Chapter 7 - The Cliffhouse Blueprint
Four months later.
The northern cliffs thirty miles outside the city were raw, wild, and breathtaking. The Atlantic ocean crashed against the jagged black granite rocks a hundred feet below, sending white plumes of sea spray high into the autumn air.
A heavy black SUV was parked near the edge of the cliff road.
Simone stood near the edge of the drop-off, wearing a heavy tan trench coat and thick boots, holding a roll of large architectural blueprints under her arm. Beside her, Sunny was bounding through the tall golden grass, chasing leaves that blew across the open field.
Thorne stepped out of the vehicle, holding two hard hats in his hands—one standard size, and one slightly smaller.
He walked over to her, his heavy boots crunching on the gravel. He reached out and gently placed the smaller hard hat on Simone's head, adjusting the chin strap with careful, practiced fingers.
"It fits better than the one in the photo," she teased, looking up at him with bright, happy eyes.
"Everything fits better now," Thorne replied softly.
They walked over to a wide wooden platform that had been constructed over the foundation site. Concrete footings had already been poured deep into the solid granite cliff face, forming the skeleton of what would soon be a magnificent glass-and-stone residence overlooking the sea.
Simone unrolled the blueprints across a wooden drafting table set up on the platform, weighing down the corners with smooth river stones.
"The south wing is entirely glass," Simone explained, pointing her finger at the detailed line drawings. "It captures the morning light directly off the water. The central hall uses local granite, keeping the heat in during the winter storms."
Thorne leaned over the table, his eyes scanning the technical drawings with the deep, natural appreciation of the boy who used to steal architectural books from secondhand shops.
"And the study?" Thorne asked.
Simone smiled, turning to the third page of the blueprints. "Right here. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on three sides, a central stone fireplace, and a private entrance leading directly down to the beach trail."
She looked up at him. "And no doors that lock from the outside. Only open space."
Thorne looked at the drawing, then out at the endless horizon of the blue ocean stretching out before them.
For twenty years, he had lived in fortresses. He had built walls, installed bulletproof glass, locked heavy steel gates, and surrounded himself with armed men because he believed the world was an enemy waiting to destroy him.
Now, standing on a windy cliff beside the woman who had taught him how to live again, he realized that true power was not the ability to keep the world out.
True power was the courage to build something beautiful and leave the door open.
Kane walked up the wooden steps of the platform, dressed in a surprisingly relaxed wool sweater instead of his usual black suit. He held two mugs of hot cider.
"The framing crew arrives on Monday, Ms. Park," Kane reported with a polite nod. "The contractor says the roof will be sealed before the first snowfall."
"Thank you, Kane," Simone smiled, taking a mug. "How are things in the city?"
Kane glanced at Thorne with a quiet, knowing look. "Quiet, ma'am. Moretti’s old territory has been completely integrated into our legitimate logistics network. The council hasn't had a single dispute in three months. In fact... Don Carmine sent a bottle of twenty-year-old scotch to the office yesterday as a congratulations gift for the new build."
Thorne took his mug of cider, taking a slow sip. "Tell Carmine I accept the scotch, but he’s still not invited to the housewarming."
Kane allowed a small chuckle to escape his lips. "Understood, sir."
As Kane walked back toward the car, Sunny came trotting up the platform steps, carrying a large piece of driftwood in his mouth. He dropped it right at Thorne’s feet, barking once as if demanding that the former crime boss throw it for him.
Thorne looked down at the dog, then at the wooden stick.
Six months ago, Thorne would have considered playing fetch with a dog on a muddy cliff a complete waste of time—an inefficiency he could not afford in a world of ruthlessness.
He bent down, picked up the wet piece of wood, and threw it with all his strength out into the open golden field.
Sunny let out a joyful bark and bounded after it, his golden coat gleaming in the autumn sun.
Simone leaned against Thorne’s side, wrapping her arm through his. He pulled her close, his arm strong and warm around her waist as they watched the dog run through the grass.
"Are you happy, Thorne?" she asked softly, looking up at his profile.
May you like
Thorne looked down at her, taking in her clear eyes, her warm smile, and the peaceful life they had fought so hard to secure.
"I spent my whole life building walls, Simone," Thorne said, his voice deep, rich, and filled with a quiet grace. "I didn't know what happiness was until you walked through them."
