Anri POV
Switzerland had always been the dream.
Not just a passing Pinterest board fantasy—but the kind of dream I whispered to myself on long shifts, scrolling through snowy landscapes and glossy train rides between double shifts and no sleep.
It was the dream I never said aloud.
Because back then, dreams like this were luxury. They belonged to someone else. Someone sponsored, supported, spoiled. Someone with parents who offered plane tickets instead of guilt trips. Someone with the time to imagine life beyond the next paycheck.
But when Lucien had asked—
"Where would you want to go during the two weeks off?"
"Switzerland," I answered, without thinking.
He didn't even blink. "Then that's where we'll go."
And I said yes.
Just like that.
No hesitation. No overthinking. Just yes.
Because something about the way he said it... I knew he meant it.
And now, here we were.
In a glass-wrapped villa nestled in the Alps, the air smelling of pine and firewood, snow falling just beyond our windows. The kind of place I didn't even know existed outside editorials. Mountains rose around us like folded silk. The sky was soft, gray, endless. I'd never breathed air so cold and clean.
Lucien had booked it without telling me the details. Just sent the itinerary. I hadn't even looked at the price. I didn't want to know.
For once, I let myself be spoiled.
And it felt good.
Too good.
The next morning, I found him barefoot in the kitchen, leaning over the espresso machine like he'd always lived here.
Gray joggers slung low on his hips, navy long-sleeved shirt pushed to his elbows. His hair was damp from the shower, slightly mussed, and the dimple in his cheek flickered when he glanced up and smiled—real and unguarded.
Of course he looked stupidly good in vacation mode.
"You're working?" I teased, sipping the coffee he handed me.
"Remotely," he said, glancing at his watch. "I've got a short meeting in twenty minutes. Just updates from the Asia team."
"You really just... vanish like that?"
He shrugged. "That's why I built a system. I trust my people."
"You run an empire."
"And you're the only part I'm logging off for."
"I think it's finally hitting me," I murmured. "You're not just someone in the company. You are the company."
Lucien walked toward me and tapped a finger under my chin. "You didn't figure that out when we flew here on demand?"
I pouted at him, unable to retort back.
He smirked, kissed the corner of my mouth, and headed to the villa's office.
"Go take a dip in the pool," he said. "I'll join you after my call. Thirty minutes."
And I did.
The pool was located on the lower level—private, silent, glass-lined on all sides. The water was warm and clear, steam floating lazily on the surface, and beyond the walls, the Alps towered in full, white-coated majesty.
I wore my best swimsuit.
A black two-piece bikini I'd saved for a trip that had never come—until now.
The top was sleek and structured, low-cut enough to tease but supportive where it mattered. The bottoms were high-cut, hugging my hips and elongating my legs. The straps dipped low on my back, and everything cinched perfectly at the waist—drawing focus to my flat stomach and hourglass silhouette.
I knew I looked good.
I always had a petite frame, but I was full in the places that mattered—especially my breasts. My thighs were soft and strong, hips curved, and wet skin had a way of catching light that I'd learned not to be shy about.
My long black hair clung to my shoulders, damp and heavy, slicked down my spine as I floated along the warm surface. My cheeks were flushed from the heat, and my lips were naturally reddish, parted just slightly as I breathed in the mountain air.
And when I stepped out of the water, towel in hand, I didn't rush.
I let the droplets slide down my skin, tracing my thighs, curling at the back of my knees.
I lifted my hair over one shoulder and started drying it slowly—like I wasn't expecting company.
Like I hadn't heard the door open. But I had.
And I knew exactly who it was.
Lucien.
I didn't turn.
Just kept squeezing the ends of my hair, towel dragging down my back, posture straight, spine arched slightly as I leaned into the motion.
I heard the breath catch in his throat.
Felt the way the air stilled behind me.
I knew what he was seeing.
The dip of my waist. The full curve of my ass where the swimsuit cut high. The droplets racing down my spine. The way my breasts rose and fell with each breath—barely held in place by black fabric that left little to the imagination.
Still, I feigned innocence.
"Didn't hear you come in," I said lightly, without turning.
Lucien's voice came after a pause. Tighter. Rougher. "You look..."
I finally turned.
Lifted my chin. Met his eyes.
He was standing there with his shirt undone, chest barely covered, jaw tight, hair slightly messy like he'd run a hand through it more than once during the call.
His stare dropped—once—to my chest.
Then to my hips.
Then back up.
His throat moved like he was swallowing something he didn't want to say out loud.