Chapter 36 Chapter 36

Chapter 36 Chapter 36
Lucien

"Yes, the fourth quarter projections look stable," Mr Vries, the interim operations director was saying, tablet in hand as he walked me through numbers I already knew. "However, the renovation of the east wing will require additional approval."

"Send the breakdown to my room," I replied evenly. "I'll review it personally."

My voice was professional. Unlike my thoughts.

Because across the lobby bathed in the soft gold light of the chandelier, Valentina stood beside him.

Adrian Van der Meer. Son of one of my father's long-time managers. The kind of man who smiled too easily when ambition was involved. We had never particularly gotten along. Not openly hostile just... incompatible.

And now he was the one assigned to show her around.

I watched as he gestured toward the grand staircase, explaining something. Valentina tilted her head slightly, listening. Then she smiled.

Something tightened in my chest before I could stop it. I forced my gaze back to De Vries. "What about staff restructuring?" I asked, though I barely registered his response.

Why him? Out of every senior staff member in this building, why assign Adrian to escort her?

Yes, the primary purpose of this trip was the hotel. One of my father's major investments in Amsterdam. A strategic expansion. I understood that.

But what I didn't understand was why Valentina needed to be here for this part of it.

Father was deliberate with everything he did. Nothing was random. So why bring her?

And why have Adrian personally attend to her? Adrian leaned slightly closer as he spoke. Close enough to grate against my nerves. Valentina laughed softly at something he said.

I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all.

"Mr. Lucien?" De Vries prompted.

I blinked, dragging my attention back. "Yes. Proceed."

But even as he continued outlining operational metrics, my eyes betrayed me again.

She looked comfortable. Curious. Unaware of the way my jaw had tightened. This was ridiculous.

I had no claim. No right to feel this flicker of possessiveness crawling under my skin. She was here as my father's wife. Officially. Publicly.

And yet, watching another man occupy her attention even in something as harmless as a tour felt like an intrusion.

A low, controlled irritation settled in my chest.

Father was planning something. I could feel it. He hadn't brought Valentina across continents just to observe renovations. And whatever it was, I didn't like that I wasn't fully in control of it.

Across the room, her eyes lifted. For a brief second, they met mine. The smile faded slightly. Just a touch.

And in that moment, I wasn't the composed executive reviewing hotel projections.

I was a man who didn't want another man standing that close to her. I straightened subtly, dismissing De Vries with a curt nod. "We'll continue this later."

My gaze returned to Adrian. If Father thought I wouldn't notice the details, he underestimated me. And if Adrian thought he could insert himself into something that wasn't his, he was about to be reminded exactly whose hotel this was.

I crossed the lobby at an unhurried pace. Adrian noticed me first. His posture shifted almost instantly—shoulders straighter, smile sharpening into something more professional. "Mr. Lucien," he greeted smoothly. "I was just showing Mrs. Benedict around the property."

Mrs. Benedict. The title landed like a reminder.

Valentina stood beside him, composed as ever.

"I can see that," I replied, my tone polite but cool. "How thorough of you."

Adrian didn't miss the edge. His smile held, but only just. "Chairman Ambrose wanted her familiar with the layout. Considering tomorrow's meeting."

I shifted my gaze to Valentina. "Enjoying the tour?"

She met my eyes evenly. "It's impressive," she said. "The detailing, the structure... it feels less like a hotel and more like a statement."

Adrian nodded quickly. "That was precisely the vision—"

"I'm aware of the vision," I cut in smoothly, eyes still on him now. "I reviewed the initial proposal."

Silence flickered between us. Valentina glanced between us, perceptive enough to sense the shift. Adrian cleared his throat.

"Well," he said lightly, "I was about to show her the executive conference floor."

"That won't be necessary."

The words left my mouth before I fully filtered them.

Adrian's brows lifted a fraction. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'll take it from here," I said calmly. "You should return to your duties. I'm sure my father expects everything flawless by morning."

A subtle dismissal.

Adrian hesitated just long enough for me to see the resistance flicker across his face. Then he inclined his head.

"Of course."

He turned to Valentina with a courteous smile. "It was a pleasure, Valentina."

She nodded politely. "Thank you."

And then he was gone. The moment he disappeared around I exhaled, turning to her.

"You seemed comfortable," I said, keeping my voice low.

Her brows lifted slightly. "I was being polite."

"I know him," I replied.

"And?"

"And I don't particularly enjoy seeing him assigned to you."

Her eyes studied me, something unreadable passing through them. "Assigned to me?" she echoed softly.

I stepped a little closer, lowering my voice further. "Father doesn't do anything without reason."

"And you think this is part of a reason?"

"I think," I said carefully, "that bringing you here isn't just about observation."

She went quiet at that.

The lobby noise carried on around us guests checking in, staff moving briskly but in that small pocket of space, it felt contained.

"You didn't like seeing me with him," she said after a moment.

My jaw tightened slightly. "No."

The honesty surprised even me.

"Why?"

Because you're not his to look at. Because the way you smiled at him felt wrong. Because I don't share.

But I couldn't say any of that. Instead, I held her gaze and said, "Because I don't trust him."

Half-truth.

Her eyes softened slightly, though she didn't push further.

"Then maybe," she said gently, "you should tell me what you think your father is planning."

I looked toward the elevator, toward the higher floors where Ambrose was likely already orchestrating something unseen.

"I intend to," I said quietly. "Before tomorrow. Come on, let me show you the executive conference floor."

She studied me for a second, as if weighing whether this was about business or something else entirely. Then she nodded.

We took the elevator up in silence. When the doors opened, the entire floor was empty quiet, pristine, prepared for tomorrow. I pushed open the double doors to the main conference room. The lights flickered on automatically, revealing a long polished table, leather chairs perfectly aligned, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

"This," I said, walking further inside, "is where tomorrow happens."

She stepped in slowly, eyes scanning everything. Her fingers brushed lightly against the back of one of the chairs. Observant. Curious.

"You've been here before?" she said.

"Yes."

More than once. I knew every corner of this place. Every blind spot. Every strategic decision my father had made within these walls. She turned to face me fully.

"You said you know Adrian," she said. "Who is he exactly? And... you don't seem to like him."

There it was. I slipped my hands into my pockets, jaw tightening slightly.

"His father manages three of our European properties," I said evenly. "Adrian's been trying to prove himself for years. Ambitious. Calculated."

"And?"

"And he likes to insert himself where he thinks opportunity exists."

Her brows lifted faintly. "Opportunity?"

I stepped closer. "Can you guess the reason I don't like him?" I asked.

She looked genuinely confused. "How would I know?"

I closed the remaining distance between us until the edge of the conference table pressed lightly against her back.

"Because," I said, voice lower now, "I don't like seeing him with you."

Her breath caught but she recovered quickly. She scoffed. "You don't like seeing me with another man?" Her chin lifted slightly. "Just so you know, I'm married to your father."

Something sharp moved through me. Irritation. Frustration. Jealousy I had no right to claim and yet felt anyway.

"I'm aware of that," I said, my tone tightening.

"Then what exactly is your problem, Lucien?"

I braced one hand on the table beside her, leaning in just enough to cage her without touching her.

"My problem, is that you think that title changes what happens when we're alone."

Her chest rose and fell faster now. I could see it. The subtle shift in her breathing. The way her fingers gripped the edge of the table behind her.

I reached up slowly, brushing my knuckles lightly along her jaw.

"You can say you're married to him," I murmured. "But he doesn't look at you the way I do."

Her lips parted slightly.

"He doesn't make your pulse race," I continued, my voice lowering further. "He doesn't make you forget how to breathe."

My hand slid down from her jaw to her collarbone slow, just enough to feel the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric. Her breath hitched.

"Lucien—" she started, but it came out unsteady.

I leaned closer, my mouth near her ear. "You can pretend all you want," I said softly. "But don't stand there and tell me you don't feel this."

Her eyes fluttered closed for half a second before she forced them open again.

"This….we shouldn’t do this here," she whispered.

"Yes," I agreed.

But neither of us moved away. The city lights shimmered behind her through the glass windows, the entire room silent except for the sound of our breathing. And right at that moment, business was the last thing on my mind.  I leaned in, closing the distance between us. My lips hovered just above hers, the moment electric, charged. Every instinct in me screamed to close that last inch.

But she moved her face. Something inside me tightened, coiling like a spring. My jaw clenched before I even realized it.

The rejection or maybe the restraint hit me harder than I wanted to admit. My chest ached with it, frustrated and restless, but also painfully aware of how badly I wanted her.

I pulled back, exhaling slowly, trying to shove the heat out of my chest, trying to convince myself it wasn’t a big deal.

“Are you… angry?” Her voice was soft, cautious, the kind that made my resolve wobble in ways I didn’t like.

I swallowed, forcing my breathing to steady. “No,” I said.

Her eyes searched my face like she didn’t quite believe me.

I broke the eye contact first.

“Let’s go,” I muttered.

I walked toward the door without waiting, pulling it open and stepping into the quiet corridor outside. The click of my shoes against the polished floor echoed.

Behind me, I heard her follow.

“You can find your way back to your room,” I said without looking at her. 

A pause.

“Lucien—”

“I’m not angry,” I said and walked away.