The sll of coffee reached Ella before she even stepped into the kitchen.
Sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks across the floor. She followed the sound of light movent and the occasional clink of cutlery, rubbing her arms and still adjusting to how strange—but peaceful—it all felt.
Nicholas stood by the stove in a plain white T-shirt and sweatpants, barefoot, a mug already in his hand as he flipped sothing in a pan.
"Good morning again, wife," he said without turning around, clearly hearing her footsteps. "Sleep okay once I stopped being your human pillow?"
"You didn’t complain at the ti," she said, stepping closer.
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. "That’s because I liked it."
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile pulling at her lips. "So, what are you burning?"
"Excuse ," he said with mock indignation. "I am making pancakes. From scratch."
Ella peered into the pan. "Huh. You can cook."
"Why does everyone sound so shocked when I say that?" he muttered, flipping the pancake with unnecessary flair. "I am perfectly dostic."
"Because you scream rich and spoiled," she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.
He turned toward her, pancake still sizzling behind him. "I scream classy and refined."
"You scread ’kidnapper’ last night."
He winced dramatically. "Still holding that over , huh?"
"I think I’m allowed," she said sweetly.
He turned back to the stove, but she caught the slight grin tugging at his mouth.
The kitchen was warm and open, with wooden beams overhead and soft, worn-in furniture she hadn’t noticed last night. Now that she looked around properly, sothing didn’t add up.
"This place..." she said slowly, walking to the window. "This isn’t the house you brought to before."
"Nope."
"It’s not in the city either."
"Nope again."
She turned, raising a brow. "You kidnapped again?"
Nicholas chuckled. "Technically, you were unconscious. So this ti, it was a dical ergency. Still legal."
"You are disturbingly good at justifying cris."
"Years of practice," he said lightly, plating the pancakes. "Besides, you needed quiet. Sowhere far from people who didn’t care if you lived or died."
She didn’t argue with that.
Stepping away from the window, she crossed the kitchen and slid onto one of the stools at the counter. "So, where are we?"
"My getaway house," he said, setting a plate in front of her. "Very secret. Very off-the-grid. I usually co here when I want to disappear for a while."
Ella blinked. "So you brought to your secret hideout?"
He poured her a cup of coffee, then t her gaze. "I trust you."
Her heart gave an uncomfortable jolt in her chest.
She looked away, focusing instead on her plate. The pancakes were fluffy, golden brown, and—surprisingly—slled amazing.
"You’re serious about this trust thing?" she asked, pouring a bit of syrup.
He leaned on the counter across from her, sipping his coffee. "I don’t trust easily. But with you..." He hesitated. "I just do."
She took a bite to avoid responding imdiately. The pancake lted in her mouth. "Okay, these are annoyingly good."
"Told you," he said smugly.
"I’m still watching for hidden delivery bags."
They ate in companionable silence for a few monts, the easy rhythm between them settling like second nature.
Eventually, Ella glanced around again. "There’s really no one else nearby?"
"Not for a few miles," he confird. "Closest neighbor is an old couple with too many goats. They mind their business."
She raised a brow. "How do you even find places like this?"
"I’m rich, rember?" he said. "We just stumble on secluded luxury cabins in the woods and say, ’Yes, I’ll take it.’"
She laughed softly.
Nicholas tilted his head. "You seem calr today."
"I feel... strange," she admitted. "Like my brain still thinks I’m in danger, but my body knows I’m not. It’s trying to catch up."
"That’s normal," he said gently. "You’ve been in survival mode for too long."
She didn’t respond, just sipped her coffee and let herself enjoy the warmth.
After a while, she asked, "What’s the plan? I an... I can’t stay here forever, right?"
"You can stay as long as you want," he said without hesitation. "But I’ve already asked soone to find Ryan."
She stiffened slightly, but he reached across the counter and took her hand.
"Not for revenge," he added. "Not yet. I just want to make sure he doesn’t show up anywhere near you again."
Ella stared at their intertwined hands. Her fingers looked small in his. She didn’t pull away.
"You didn’t have to do all this."
Nicholas leaned forward, eyes serious. "I did. You may not believe it yet, but you matter, Ella. And I’m not going to stop reminding you."
She looked down, trying to hide the tears threatening to rise.
"Also," he added, voice turning light again, "as your annoying but devastatingly handso husband, it is technically my job to care for you."
She looked up at him, startled, then laughed despite herself. "You’re impossible."
"But charming," he said.
She gave him a look. "Debatable."
Nicholas smiled.
"Co on," he said, pushing his empty plate aside. "Let’s take a walk after breakfast. You haven’t seen the lake yet."
"There’s a lake?" she asked, surprised.
"This place has everything," he said. "Privacy, peace, and pancakes."
"You forgot the goats."
"I’m blocking them out."
Ella smiled
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