Chapter 208
Chapter 208
Daniel's POV
I sat in the dim corner of a quiet café on the outskirts of Seattle, the kind of place where no one looks twice at you. The smell of roasted coffee beans hung heavy in the air, mixing with the faint dampness of the rainy day outside. My phone buzzed earlier with a message from Margaret, asking to meet. I didn’t think twice about it. If it was about Claire, I’d be there.
Margaret was already seated when I arrived, her posture perfect, a tailored blazer hugging her frame. She looked like she belonged in a boardroom, not a rundown coffee shop. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, met mine as I slid into the chair across from her. The thick folder on the table between us caught my attention right away.
“Mr. Brown,” she started, her voice smooth but cold, like ice on a winter lake. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.” She pushed the folder toward me with a manicured hand. “This is a revised prenuptial agreement. I’ve consulted with top lawyers to ensure it protects the Stanton family interests.”
I flipped it open, scanning the pages. Words like “restricted access to shares,” “divorce settlement limitations,” and “confidentiality of core enterprise data” jumped out at me. It was a legal cage, designed to keep me out of anything that mattered to the Stantons. I felt the weight of her gaze on me, waiting for a reaction.
I didn’t give her one. I grabbed the pen she slid over and signed my name on the dotted line without a word. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of confusion breaking her composed mask.
“You don’t have any questions?” she asked, leaning forward just a fraction, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup.
“Nope,” I said, pushing the folder back to her. “It’s clear. I’m not here for your family’s money.”
Margaret’s lips pressed into a thin line. She studied me for a long moment, like she was trying to crack open my skull and see what I was thinking. “Please, don’t tell Claire about this meeting,” she finally said, her tone firm but quieter now. “It’s just a necessary precaution to protect the family.”
I nodded, meeting her gaze head-on. “I get your concern. I respect your request. But let me be straight—I love Claire, not the Stanton wealth.” I stood up, leaving her with that. As I walked out into the drizzle, I could feel her eyes on my back, probably wondering why I didn’t fight. Truth is, I didn’t care about their money or their games. I cared about Claire. That’s it.
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Later that week, I found myself in Claire’s world again, far from secret meetings and legal traps. We were in a private dining room at Canlis, Seattle’s finest restaurant, the massive window before us overlooking Lake Washington. The city lights twinkled in the distance, reflecting off the dark water. The scent of grilled steak and fresh herbs filled the air as I watched Claire twirl her fork through a plate of pasta, her movements graceful even in something so mundane.
“I’m not into bachelor parties,” she said casually, her green eyes flicking up to meet mine. “But if you want one, go ahead.”
I set my knife down, watching her closely. “Not interested.”
She smirked, a playful glint in her gaze as she leaned forward, her voice dropping. “Las Vegas has some wild strip clubs, you know. I’ve heard plenty of guys have their last single nights there. Bunny girls, pole dancing, the whole deal.” She raised an eyebrow, testing me.
I held her stare, my jaw tightening for a second before I spoke. “Claire, in my heart, I’m already married.”
Her smirk faded, replaced by something softer, but she didn’t look away. I leaned in, my voice steady. “It’s like taking a test. When you know the right answer, you pick it the moment you see it. No need to check the other options. I chose you. Done.”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she kept her tone light, teasing. “Which eye of yours sees me as the right answer? I’m not even sure myself.” She let out a small laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
I reached across the table, my fingers brushing hers, feeling the warmth of her skin. “Both eyes. Always have.”
The air between us shifted, charged with something deeper than words. In a quieter corner of the restaurant, hidden by shadows and the hum of other diners, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I leaned over, my fingers undoing the top two buttons of her blouse, exposing the delicate curve of her collarbone. I pressed my lips there, tasting the faint salt of her skin, her breath hitching as I did. Her scent—vanilla and something uniquely hers—filled my senses, driving me wild.
“Daniel,” she whispered, her voice shaky as her hand slid to my thigh under the table, nails digging in just enough to send a jolt through me. “We’re in public.”
“Don’t care,” I growled against her neck, my hand sliding to her waist, pulling her closer. She let out a soft gasp, her fingers trembling as she undid another button, revealing the black lace of her bra. The dim light danced over her skin, making my pulse race faster.
My hand moved lower, slipping under the hem of her skirt, tracing the smooth skin of her thigh. I froze for a split second when I realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The discovery hit me like a punch, raw desire flooding through me. “Claire,” I rasped, my voice thick, “you’re killing me.”
She smirked, her eyes dark with want as she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. “Then do something about it.” Her words were a challenge, and I was done holding back.
I pulled her closer, my fingers daring to explore further, feeling the heat of her, the wetness that told me she wanted this just as bad. Her breath came in short, sharp pants against my shoulder, her body arching into my touch. “Fuck, Daniel,” she hissed, her voice low and desperate, her hand gripping my arm tight. “Don’t stop.”
I didn’t. My fingers moved with purpose, stroking her, feeling her tighten around me as her nails dug into my skin. Her head tilted back, lips parted in a silent cry, and I watched her come undone right there. The sight of her—flushed, trembling, completely mine—sent a surge through me I couldn’t ignore. I shifted, pressing myself against her thigh under the table, letting her feel how hard she’d made me.
“Feel that?” I muttered, my voice rough as I nipped at her earlobe. “That’s what you do to me. Every damn time.”
She let out a shaky laugh, her hand sliding up my arm to my shoulder, her nails leaving faint scratches through my shirt. “Good,” she breathed, her eyes locked on mine, full of fire. “I want you to ache for me.”
I groaned low in my throat, fighting the urge to take her right there, consequences be damned. But the faint clink of glasses and murmur of voices reminded me where we were. I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my hand still resting on her thigh, feeling the aftershocks of her trembling. “We’re not done,” I promised, my voice a low rumble. “Not by a long shot.”