Chapter 31 Isn't Nearly Enough for Me
Briar's POV
"You promised," I said, keeping my voice steady even as my heart hammered against my ribs. "You said if I kept you happy, you'd put in a good word with Reginald."
His eyes darkened, something unreadable flickering in their depths. "So you're holding my face because you want to cash in on a deal?"
I forced myself to hold his gaze, maintaining the pretense of control. "Did I misunderstand the terms?"
Lucian's hands came up, covering mine where they rested against his face. His grip was firm but careful, and the warmth of his touch sent electricity racing up my arms. "This level of closeness," he said quietly, his thumbs tracing slow circles against the backs of my hands, "isn't nearly enough for me."
My breath caught. "Then what level would be enough?"
His smile was slow and deliberate, the kind that made my stomach flip. "I want more than one chance at this."
The words hung in the air between us, loaded with implications I wasn't ready to examine. I pulled my hands back, needing distance to think clearly, and Lucian let me go without resistance.
The drive to the main house felt shorter than it should have. Thomas, Reginald's butler, met us at the entrance with practiced efficiency. The building itself was stunning, all white columns and neoclassical architecture that gleamed in the moonlight. He led us through marble hallways to the west wing, our footsteps echoing against polished floors.
"Miss Vance, your room is on the third floor," Thomas said, gesturing toward a curved staircase. "Corner suite with a view of the lake. Mr. Kincaid, you'll be across the hall."
Across the hall. Less than thirty feet away.
My room was beautiful, all French windows and tasteful furniture that probably cost more than my monthly rent. I walked to the balcony, drawn by the view of moonlight reflecting off the lake. The water looked black and silver, peaceful in a way that made my racing thoughts feel even more chaotic.
Movement caught my eye. Across the way, in what had to be Lucian's room, a curtain shifted. Just a small movement, barely noticeable, but enough to make my heart kick into overdrive. I stepped back quickly, pressing my spine against the wall inside my room and forcing myself to breathe normally.
This was ridiculous. I was a grown woman running a pharmaceutical company, not some teenager getting flustered over a boy's proximity. But knowing that didn't stop my pulse from racing or my skin from feeling too warm.
I took a long shower, hoping the hot water would wash away the tension, but it only made things worse. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lucian's face in that moment, the way he'd looked at me when I touched him. The way his thumbs had traced patterns against my hands. The promise in his voice when he said he wanted more than one chance.
What did that even mean? More chances to what? To touch him? To be close? To cross whatever invisible line we'd been dancing around since the day he walked into my office?
I climbed into bed determined to sleep, but my brain had other plans. Hours later, I was still staring at the ceiling, replaying every interaction we'd had, trying to decode meanings that probably didn't exist. Trying to convince myself that this was all still professional, that I was still in control of the situation.
The problem was, I didn't feel in control. I felt like I was being pulled along by forces I didn't fully understand, guided by Lucian's careful orchestrations in ways I couldn't quite see but definitely sensed. And the worst part was that some traitorous part of me didn't mind being led, as long as it was his hand doing the leading.
I finally fell asleep around two in the morning, exhausted from fighting battles in my own head.
Morning came too early. I dragged myself downstairs to the dining room, where Reginald and Lucian were already seated. Reginald was reading something on his tablet, muttering about his grandson Jason's latest escapade involving speeding tickets and damaged guardrails on the highway.
"Sit next to Lucian," Reginald said without looking up, waving vaguely at the empty chair. "I can't stand watching young people be so stiff and formal across the table from each other."
I sat, hyperaware of Lucian's presence beside me. He was reading something on his phone, but I caught him glancing at my plate as Thomas set it down.
"That's your breakfast?" Lucian asked, nodding at the single piece of toast and handful of blueberries. "You'll be hungry in an hour."
"I have the Ironwood Pack charity gala in a few weeks," I said, reaching for my coffee. "I need to fit into the dress I ordered."
Something flickered across his face, too quick for me to read. He gestured to Thomas, who returned moments later with a plate of delicate macarons in pastel colors.
"Low calorie," Lucian said, pushing the plate toward me. "And before you argue, I already checked."
Reginald left shortly after, citing business calls he needed to make. The dining room felt smaller with just the two of us, the silence more intimate than conversation would have been. I was finishing my second macaron when Thomas rushed back in, his usual composure visibly cracked.
"Mr. Gray, there's been an incident," Thomas said, addressing Reginald who had just returned. "Jason's accident last night was worse than initially reported. The guardrail debris rolled down the slope and completely blocked the mountain road. The repair crew says they can't clear it until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest."
My stomach dropped. Tomorrow afternoon meant two more days here. Two more days of Lucian being thirty feet away across a hallway. Two more nights of lying awake trying not to think about him.
"I really need to get back to the city," I said, trying to keep the edge of panic out of my voice. "The Apex bidding preparation can't wait that long."
"The road's completely impassable," Thomas said apologetically. "Boulders and debris scattered across both lanes. There's no alternate route down the mountain."
Reginald returned to the table, looking more amused than concerned by the situation. "Well, looks like you're both my guests for a while longer. Thomas, make sure they have everything they need. Fresh clothes, toiletries, whatever they require. Briar, my staff is at your disposal."
Lucian's expression remained perfectly calm, almost pleased. "It'll give us more time to review strategy for the bidding process."
I forced a smile and nodded, my mind already racing through everything that needed handling at the office. At least I could work remotely. At least I could maintain some professional distance, even if we were physically trapped in the same house.
By afternoon, I'd claimed the white gazebo by the lake as my temporary office. The setting was absurdly peaceful, with swans gliding across the dark water while I conducted an emergency video conference with my team. The contrast between the serene environment and the stress knotting my shoulders would have been funny if I weren't so tense.
I listened to department updates with half my attention on the screen and half on managing my frustration. Then the design team presented their packaging mockup, and I felt my blood pressure spike immediately. Clean lines. Minimalist aesthetic. Generic corporate branding. Completely, utterly wrong.
"Stop," I said, cutting off the presentation mid-sentence. "This looks like packaging for tech gadgets, not herbal medicine. Where are the botanical elements? Where's anything that connects to pack culture or traditional healing? Where's the identity that makes us different from every other pharmaceutical company?"
Silence on the other end of the call. Then stammering excuses about modern market appeal and reaching broader demographics and focus group feedback.
"You have five days," I said, my voice dropping to that cold, precise tone that made people straighten in their chairs. "Five days to deliver packaging that actually represents what we're selling and who we're selling to. If I don't see dramatic improvement by then, I'll replace the entire design department. Do I make myself clear?"
More silence. Nervous agreement. I was about to end the call when I heard it, faint but unmistakable because someone hadn't muted their microphone properly.
"She's lost her mind. We can't even scrape together next month's payroll, and she's threatening to fire everyone."