Chapter 200 200

Chapter 200 200
DELILAH POV

Yeah, my dad’s a piece of shit.

But one thing about Alexander Harrington, the man never lets his only daughter fly commercial.

Luxury has always been my normal. I don’t even know what poverty feels like. So it’s no surprise when I hear the roar of one of his private jets waiting just for me, ready to whisk me off to Montana. My ticket out of D.C., away from bullets, politics, and my own messed-up life.

And before anyone starts worrying about my education, relax. I already got my degree last year.

I sink into the plush leather seat, letting the hum of the engines vibrate through me. My phone keeps buzzing nonstop. Thousands of messages from people who never cared before suddenly acting concerned about my life.

Fake university friends sending heart emojis and “omg babe r u okay???”

Guys I rejected months ago suddenly pretending they give a damn.

I scroll through them, roll my eyes, then switch my phone off completely. Let them choke on their fake concern.

A flight attendant quietly approaches with a tray of fruit and water. I smile politely.

“Thank you.”

She nods and walks away.

I pull out my diary instead, flipping through pages full of thoughts I’d die before letting anyone read. Page 146 is already half-filled with Nico Cephas’ name.

Pathetic? Absolutely.

Do I care?

Not even a little.

The flight attendant returns a while later with warm cookies. I thank her again, and she leaves me alone. Good.

Two hours later, we start dropping through the clouds, and the pilot’s voice crackles through the cabin.

“Landing in Kalispell in five minutes.”

My stomach flips instantly.

Not because of the turbulence.

Because of him.

The plane finally stops. The cabin door opens, and cold air rushes inside, carrying the sharp scent of pine and snow.

I grab my coat and step outside.

And there he is.

Nico.

Leaning against a beat-up black Jeep like he owns the entire damn airport. Arms crossed over his chest, beanie pulled low, beard thick, gray eyes locked on me the second I appear.

He doesn’t wave.

Doesn’t smile.

Just watches.

And God, he looks even better than I remember.

Broader shoulders. Thicker arms. More gray threaded through his beard in the hottest way possible. Time somehow made him rougher, harder, sexier.

My pulse stumbles.

I heard the rumors years ago. His wife cheated. He divorced her and disappeared out here without looking back. No ring. No woman. No drama. Just him, the mountains, and whatever demons he buried in the snow.

Being alone clearly worked out very well for him.

Too bad I’m about to ruin his peace.

I walk down the steps carefully, trying not to trip in these stupid heels while my heart races like crazy.

He still doesn’t move.

His eyes drag slowly down my body, hot enough to make my skin burn.

“Get in the truck, Delilah.”

God, that voice.

Low. Rough. Familiar.

My whole body reacts instantly.

I smirk. “Nice to see you too, old man.”

He opens the passenger door without replying. Doesn’t help me inside either. He just stands there while I climb in, my coat sliding up my thighs on purpose.

I know he notices.

I hope he notices.

He tosses my suitcase into the back like it weighs nothing, climbs behind the wheel, and starts driving.

No hello.

No small talk.

Just the low rumble of the engine and snow falling harder outside.

I last maybe ten minutes before I crack.

“Four years gone and that’s all I get? Not even a ‘good to see you’?”

His eyes stay fixed on the road.

“You’re breathing. Be grateful.”

I laugh softly under my breath. “Still allergic to feelings, I see.”

He says nothing after that.

The road gets rougher as we climb higher into the mountains. Gravel crunches beneath the tires while thick trees swallow the headlights whole. No houses. No people. Nothing.

This place is basically a fortress.

Perfect.

I shift in my seat and glance at him again, staring at the scar slicing through his eyebrow. I used to study that scar when I was younger.

Now I can’t stop imagining kissing it.

Good thing I’m grown now.

And out here?

Nobody’s around to hear me scream his name.

This is going to be a long, dirty winter.

And honestly?

I can’t fucking wait.

We keep climbing until the road barely looks drivable anymore. The Jeep growls over ice and loose rocks before a large cabin finally appears through the falling snow.

Nico kills the engine and gets out first. He grabs my suitcase while I follow behind him toward the house.

The second we step inside, the smell of woodsmoke and pine wraps around me. The cabin is dark, quiet, barely decorated.

He drops my bag beside the stairs.

“Guest room’s upstairs. Second door on the left. Study across the hall. Kitchen’s downstairs.” His eyes meet mine briefly. “And don’t touch my shit.”

That’s it.

That’s my warm Montana welcome.

I lean against the doorway and smile slowly.

“Alright, old man.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then what should I call you?” I tilt my head innocently. “Nico? Sir?”

I lower my voice deliberately.

“Daddy?”

His expression darkens instantly.

“Careful, little girl,” he says quietly. “I only warn once.”

Then he turns and disappears upstairs.

A second later, his rough voice drifts down from the darkness above me.

“Get some rest, Delilah.”