The press conference was Isla's idea. Ryder hated every second of it.
'This is a terrible plan,' he said for the tenth time, adjusting his tie with obvious discomfort. He looked devastating in the suit Malcolm's lawyers had provided—all sharp angles and controlled danger barely contained by expensive fabric. 'We should be hiding, not parading in front of cameras.'
'We can't hide forever. The media circus isn't dying down. If anything, it's getting worse.' Isla checked her reflection, barely recognizing the composed woman staring back. 'Malcolm's death, Adrian's conspiracy, my paternity scandal—we're the biggest story in New York. The only way to control the narrative is to get ahead of it.'
'By pretending our relationship is a publicity stunt? By telling the world we're fake dating to distract from the family drama?' Ryder's jaw was tight. 'That undermines everything real between us.'
'It protects everything real between us.' She turned to face him. 'If we claim our relationship is a strategic PR move—two people helping each other through tragedy—then when we disappear afterward, no one will be surprised. They'll think it was always temporary. And we'll be free to actually live our lives without cameras following us everywhere.'
'Or they'll think I was using you for money and fame. That I manipulated a grieving heiress.' His voice was bitter. 'The headlines write themselves—Gold-Digging Bodyguard Seduces Vulnerable Client.'
'Then we make sure the narrative is different. We present as partners. Equals. Two people supporting each other through impossible circumstances.' Isla adjusted his tie, her fingers lingering on his chest. 'This is temporary. A performance to buy us freedom. Can you do that?'
'For you? I'd do anything.' But his expression remained troubled. 'Just promise me one thing—promise that when we're alone, when it's just us, there's no performance. No fake dating. Just real us.'
'Always real. I promise.' She kissed him softly. 'Now let's go lie to the world so we can tell each other the truth in peace.'
The press conference was chaos. Cameras flashed, reporters shouted questions, microphones thrust forward like weapons. Isla sat beside Ryder at the table, their hands linked for the cameras, presenting a united front.
'Miss Thornton—or should we call you Miss Reeves now?—is it true you're in a relationship with your former bodyguard?'
Isla kept her expression neutral, controlled. 'Ryder Kane and I have developed a close friendship during recent events. He's been an invaluable support system during an incredibly difficult time. Whether that friendship evolves into something more remains to be seen. Right now, we're focused on healing and moving forward.'
'So you're confirming the relationship?'
'I'm confirming we care about each other. As for labels...' She glanced at Ryder, and the look they shared was calculated, perfect for cameras. 'We're taking things one day at a time.'
'Mr. Kane, are you using Miss Thornton's wealth and status to launch a security business? Is this relationship transactional?'
Ryder's hand tightened on hers—the only sign of his controlled rage. 'Isla doesn't need protection anymore. The threats have been neutralized. I'm here because I choose to be. Because she's someone I respect and admire. Anyone suggesting otherwise doesn't know either of us.'
'But you were paid to protect her. How can we trust this isn't just an extension of that professional relationship?'
'You can't. You don't know us. You don't get to judge our relationship based on headlines and speculation.' His voice was steel wrapped in civility. 'But I'll say this once—Isla Thornton, Isla Reeves, whatever name she chooses—is the strongest, bravest, most remarkable person I've ever met. I'm honored she lets me be part of her life. Whether that satisfies your narrative or not is irrelevant to me.'
The room erupted with more questions, but Isla stood, ending the conference. 'That's all we're saying today. Thank you for your time.'
Outside, in the car, Isla finally exhaled. 'That was awful.'
'That was a performance. You were brilliant.' Ryder pulled off his tie, loosening his collar. 'But I hated every second of pretending what we have is anything less than real and permanent and—' He stopped, shaking his head.
'And what?' She turned to him.
'And everything.' His hand found her face. 'I love you. Not for cameras. Not for strategy. Just because I do. Because I can't imagine my life without you in it. And telling the world our relationship might be temporary felt like lying about the most important truth I know.'
'It is a lie. We're not temporary. We're not fake. We're—' Isla kissed him, desperate and real, needing to erase the performance with genuine connection. 'We're forever. That press conference was just noise. This is real.'
They drove to a hotel Ryder had booked under a fake name—neutral territory while they figured out their next move. The suite was modest, anonymous, blessedly free of memories and media attention.
The moment the door closed, Ryder had her against it, kissing her like he was reclaiming what the press conference had made them pretend wasn't sacred. 'Tell me again,' he demanded between kisses. 'Tell me this is real.'
'This is real. You're real. We're real.' Isla pulled him closer, needing to prove it, to feel it, to drown out everything else with the one truth that mattered. 'I love you. Not for show. Not for strategy. Just because you're you and I'm me and we're inevitable.'
They made love with desperate intensity, erasing the performance with passion, replacing lies with truth. Afterward, wrapped in hotel sheets, Isla traced the scars on his chest—the ones from bullets taken for her, the ones from combat survived.
'The media is already twisting it,' she said quietly, checking her phone. 'Gold digger. Opportunist. Manipulative bodyguard taking advantage. They're destroying you to sell papers.'
'Let them. Their opinion means nothing.' His hand covered hers, stilling it against his heart. 'I know who I am. You know who I am. That's enough.'
'Is it? Because these stories follow you. Affect your reputation. Your future security business. Your—'
'My future is with you. That's all that matters.' He pulled her closer. 'Everything else is just noise. And noise fades. But this?' He gestured between them. 'This is permanent. This is real. This is the only thing I'm sure of in this entire mess.'
'The fake dating strategy is working though. Public interest is shifting. People are starting to question whether we're really together or just spinning PR. Which means when we disappear, they'll assume it was always temporary. That we've gone our separate ways.' Isla looked up at him. 'We'll be free. Finally. No cameras. No speculation. Just us.'
'Where do you want to go? When we disappear?' Ryder's fingers traced patterns on her skin. 'Beach? Mountains? Foreign country where no one knows your name?'
'Somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can figure out who Isla Reeves is without the Thornton legacy. Without the corporate expectations. Without the weight of everything I thought I was supposed to be.' She smiled softly. 'Somewhere with you. That's the only requirement.'
'I can work with that.' He kissed her temple. 'We'll find somewhere beautiful and remote. Rent a house. Spend months just... existing. Being normal people in a normal relationship without assassins and media circuses and family conspiracies.'
'Sounds like paradise.'
'Sounds like exactly what we both need.' Ryder's phone buzzed. He checked it, his expression darkening. 'The board wants to meet with you. About your inheritance. About taking over Thornton Holdings or selling. They're pushing for a decision.'
'Tell them I need time. Malcolm just died. I'm processing everything. They can wait.' Isla's voice was firm. 'I'm not making life-altering decisions while I'm still in shock.'
'Good. Take all the time you need.' He set the phone aside. 'And Isla? Whatever you decide—keep the company, sell it, burn it to the ground—I'm with you. Your choice. Your life. Your future. I'm just honored to be part of it.'
She kissed him, slow and sweet, pouring gratitude and love and bone-deep relief into the contact. This man. This beautiful, damaged, perfect man who loved her without agenda, without ulterior motives, without anything except genuine, uncomplicated devotion.
'Let's disappear soon,' she whispered. 'Before the world finds more ways to complicate things. Before the board forces decisions. Before anything else can go wrong. Let's just... run away together. Like we planned.'
'Tomorrow. We'll leave tomorrow. I'll arrange everything tonight—fake identities, travel under the radar, cash transactions only. We'll be ghosts.' His arms tightened around her. 'And when we're finally somewhere safe and quiet, I'm going to spend every day showing you exactly how loved you are. No performances. No strategies. Just us and truth and forever.'
'Tomorrow,' Isla agreed, letting herself believe in escape, in freedom, in a future without constant threat. 'Tomorrow we disappear. And we start over.