When Cynthia Brown, a struggling artist, finds herself stranded in a small coastal town after a car breakdown, the last thing she expects is to cross paths with the town's most elusive resident- Arnaut Peterson, a reclusive billionaire with a past he refuses to face. Arnaut, once a celebrated architect, has buried himself in solitude after a devastating betrayal. But Cynthia's fiery spirit and stubborn optimism chip away at the walls he's built around his heart. As she paints murals on the town's forgotten buildings, she unknowingly brings color back into Arnaut's world. With each passing day, their connection deepens, but ghosts of their pasts threaten to pull them apart. Cynthia is running from a love that nearly destroyed her, and Arnaut fears letting someone in again. When the past finally catches up, they must decide- are they willing to risk everything for a love they never saw coming?
Cynthia's POV
Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the already darkened road. The fuel gauge blinked dangerously close to empty, but that wasn't even the worst of my problems. The check engine light had been taunting me for the past twenty miles, and now, with an ominous sputter, my car gave its final, wheezing breath before rolling to a stop.
"Seriously?" I groaned, gripping the steering wheel as if my frustration alone could bring the engine back to life. Turning the key did nothing. Not even a flicker of false hope.
Leaning back, I exhaled sharply and reached for my phone. No signal. Of course. Because life wasn't difficult enough already.
The storm intensified, fat droplets of rain hammering against the roof, turning the quiet highway into an endless stretch of isolation. My fingers tightened around my useless phone. Maybe if I waited a little, another car would pass by, but given how deserted this road had been for the last half hour, I wasn't holding my breath.
A set of headlights pierced through the rain in the distance. Relief surged through me as the dark SUV slowed, pulling up beside my stranded car. The window rolled down, revealing a man with sharp blue eyes and a gaze that immediately unsettled me.
"You need a ride?" His voice was deep, laced with something unreadable.
I hesitated. Taking rides from strangers wasn't exactly at the top of my "good life choices" list. But standing out in the middle of nowhere with a dead car wasn't any safer.
"I-yeah. My car just died, and I have no signal," I admitted, wiping my damp palms against my jeans.
He studied me for a moment, then jerked his chin toward the passenger seat. "Get in."
The hesitation lingered, but the rain was relentless, soaking through my already damp hoodie. With a deep breath, I grabbed my bag and slid into his SUV, the blast of warm air instantly wrapping around me.
The man didn't say much as he pulled back onto the road, his hands steady on the wheel.
"Thanks for this," I offered after a moment, glancing at him.
A slow nod. No words.
Not a talker, then.
"I'm Cynthia," I tried again, hoping to chip away at the awkwardness.
Another small pause before he finally spoke. "Arnaut."
The name was unexpected. Strong. Fitting for someone with a presence as intense as his.
"Well, Arnaut, you might've just saved me from becoming a ghost story," I joked lightly, attempting to ease the tension.
His lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but had forgotten how. "This road isn't haunted. Yet."
A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold traveled down my spine. There was something about him-something restrained, as if he was holding back the weight of an entire past he refused to share.
Silence stretched between us, filled only by the hum of the engine and the rhythmic thud of the windshield wipers. The town's lights finally appeared in the distance, offering a glimmer of relief.
He pulled up in front of a small inn, its warm lights spilling onto the wet pavement. "Lily's Place," he said. "She'll have a room for you."
I turned to thank him, but before I could say anything, he was already looking straight ahead, fingers flexing slightly against the steering wheel.
"Thank you, Arnaut," I said softly.
Another nod. No lingering goodbyes.
The moment I stepped out, he drove away, leaving me standing in the rain with more questions than answers.
Arnaut's POV
Cynthia Brown.
The name echoed in my mind long after I pulled away from the inn.
She was trouble. Not in the reckless, dangerous sense, but in the way that unsettled the quiet life I had built.
Her eyes held too many secrets. Her smile, though forced, carried an edge of something fractured. I knew the look well. I saw it every time I glanced in the mirror.
The rain softened as I reached the long gravel driveway leading to my home-a sleek, modern house that stood in stark contrast to the small-town charm surrounding it. I had designed it myself, back when I still allowed myself to create things beyond the walls I hid behind.
Stepping inside, I shrugged off my jacket, the scent of rain clinging to me. The silence was immediate, the kind that usually brought comfort. Tonight, it felt different.
Pouring myself a glass of whiskey, I stared out at the darkened horizon. Cynthia was nothing more than a stranded traveler, a fleeting presence in a town she didn't belong to. She would leave soon, and life would return to normal. At least, that's what I told myself. But deep down, I knew better.
Chapter 1 1
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Chapter 2 2
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Chapter 3 3
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Chapter 4 4
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Chapter 5 5
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Chapter 6 6
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Chapter 7 7
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Chapter 8 8
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Chapter 9 9
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Chapter 10 10
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Chapter 11 11
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Chapter 12 12
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Chapter 13 13
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Chapter 14 14
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Chapter 15 15
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Chapter 16 16
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Chapter 17 17
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