between them like breath and silk.
Then Eli blinked slowly. His gaze dropped just slightly—then darted back up.
“…I just realized I’m still very naked,” he murmured.
Kristina let out the softest huff of breath—half laugh, half sigh. “You think?”
He grinned—lazy, crooked, a little sheepish. “I mean… I wasn’t sure if we’d crossed some invisible decency line.”
Kristina shifted just enough to look down—then up again. “If we did, I don’t remember objecting.”
That earned a real smile from him.
But instead of pushing further, Eli nudged his head back into the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “Well, if you didn’t object, and I’m already naked, then clearly I have the moral high ground here.”
Kristina raised a brow. “That’s not how high ground works.”
“Don’t ruin this for me,” he mumbled, one arm slipping around her waist again as if he had no intention of letting her get too far.
She stayed exactly where she was—her fingers curling once more against his chest. And this time, neither of them rushed to speak.
Eli exhaled lightly. “Lucian’s gonna kill me for this.”
Kristina didn’t look away. “I don’t think so.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. Just still.
Like something between them had finally found room to breathe.
Eli’s thumb brushed slowly across the back of her hand, then stilled.
He stayed. And so did she.
The quiet stretched between them, soft as the sunlight slipping through the curtains.
Kristina shifted slightly, her palm still pressed to Eli’s chest, her fingers lightly curled like they didn’t want to move. His arm was still around her waist, fingers slipping just under the edge of her shirt, the contact subtle but grounding.
Neither of them spoke.
A soft growl broke the stillness.
Kristina blinked once. Eli blinked back.
“That wasn’t me,” he said.
Kristina raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Ninety percent. But also… I didn’t eat since, what—breakfast yesterday?”
“Technically it was lunch.”
“Oh, then yes,” he said seriously. “I’m starving. But you definitely beat me to it.”
Kristina sighed, her face burying slightly into his shoulder to hide the quiet laugh that escaped. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not. I’m making it survivable.”
His fingers traced idle lines across her back, gentle, thoughtful. “You okay?” he added softly.
She nodded. “I think so.”
Then, reluctantly, she pulled back a little—just enough to glance toward the bedside clock. “It’s almost noon.”
Eli didn’t move. “That’s fake news.”
Kristina rolled her eyes, easing herself upright with the blanket around her. “You promised you’d be functional today.”
“I did not. Lucian promised I would be functional today.”
“You’re lucky we have the whole afternoon off.”
Eli sat up slowly, sheet barely holding on around his waist. He scrubbed a hand over his face, his hair a mess of soft waves. “Remind me to thank him. Or punch him. I’m not sure yet.”
Kristina was already moving toward the armchair, grabbing the room service menu from the table. “I vote for both.”
She sank into the chair, tucking one leg under the other. The way the morning light hit her face made Eli pause. Just for a second.
She didn’t notice. Or if she did, she let it happen.
Eli leaned back against the headboard. “What are you in the mood for?”
Kristina scanned the menu. “Something that doesn’t come with diplomatic consequences.”
“So no minibar Toblerone and champagne?”
“That’s dessert.”
Eli grinned.
She looked up at him then, pausing. “You okay to talk about… today?”
He didn’t pretend not to understand. He nodded. “We’ll figure it out.”
There was no pressure in his voice. No expectation.
Kristina nodded once, slow. “Yeah.”
A beat of silence passed between them—still comfortable, still warm.
Then Eli added, “I really do think Lucian planned this.”
Kristina glanced at him. “You think?”
Eli made a show of looking around. “One bed. No meetings. A conveniently placed thunderstorm. Honestly, if he choreographed the weather, I’m both impressed and terrified.”
Kristina smiled faintly. “Well, whatever his plan was…”
“It worked?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t say that.”
Eli gave her a lopsided grin. “You didn’t not say it.”
Kristina laughed softly, then returned to the menu. “Pancakes or croissants?”
Eli laid back down, arm over his eyes. “Yes.”
She looked at him. “You mean both?”
“I mean yes to anything that gets you to keep smiling like that.”
Kristina didn’t answer right away.
But the smile stayed.
Early Afternoon (CET)
The room was quiet again.
Not heavy. Not tense. Just… still.
Kristina stood by the tall windows, one hand lightly resting on the sheer curtain. The view stretched far—Zurich’s rooftops dusted in sunlight, soft clouds drifting over the distant hills. People moved far below like pieces on a slow-moving board, lives unfolding at a pace she didn’t have to keep up with for once.
She just stood there, hair slightly damp, dressed now in a soft gray shirt and black leggings, the kind of outfit that wasn’t meant to impress anyone. But Eli, watching from behind, thought she’d never looked more impossible to forget.
He didn’t speak at first.
He just watched—silent, leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom with a half-buttoned shirt and no shoes.
Kristina eventually said, without turning, “It’s beautiful out.”
“I forgot cities could be this quiet,” she added.
Eli stepped forward slowly. “They usually aren’t.”
Kristina glanced back at him. “You saying it’s a setup again?”
“I’m saying we don’t get mornings like this. Not often.”
She turned back toward the window. “Maybe we should.”
Eli came to stand beside her, not quite touching. Just close enough for her to feel him there.
“You slept okay?” he asked.
Kristina nodded. “I think so. I didn’t… dream.”
“Me neither.”
For a while, they just stood there. Neither pushing the moment forward. Neither walking away from it.
Then Kristina said quietly, “Last night wasn’t just about the storm.”
Eli didn’t move. “I know.”
She looked at him now—really looked. “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
“I know that too.”
Kristina’s fingers curled loosely against her side. “But I’m glad you did.”
Eli turned toward her fully, his voice low. “Me too.”
They held each other’s gaze a long moment—until Kristina looked down, almost smiling. “God. This is weird.”
“Yeah,” Eli agreed. “But weird is kind of our thing.”
A small laugh slipped out of her.
Then she looked back at the view. “I don’t know what happens next.”
Eli followed her gaze. “We eat pancakes. You brief the Kesslers. I pretend to like their coffee. We fly home.”
“And after that?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then: “Whatever happens… I’m not going anywhere.”
Kristina looked at him again—eyes soft, guarded but not shut.
Eli’s voice was quieter now. “You don’t have to figure it all out today.”
“I know.” Her breath was steady. “But I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”
Eli nodded once.
Then, gently, he held out his hand to her.
Not to pull her close.
Not to make a promise.
Just to let her choose.
Kristina looked at it.
And then she took it.
Eli watched her for a moment—the way she stayed so close, so unguarded. Her hand still rested over his heart—not possessive, just… there.
And in that stillness, something began to settle in him.
She hadn’t chosen. Maybe she couldn’t.
But she hadn’t run either.
She had come to him in the storm. Stayed in his arms. Let herself be seen, and held, and comforted.
And maybe—just maybe—loving her didn’t mean needing all of her. Maybe it just meant being the one who stayed when she needed someone most.
Eli exhaled slowly, his hand moving once through her hair.
He could live with this.
He already was.
Some mornings don’t bring answers—just a little more clarity.
—To be continued.
