Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 55 - 59

Chapter 55: Chapter 59

Avara POV

I hasten to catch up with Vance as he strides toward the parking bay that flanks the sleek, elevated restaurant, where an awning shelters a pristine lineup of luxury vehicles. The cars gleam even in the westering light, their lacquered surfaces reflecting the glow of the restaurant perched on the crest of the highland. Each vehicle is watched over by a contingent of guards, their posture alert. The air is still, a kind of silent reverence infused in the atmosphere, broken only by the faint rustle of wind whispering through the valley and the distant murmur of voices from inside the restaurant.

Vance moves with a measured grace, every step deliberate, exuding a controlled, effortless confidence that draws attention without attempting to command it. His chin is lifted just so, a subtle nod to sophistication, yet not overstated—a hint of assurance that is simply his natural state. As we reach the driver and guard of our convoy, he pauses for a fraction, affording them a polite, composed smile that dances on the edge of formal and friendly.

"Gentlemen," he acknowledges, his voice calm yet edged with purpose. The words are smooth as if poured, the tone capturing that precise balance between respect and an undeniable authority. "I need the keys to the car. I don’t care which one." The command is unadorned, delivered with an innate power that brooks no argument—a seamless blend of refinement and assertion. The men exchange a quick glance.

"It’s not really up for debate," Vance says with a patient smile, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I want the keys to the car. So I’ll have the keys to the car," he concludes with a stern pound at the cliff of his delivery that is fatal and final.

"Respectfully sir," the guard begins. "Mr Vacheron—your father informed us of no changes."

"As Mr Vacheron’s son—I’m informing you of the changes," he says with a fiercely stoic expression. "If you must now. Avara is feeling unwell. Subsequently, I received an urgent communication from the director of one of our subsidiaries, necessitating my personal attention to the matter, as would be expected by my father. So I need to leave and I would like to take Avara home. If that’s okay with you?"

The sarcastic scorn makes his gaze waver. Without looking at anyone, the guard makes a quick and harsh gesture. Compelled by the weight of his insistence, one of them hands him a key with a deferential nod. Vance snatches it with a scathing smile before he drops it. With a practiced flick, Vance opens the car door, and for a brief moment, he pauses, glancing back at me. The usual steely composure cracks open, just enough to reveal a faint, lopsided smile—a glimpse beneath the mask of unwavering control. It’s subtle, a softened expression that feels rare, like a guarded secret meant only for those who know to look closely.

I step forward, catching the eye of the guards flanking us, who stand stiff and vigilant in the cool evening air. I throw them a quick, rueful smile in acknowledgment, a silent gesture that’s very much apologetic. I mean, I don’t want to get anyone in trouble here.

The faint scent of leather and expensive cologne fills the air as I approach the gleaming black G-Wagon. Its dark-tinted windows and rugged elegance make it stand out even in this collection of pristine vehicles. With a gentle push, I slide into the passenger seat; the interior cloaking me in comfort and quiet as I close the door. Vance settles into the driver’s seat beside me, his earlier half-smile still lingering as he starts the engine. The powerful hum of the G-Wagon vibrates under us, a sound as refined and composed as he is, as we pull away from the silent, watchful stares of the guards outside.

My hand slaps over my mouth as the reality of what we’re doing finally hits.

"I can’t believe we’re doing this," I say with a disbelieving headshake. "Good thing there will be no need for a wedding because your dad is going to kill us both."

He permits an amused smile. "Relax, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him."

"Until he calls to check on his poor daughter-in-law—who’s supposedly stricken with a sudden illness," I retort, my voice laced with irony, my gaze cutting sharply toward him. "Only to find out that she never made it home," I continue, the words landing like accusations. "Despite leaving with her fiancé’s brother, who just so happens to be her ex-boyfriend."

He scoffs, eyebrows raised in defiance. "Fake," he says, enunciating the word as if to solidify its permanence. "He has no right to get angry over something that was never real to begin with."

I draw a deep breath, exhaling my frustration. "It’s not about reality," I say, feeling the weight of each word. "It’s about perception. The way people see us, the story they’ll spin in their minds. I can’t have the public judging us—judging me—again. Not when it’s all too easy to paint me as some loose-moraled woman caught between two brothers."

I glance out the window, pondering on the blur that obscures the boundaries between truth and assumption, between who I am and who they’d make me out to be. "Perception," I murmur, half to myself, "it’s a fragile thing. And I won’t let it shatter over a misunderstanding."

"That won’t happen again," he vows. "It’s a fair drive back. I’ll simply say that I stopped halfway somewhere because I didn’t want to risk driving sleep-deprived. Whatever questions he got; I’ll shut it down. So please, sit back and enjoy the road trip I would’ve taken you on our fake honeymoon."

I snort a laugh, amusement expelling all remnants of dread. "Are you telling me you had something planned?"

He nods confidently. "I always have something planned." He gazes ahead, his expression softening as if drawn into a memory, a faint, wistful smile playing on his lips. "I mean, I know you’re someone who finds beauty in the simple things," he murmurs, his voice trailing with a rare tenderness. "So, I searched for places that hold on to that quiet charm—a touch rustic, yet not rough around the edges. Somewhere steeped in nature’s calm, yet with an elegance that doesn’t feel out of place."

His gaze drifts toward the scenery surrounding us as if envisioning that perfect balance between unspoiled and refined, a place that feels like a sanctuary, alive with lush greenery yet delicately curated. "Quite like this place I’m taking you now," he adds, his voice lowering, almost reverent. His words linger in the air, casting an image of a retreat far removed from the clutter and chaos of the everyday. "It’s a space designed for moments like this, where the world narrows to just the two of us, ensconced in simplicity, yet encircled by understated luxury."

I nod blissfully. "That really sounds like.... Us."

As we drive deeper into the valley, the towering silhouettes of mountains close in, their rugged faces shadowed beneath the last fading light of the evening. The winding road twists and turns, each bend revealing glimpses of ancient, jagged peaks dusted with silver as if nature itself had painted them with a pearl of grizzled wisdom. The air feels sharper here, tinged with the crisp scent of pine and damp earth, and the world grows hushed. The only sound is the steady hum of the engine as we descend toward the cabin.

Finally, we round a final curve, and there it is—a cozy cabin nestled at the foot of the mountains, cradled by nature’s embrace. We climb out and even with the scenery draped in darkness, it’s an exquisite sight.

"Stay there!"

Vance jogs away, trotting up the steps of the front porch and fiddling with things—cords and wires; I can’t quite make out from this distance. Lastly, he flips a switch, and with a soft, electric hum, fairy lights burst to life in an instant. They twinkle like scattered stars, casting a warm, golden glow across the trellis that arches over the path leading up to the front door, creating a luminous gateway to our hidden retreat. The lights snake through the wooden beams, weaving patterns of light and shadow, and spill down in cascading strands, transforming the rustic cabin into something almost enchanted.

I let out an excited squeal before both hands cover my mouth momentarily. Beyond the glowing entrance, the cabin’s wooden walls seem to glisten under the light, revealing touches of stonework and careful craftsmanship.

I pick up the trail of the emerald to hurry towards me.

He grins at my reaction before he uncovers a hidden key to open the front door.

"Vance, this place is beautiful!"

"The beauty doesn’t end there."

He inserts the key and with a deliberate lift and shove; he pushes the door open. Stepping inside, the lavish interior unfolds, rich with natural textures and elegant furnishings—a plush sofa draped with soft throws, a grand stone fireplace waiting to be lit, and windows that frame the majestic mountains outside. The warmth of polished wood and the ambient light make the room feel inviting, a perfect fusion of wilderness and refinement. It’s a sanctuary, secluded yet brimming with quiet opulence as if designed for moments of stillness, for escape, and perhaps for something a bit more magical.

Vance peels off his suit blazer to drape it over the head of the couch. "Would you like to change into something like that?"

"Like what, a lumberjack shirt?"

Vance snorts and undoes his cufflinks before shedding his shirt. My eyes dart to the defined V-line that disappears into the waistband of his pants. My eyes fly up to the ceiling and heat stings my face when I hear him rumble a chuckle at my childish reaction.