Chapter 36: Lines in the Sand

Next Morning — Their Suite

Soft sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling curtains, casting golden streaks across the plush king-sized bed. The air in the suite was still, quiet—except for the lazy rustle of sheets.

William stirred first, groaning as he turned over. His arm flopped across Skylar’s waist and he blinked, realizing she was nestled close, one hand tucked under her cheek, hair cascading like ink over the pillows.

He smiled.

"Still sleeping like a princess after stealing all the covers," he muttered.

Skylar’s eyes fluttered open, slow and annoyed. “And you’re still talking like an old man before coffee.”

He chuckled. “Good morning to you too, Mrs. Scott.”

“Technically, contractually,” she murmured, stretching like a cat before pulling the sheet higher. “And don’t say that title like it’s a victory.”

William leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It feels like one. Waking up next to you... definitely feels like winning something.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re dangerously close to sounding charming. Should I be worried?”

“Very,” he whispered, inching closer. “I might just kiss you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, trying not to smile.

“Oh, I would.” His nose touched hers. “Unless you want to call security.”

“Tempting.” Her voice was breathy. “But I’m too lazy to move.”

“Good. Then suffer the consequences.”

Before she could retort, he kissed her—soft and slow, the kind of kiss that tasted like lazy mornings and long-forgotten warmth. She didn’t pull back.

When he finally moved away, she blinked. “Ugh. Now I’m wide awake and emotionally confused. Thanks.”

He grinned. “That’s my specialty.”

Skylar grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it.

“Hey!” William protested, laughing.

“You deserved that,” she said, sitting up and yawning. “For being cute and smug and annoyingly nice today.”

He looked at her, messy hair and bare shoulders wrapped in sheets. “You’re beautiful when you’re grumpy.”

“You’re unbearable when you flirt.”

“But you’re smiling,” he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up and make me coffee.”

“As you command, queen of sass.”

He swung off the bed dramatically, still in his pajamas, and padded toward the kitchenette.

She leaned back on the pillows, watching him.

An hour later William got ready in business attire again.

"We’re already running late. Asher’s probably pacing by now.”

William adjusted his cufflinks, glancing at his watch as he grabbed his blazer from the chair.

Skylar emerged from the dressing room in a sleek ivory co-ord set, her hair flowing in soft waves, eyes sharp and unreadable.

“I’m not going,” she said lightly, picking up her clutch without looking at him.

William paused mid-motion. “What do you mean you’re not going? The final paperwork with La Futura is today.”

“Exactly,” she said, adjusting her watch. “It’s just paperwork. You can handle it without me.”

William frowned, stepping closer. “Skylar, we’re closing a multi-million euro deal. Asher’s waiting—and so are the directors.”

She met his eyes, unflinching. “You’ve handled bigger rooms without me, William. Today... isn’t about business. I have other plans.”

He searched her face, trying to read between the lines. “So I don’t even get to know where you’re going?”

Her gaze hardened slightly, not with anger, but with quiet resolve. “We might be partners in a mission, but I still have a right to privacy, William.”

She turned and walked out, her perfume lingering like a question in the air.

William stood frozen, staring at the door she’d just closed. For a moment, silence stretched, thick with questions he couldn’t ask.

With a sigh, he grabbed his mobile and headed out. Whatever she was hiding, he’d have to wait—business didn’t wait for broken hearts.

Skylar's cab stopped in front of Hotel Trastevere. She stepped into the quiet private cabin of the rustic Italian restaurant. The aroma of basil and freshly baked bread filled the air. A familiar figure rose from a velvet seat.

“Arnold!” she gasped.

Her little brother stood from the velvet seat with a wide grin, arms open. She rushed into him, wrapping him in a fierce, tearful hug. He hugged her back just as tightly, pressing his face into her shoulder like the little boy she used to protect.

“God, you’ve changed,” he murmured into her hair. “But you’re still my Sky.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing away a tear. “You’ve grown up too. I almost didn’t recognize you—you look like dad did at your age.”

He grinned. “That’s what everyone says now. Guess someone had to grow up when you decided to disappear.”

Skylar gave him a gentle nudge on the arm as they sat down. “I didn’t disappear. I was fighting… in my own way.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I just missed you. Home felt emptier without your drama.”

She chuckled. “You mean without me stealing your headphones and blaming you for the broken vases?”

“Exactly.” He rolled his eyes. “I suffered.”

They both laughed for a moment, a rare softness filling the air.

Her smile faded slightly. “Tell me about Mom. How is she?”

Arnold leaned back in his seat, the mirth giving way to concern. “She’s doing better. There are small improvements. Doctors say her chances are stronger now. But she still asks about you. She keeps a shawl of yours on her bed.”

Skylar’s lips quivered, and she looked away. “I can’t see her like that… not now. But soon. I promise, Arnold. I will come.”

He nodded, not pushing it, though the sadness in his eyes lingered.

After a pause, Arnold asked, "How's the mission going?"

“We’re close to hitting 100 million… we’re this close to taking down the Nelsons. We’ve earned more than just rules and resentment,” Skylar said.

"Sis, it's something important.", he leaned forward, voice lower, more serious. “I didn’t just come here for this reunion.”

She straightened. “What is it?”

“I got news—from a confirmed source…”

"What's that?" Skylar leaned forward.

“Anderson hid evidence of Nelson Group’s fraud under the Gracia building. It’s in the CEO’s office—behind the bookshelf. There’s a hidden safe. And the code is scribbled somewhere in there too.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Dead sure,” Arnold said. “But how are you planning to access that? Anderson won’t just let you stroll in.”

She looked at him for a beat, hesitating. Then softly, “Anderson isn’t in charge anymore.”

Arnold’s brow furrowed. “Then who is?”

She dropped her gaze. Her voice came like a whisper.

“William Scott.”

Silence.

Arnold’s expression darkened instantly. His jaw clenched, and his fists tightened on the table.

“You’re still letting him near you?” he spat. “After what he did?”

His voice dripped with fury. “He paraded you in front of the world, only to crush you. You think I forgot how Mom collapsed that night? How you shut down like a ghost?”

His eyes burned. “That damn William Scott doesn’t deserve your presence—he doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

Before she could defend herself, the cabin door burst open.

William stepped in, flanked by Asher. His eyes instantly found Skylar—and then flicked to the man sitting across from her.

He stopped in his tracks.

Skylar froze mid-turn, visibly shocked to see him there. Her clutch nearly slipped from her fingers.

Arnold stood up so abruptly his chair scraped the floor. His face hardened with fury.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, eyes narrowing into slits.

William took a step forward, ignoring the heat in Arnold’s stare. His voice was quieter now, more pointed.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Skylar?” His eyes searched hers. “You were meeting your brother—I would’ve come with you.”.

Arnold’s gaze burned with anger. “And why would she need to tell you anything? Who do you think you are, following her around?”

Before the atmosphere could boil further, Skylar stepped in between. “William is my boss. We’re on a business trip. Asher is our collaborator. That’s it.”

Asher, already sensing the tension, moved quickly. “Hey, Arnold, right? I’m Asher Mathews. We were neighbours once—used to play cricket together at the Scott lawn? You had that crazy fast spin?”

Arnold blinked, the tension momentarily breaking. “Wait... Asher? The one who used to bring mango popsicles to every match?”

Asher grinned. “Guilty.”

As the two caught up, William took Skylar’s arm and pulled her to the side.

William’s voice cracked, barely a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell Arnold? About us—what we really are?”

Skylar met his gaze, cold steel wrapped in tiredness. “Because there’s nothing to announce,” she said. “It’s a contract marriage, William. I’m not shouting that from rooftops. Two years, then it’s done.”

His chest tightened, the sting of her words sharper than he expected. “That’s rich, considering I’m here trying to prove I’m not just a clause in a damn contract,” he bit back.

No one asked you to,” she replied, coldly. “You chose this redemption arc. Don’t guilt-trip me for not applauding every move.”

He looked wounded. “You think this is a game to me? I was waiting for you to heal… before giving you the wedding you deserved.”

Her voice dropped, steady and unyielding. “Don’t even go there. I won’t drag my family through that circus again—the shame, the whispers, the stares. You keep my family out of your dreams.”

Silence hung thick, heavy with all the things neither dared say aloud.