Chapter 48
Étienne
There were so many ways I could reveal too much. I forced myself to adopt the tone I used in board meetings, cool and measured, even as something possessive and entirely inappropriate coiled in my gut. "The right answer is whatever you actually want, Elena. You're an adult. You don't need my permission to have lunch with a friend."
"Is that what he is? A friend?" She stood, moving closer, and I had to resist the urge to step back, to maintain the distance I'd just created. "Because he seems to think he could be more. And Mother keeps suggesting I should give him a chance—he's from a good family, age-appropriate, excellent prospects..."
"Your mother has always been practical." My jaw was so tight I could barely speak, and I felt my free hand curl into a fist at my side. The thought of Maxime touching her, of anyone touching her the way I'd just been touching her, made something dark and possessive rise in my chest. "Maxime would be perfectly suitable if you're interested."
"But I'm not interested." She said it simply, as though discussing the weather, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease fractionally even as I told myself her romantic choices were none of my concern. "He's too... much. Too loud, too eager to show me off. When he touches me, I feel displayed rather than seen."
Relief and something far more dangerous flooded through me, and I had to look away to hide whatever expression was crossing my face. I crushed both emotions ruthlessly, reminding myself that her disinterest in Maxime didn't change anything, couldn't change anything. "Then tell him directly. You don't owe anyone your time simply because they have your mother's approval. If someone makes you uncomfortable, refuse their company."
"Is that your official position as my guardian?" The corner of her mouth quirked upward, and there was something almost challenging in her expression. "Or is there perhaps another reason you'd prefer I not spend time with Maxime?"
The question was a trap, and we both knew it. I could feel the boundaries between us dissolving like salt in water, could feel the careful control I'd maintained for five years beginning to slip, and I needed to reinforce those walls immediately, before this conversation veered into territory from which there would be no return.
My phone vibrated again, more insistently this time, and I pulled it from my pocket with more force than necessary. I answered without waiting for her response, turning slightly away as Rémi's voice came through clear and professional. "Étienne. The board has confirmed Monday, nine a.m. They want you in the executive suite by eight for preliminary briefings."
"Understood. Send me the briefing materials tonight." I kept my voice neutral, aware of Elena's presence behind me, of the weight of her attention on my shoulders, of the way my body was still hyperaware of her proximity.
"Already done. Congratulations, by the way. You've earned this."
"All power comes at a cost," I said quietly, thinking of the compromises I'd made to secure this position, the pieces of myself I'd traded away. "The question is whether the price was worth paying."
I ended the call and turned back to find Elena watching me with an expression of genuine warmth that made something in my chest constrict. "Congratulations. You'll be an excellent CEO."
"Thank you." I allowed myself a brief moment of acknowledgment before adding, "Though I suspect you're one of the few who would congratulate someone on acquiring more responsibilities and longer hours."
"I'm congratulating you on getting what you worked for," she corrected, moving closer again, close enough that I could catch the faint scent of her—clean sweat and specialized athletic tape and something uniquely her that I'd long ago memorized without meaning to. "On being recognized for your competence. That's worth celebrating."
She was close enough now that I could see the flecks of gold in her amber eyes, could see the way her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. "Your mother will want you to marry soon. Now that you'll be CEO, the board will expect stability. A wife would be... strategic."
The observation was astute and correct. I'd already had three conversations with board members about "settling down." The pressure would only intensify. But the thought of marrying anyone, of standing beside someone who wasn't—
I cut that thought off savagely. "The board can want whatever they like," I said, my voice harder than intended, rougher. "I won't accept arranged marriages or strategic alliances. That tradition can die with the previous generation."
Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, relief, or something I didn't dare name. Her lips parted slightly, and I found myself tracking the movement before I could stop myself. "You sound very certain."
"I am certain." And I was, with a clarity that should have warned me I was on dangerous ground. My hand tightened on the briefcase handle until I felt the leather creak. "I've spent my life fulfilling other people's expectations. I won't extend that to something as personal as marriage."
"But you want—" She stopped, biting her lower lip in that unconscious gesture that always made my gaze drop to her mouth before I could prevent it. "I mean, surely you must want companionship. Someone to share your life with."
"I have companionship." The words came out before I could stop them, rough and far too revealing. I could feel my control slipping, could feel the careful walls I'd built beginning to crumble. "I have people I care about, people whose wellbeing matters. That's sufficient."
"Is it?" She held my gaze, and I saw the question behind the question, saw the thing she was asking but couldn't quite voice, and I felt something in my chest crack open.