Page 113 of Taken Away

A knot tightened in Luke’s stomach.

Maybe Red Stephens was exactly what he appeared to be.

Or maybe Luke had just spent twenty minutes talking to a man who'd spent thirty years learning exactly what not to say.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Bennett’s House

Aubrey

The drive back up the ridge road was dead silent.

By the time Aubrey let herself into the house, the sun had already dropped behind the sharp peaks of the Blue Ridge, leaving the massive, sprawling living room swallowed in shadows. Bennett’s house was a modern California-style build—clean lines, soaring timber, and vast walls of glass looking out over the Blackwood vineyards and the dark valleys of Sylva. Right now, those windows only reflected the heavy dark of the interior.

She stripped off her flats by the door, her bare feet instantly registering the smooth surface of the polished concrete. Her shoulders ached. The house was quiet, but she could smell him immediately—clean soap and a warm spicy cologne.

Bennett was standing by the kitchen island, a glass of bourbon in his hand. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower. His dark hair was still wet, clumping at the nape of his neck, and he’d changed into a plain white T-shirt and low-slung gray sweatpants. Without his heavy work boots and denim, he looked massive in a completely different way—all hard muscle and raw masculinity.

He didn’t say a word as she walked in. He watched her with those gold-flecked eyes. The fury from the morning hadn’t dissipated; it had cooked down into something darker.

Aubrey didn’t look away. She set her bag on the counter, the contract paperwork slumping out of the folder.

“You’re still looking at it,” he said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet kitchen.

“Because it doesn’t lie, Bennett,” Aubrey said, her voice tight, the exhaustion making her reckless. “I spent the last four hours re-running Mercer’s numbers. The margins are predatory. If we miss our casing volume, they take everything. It is a textbook hostile chokehold, and Mabel was about to blow it up.”

Bennett took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving her face. “I told you this morning. Vanessa didn’t do this.”

“You keep saying her name like that shields her from the math,” Aubrey snapped, taking a step closer, her feet flat on the concrete. “She had the keys, Bennett. She had the access. She knew the estate timeline because she knows you. Why are you protecting her?”

“I’m not protecting her, Aubrey. I’m stopping you from turning a business contract into a witch hunt.”

“I know exactly how things work when a man refuses to see the obvious,” she hurled back, the frustration boiling over, shredding her usual restraint. “You don’t see it because you’re sleeping with her!”

The words were out before she could stop them—hot, reckless, and explosive in the room.

Bennett didn’t flinch, but the air in the kitchen instantly turned lethal. He set his glass down on the marble with a heavy, dangerous clink. He took one slow, deliberate step toward her, crowding her space until she had to tilt her chin up to keep his eyes.

A dark, arrogant tilt touched the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were entirely black.

“Princess,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous, ragged register that vibrated right through her chest. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous. I’d think you were desperate to turn Vanessa into a killer so you don’t have to face what’s happening in this room.”

The worst part was, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Bennett stood entirely too close, crowding out the open space of the room. Heat radiated from him, shrinking the distance between them until it felt impossible to think.

“You drive me crazy,” he said quietly.

A laugh escaped her. Unsteady. Breathless. Furious. “Likewise.”

His hand lifted, his rough, calloused fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The texture of his skin against her cheek sent a sharp, violent jolt straight down her spine. Aubrey’s breath caught, her green eyes locking onto his.

Since the night they met, they'd hidden behind contracts, grief, and arguments.

There was nowhere left to hide.

But looking at the fierce, possessive line of his face in the dim kitchen light, Aubrey knew the talking was done.