My Boss's Hidden Heir (Elara and Marcus) novel Chapter 206

The Hampton’s Weekend

The Hampton’s Weekend

Elara’s POV

Marcus wouldn’t tell her where they were going.

He just told her to pack light for two nights, something warm for the beach, and to leave her work and boutique phone at home. When Elara opened her mouth to ask about the twins, Maria appeared in the doorway holding Alexander on her hip with Catherine balanced on her other side, both babies perfectly

content.

“Go,” Maria said simply.

So Elara went.

The drive out of the city took two hours, the Manhattan skyline shrinking in the side mirror until it disappeared entirely behind flat stretches of Long Island highway. Marcus drove with one hand on the wheel and the other holding Elara’s, his thumb drawing slow circles on her knuckles the way he always did when he was relaxed. She hadn’t seen him this relaxed in weeks. Months maybe. The tension that had lived in his jaw and shoulders since the kidnapping was finally, slowly, releasing with every mile they put between themselves and the city.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“No, I won’t.”

“What if I guess?”

“You won’t guess.”

“Hamptons,” Elara said immediately.

Marcus glanced sideways at her. “How did you….”

“You’re driving east on Sunrise Highway and you packed that grey sweater you only wear when you’re near water.” Elara smiled. “Which house?”

“The Bridgehampton one. Dad bought it in the nineties and never uses it. I called ahead to have it stocked and cleaned.” He squeezed her hand. “Three days, no work, no crisis, no anything except us.”

Elara leaned her head back against the seat and looked at the late afternoon sky stretching wide and blue above the highway. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been somewhere without a to–do list pressing against the back of her mind.

The house was everything she’d hoped it would be. A cedar–shingled beach house set back from the dunes, weathered and warm–looking, with a wraparound porch facing the Atlantic. Marcus carried their bags inside while Elara stood on the porch and just listened to the ocean.

She’d forgotten how much she loved this sound. The constant rhythm of it, the way it made everything else feel smaller and less urgent.

They ate dinner on the porch that first evening, the food Maria’s contact had stocked in the fridge. Marcus grilled salmon badly and Elara laughed until she cried watching him argue with the gas grill like it had personally offended him.

“I’m a billionaire,” he said, jabbing at the flame with the spatula. “I can buy any restaurant in Manhattan. Why am I fighting a grill.”

“Because you insisted on cooking when I offered to do it.”

“I wanted to do something romantic.”

“The burning smell is very romantic….Hmmm, yummy.”

They ate anyway, sitting close together in the cooling evening air, a bottle of white wine between them. The conversation moved easily from silly things to serious things to silly again, the way it did when there was no deadline pressing down on them.

1/3

The Hampton’s Weekend

Elara told him about her boutique ideas, the designs she’d been sketching at 2 AM when the twins wouldn’t

settle. Marcus talked about the company, not the crisis parts but the parts he actually loved, the building of things and the strategy of it.

“You light up when you talk about it,” Elara said.

“About what?”

“Business. When you strip away all the drama and you’re just talking about building something. You get this look.”

“What look?”

“The same one Alexander gets when he figures out how to stack his blocks.” She smiled. “Pure satisfaction.” Marcus laughed, genuinely surprised by the comparison. “I’m nothing like Alexander.”

“You’re exactly like Alexander. He’s stubborn and competitive and absolutely delighted by his own cleverness. Where do you think he gets it?”

“He gets it from you. You’re the clever one.”

They stayed on the porch long after dinner, talking and not talking with equal comfort, until the wine was finished and the stars were out in full and the cold finally drove them inside.

The bedroom faced the ocean. Elara could hear the waves through the slightly open window, the sound filling the dark room with something that felt like peace.

Marcus pulled her close and she rested her head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and familiar under her cheek.

“I missed this,” Elara said quietly.

“We haven’t been away together in months.”

“I don’t mean the house. I mean this. Just being near you without something being wrong.” She pressed her palm flat against his chest. “There’s always something wrong lately.”

“Well, not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” she agreed.

The next morning was a breath of fresh air, she woke to sunshine cutting through the curtains and the smell of coffee. Marcus had already been to the local bakery, coming back with croissants and fruit and coffee in cups that were still warm.

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