Chapter 675:

Meanwhile, as Brad and Rylie made their way halfway to the lot, rain began to fall, exactly as Kyla had foreseen.

The studio’s brick-paved road glistened under the rainfall.

Halfway along, water pooled into shallow puddles, and Rylie’s foot pressed onto a loose brick. Muddy water splashed up, staining her pants and shoes. She paused with a faint frown.

Brad, umbrella in hand, stopped almost in unison. His gaze dropped to her mud-splattered shoes, then shifted to the uneven stretch ahead.

“Step onto the stairs,” he instructed, his tone soft but carrying unquestionable command. Extending the umbrella toward her, he added, “Here, take this.”

Rylie moved onto the raised stone ledge and accepted the umbrella.

Before she could register what he intended, Brad turned his back to her and lowered himself into a steady squat, his broad shoulders and strong frame braced against the rain.

“I’ll carry you. You hold the umbrella.”

His voice carried a quiet authority, leaving her with no room to refuse.

Rylie stared at his back, pausing for only a moment. She pressed her lips lightly together, bent down, and carefully leaned onto his broad back, wrapping one arm around his neck while holding the umbrella over them both with her other hand.

Brad’s arm swept beneath her knees, and with steady strength he drew her up against him. In one fluid motion, he adjusted her in his hold until she rested securely, cradled in a position that felt both effortless and protective.

Her weight was nothing to him, his stride steady and unbroken.

Brad, in his black trench coat, walked tall and composed, carrying her with ease. Her long hair spilled down his shoulder, framing part of her delicate profile and drawing the eyes of those they passed.

Outside the umbrella, rain pattered softly, yet beneath its shelter lay a hushed world where their breaths intertwined. From time to time, a strand of Rylie’s hair brushed against his neck, leaving behind a cool trace and the faint sweetness of her scent.

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Brad’s gaze lingered on the quiet alley stretching ahead, a sudden wish rising within him—that the path might never end.

The SUV eventually rolled to a stop at the villa’s entrance.

Brad got out with the umbrella, circled to the passenger side, and pulled the door open. As Rylie lifted her hand to release the seatbelt, he leaned in first, his broad palm already pressing against the buckle.

At once, a cool cedar scent laced with faint medicinal notes closed in around her, his breath brushing near her lips, suspending the air in a charged stillness. His eyes lingered on her, the depth in them carrying an unspoken warmth. His voice softened to a murmur, steady and tender.

“Get some rest, my girl.”

Rylie’s lashes quivered as Brad lifted her from the car and carried her toward the porch. The image of his damp hair clinging at the ends, the faint trace of muscle visible beneath his shirt, stayed with her long after she stepped inside. Her pulse refused to settle.

Earlier that day, Ainsley had uploaded a fresh post.

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