Find me in your labyrinth (Stella and Jonathan) novel Chapter 2642

She closed the window, drew the curtains, and found the earplugs, fitting them snugly in her ears before lying back down. The storm was now a muffled, distant rumble, no longer a disturbance. In fact, the faint, deep sound of the wind and rain outside was strangely comforting.

She fell back asleep almost immediately.

The next time Sylvia woke, it was eight in the morning. She got up and pulled back the curtains to see it was still raining, with no sign of letting up. The balcony below was empty. She wondered if he was still sleeping or if he’d already gone down for breakfast.

The mountain air was even fresher in the rain, filled with the rich scent of damp earth and grass. The distant peaks were shrouded in a thick mist, their outlines barely visible. She leaned against the railing, watching the rain for a few moments, when a figure appeared below.

"Come down for breakfast," Gabriel called up to her.

"Okay," Sylvia replied. "I just need to get ready."

She turned and went back inside. As she passed her packed suitcase standing by the wardrobe, she paused. With a downpour like this, there was no way she was leaving today.

After washing up and changing, she went downstairs to find Gabriel waiting for her in the dining room, just like always.

"Good morning, Mr. Carnes," she said with a cheerful smile.

He glanced up from his phone, then set it aside and began to eat without a word of reply.

Fine, if he didn't want to talk, she wouldn't either. She sat down and ate her breakfast in silence.

Despite all his years as a mercenary, Gabriel never wolfed down his food. The refined manners he was raised with were too deeply ingrained to ever be erased.

When the housekeeper came in with a tureen of soup, she paused for a second, struck by the image of the two of them at the table. Sylvia was wearing a French-style, long-sleeved dress, her thick, wavy hair tumbling over her shoulders. Even while eating, she sat with a perfectly straight back, her posture impeccable. With her head slightly bowed, the elegant curve of her neck and her stunning profile made her look like a woman who had stepped out of an oil painting.

Across from her, the man wore a dark shirt, his handsome features sharp and his presence commanding. One arm, with the sleeve rolled up to the elbow, rested on the table. He ate with the same effortless, aristocratic grace.

Sylvia looked down, her lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, she looked up and smiled. "Well, thank you for the offer. I'll go say my goodbyes to Grace after breakfast."

"Don't thank me," he said, his voice low and smooth. "When have I ever denied you anything you've wanted?"

Clatter.

Sylvia’s spoon dropped from her hand into the soup bowl. Her head snapped up.

But he had already tossed his napkin on the table and was walking away.

Sylvia turned to look at the rain streaking down the windowpanes. Anything I've wanted?

What about love?