Back in the luxurious cabin of their cruise, Neva peels off her peach-colored knitted shawl and drapes it over the single sofa.
"Why were you there?" Rhett asks, his voice firm.
Neva lifts her head, catching the hardness in his features. "Told you—I needed some fresh air," she says whimsically, climbing onto the bed.
"You could've frozen to death for the sake of your so–called fresh air," Rhett snaps.
Neva calmly seats herself, gazing up at him as she presses her lips together.
"Do you realize how dangerous it was? You—out there alone in that cold?" His jaw clenches with anger, his stern gaze intimidating. He stands with arms folded, locking her nervous eyes in place.
She says nothing—just lowers her gaze, wraps her arms around her legs, knees folded close to her chest.
"And who the hell was that man?" he exhales sharply, sinking into one of the two single sofas.
"I don't know. I just met him," Neva mutters, voice barely audible.
"Really?" Rhett arches a brow. "Sure didn't seem like you were just getting acquainted," he adds bitterly.
Neva frowns. "What do you mean, Rhett?"
He sighs, closing his eyes. His fingers rub the space between his brows. After a beat, his gaze softens. "Nothing."
He rises, walks over to her. "I was just… worried. You could've woken me up." His voice turns gentle as he reaches to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
The sweetness of the gesture catches her off guard. Her eyes melt into his.
Something tugs in his chest, violent and warm. He can't take it—so he leans in, lips capturing hers.
Rhett kisses her slowly, deeply. She kisses back, the heat of their lips and tongues swimming in quiet hunger.
After a breathless while, Neva breaks away, pushing him lightly by the chest.
"We need to sleep," she murmurs, avoiding his gaze.
Rhett hums, offers a faint smile, and presses a kiss to her cheek.
She lies down on her side and pulls the quilt over her. He climbs in beside her, slipping under the covers, his arms wrapping around her waist, spooning her.
Fingers combing through her hair, he buries his face in the nape of her neck, breathing her in. Her scent warm and floral—calming him, loosening something tight within him.
"Don't do that again," he murmurs into her skin.
Neva stays quiet.
"What were you talking about with that man?" he asks again, quietly but persistently.
"We're strangers. What could we possibly talk about?" Neva answers coolly, her eyes closing in an attempt to sleep.
"You seemed… comfortable. Like you were savoring the conversation." His voice is lower now, but still probing. He pulls her a little closer.
"Do you think I was cheating or something?" Neva asks flatly.
"No," Rhett says, then pauses. "You're not capable of that."
He shuts his eyes. The truth of it brings peace to his chest—lulling him to sleep.
Neva's eyes flicker open at that. Her brows draw together. "What if I am?" she teases, dragging the tension back with mischief.
"You're not," he says sharply.
"What if I could be?" she goads, sensing him sulk and frown.
In a flash, Rhett hovers over her. Her heart skips, eyes wide at his sudden move.
"I'll kill that man.
Take you away—far away. Lock the two of us up on a lone, secure island," he rasps, his voice low, dark, burning.
The fire in his eyes floods her with butterflies.
Neva frowns... hoping this is'nt a warning sign. On any other day, she might've laughed it off—but after what they've been through, after the storm they're still in, his words carry a weight that unsettles her. And all she can hear is the echo of yesterday's gunfire. The crash. The chase.
She swallows, a knot tightening in her chest.
He kisses her again—rough, deep, his hunger devouring her soul.
"I can't and won't ever let you go," he breathes, foreheads pressed, his chest heaving.
"You're mine. Always were. Forever only mine."
Her eyes flutter shut at his words. Then she chuckles lightly.
Rhett pulls back slightly, blinking. "What?"
She loops her arms around his neck, meeting his eyes. "Nothing. Get off me. I'm still angry and upset at you." She pushes him away, sliding him to his side.
"Why?" he asks, spooning her once more.
"You were rude to me. Take your hands off..." she starts to squirm, trying to escape his grip.
"Don't," he says—voice deep, firm. His arms tighten around her.
She stiffens. He's way too rude to be cuddling her tonight.
But stubborn Neva makes it her mission to free herself, she wrestles against his veined arms, breath catching, tears pricking her lashes.
"Please, Angel. Don't," he murmurs gently. "I need to hold you close to sleep."
And somehow, those magical words disarm her stubborn heart.
She sighs and lets go, folding her hands back to herself. Quiet now. But still aching.
He smiles against her neck, easing his grip just enough to let her breathe.
Neva exhales sharply, drained and needing rest.
This time, she closes her eyes—and slowly slips into slumber.