Page 63 of His Untouchable Heart

I snorted. “Agreed. I don’t need his bad energy lingering in our family tree.”

“Well, that narrows it down to about a million other names.” He glanced at me. “What do you like?”

I tilted my head, pretending to think seriously. “I’ve always liked strong names. Something classic but not overused.”

“Gabrielle Jr. it is,” he said.

“Bold of you to assume I’m not the dramatic one in this relationship.”

He grinned, and for a moment, the weight of the last few weeks seemed to slide off his shoulders. “What about Lucien?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Sounds like he was born wearing a smoking jacket and quoting French poetry.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “So… not a maybe.”

“More like a hard pass.”

His eyes softened as he turned onto my street. “And you’re okay with all of this? The chaos. The questions. Us.”

I looked at him, really looked at him. The man who once stood across from me like a locked door was now driving me home, holding my hand over the life we were making together.

“We didn’t just walk away from a scandal,” I said quietly. “We walked into something bigger. Something real. The kind of future I thought I’d never see come true.”

He stopped at a red light and turned to me. The light painted him in soft gold. His jawline, his eyes, the faint curve of something that looked like peace.

“No matter what we call him,” he remarked, “he has parents that love him.”

“And that is all he needs.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Anthony

Several Weeks Later

The apartment smelled like coffee, cinnamon toast, and shampoo. Somewhere in the back bedroom room, Juliette’s hairdryer roared to life. Gabrielle sat cross-legged at the breakfast table in one of my old T-shirts, stealing bites of my toast like she didn’t have a full plate of her own. The morning light illuminated the stack of books Juliette had abandoned mid-research, and the paint-splattered coffee mug set off to one side.

Domestic chaos. Cozy. Familiar. I could’ve sat there forever if I weren’t quietly losing my mind.

Today was the day.

I kept my face neutral as I refilled Gabrielle’s mug. My hand didn’t even shake. Calm on the outside, hurricane on the inside.

Juliette waltzed in a moment later, hair still damp, phone in one hand, spooning yogurt into her mouth with the other like she’d invented multitasking.

“Any word from the MM&W Foundation?” she asked, dropping into the seat beside Gabrielle. “Do Gabrielle and I officially ownA Lady and Gentleman in Blackyet?”

Smooth as ever, I smiled. “Not yet. These things take time.”

That part was true. But the foundation had cleared it days ago. The paperwork sat in my briefcase at the office—signed, sealed, and locked away until I was ready to reveal the rest.

Which was today. But I couldn’t tell them that yet.

Juliette made a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan. “Louisa and I have a patron lined up—one of the university donors. He’s interested in acquiring the piece for their permanent collection. You’d love him, Anthony. He’s old, wealthy, and wears a cravat unironically.”

I arched a brow. “Sounds like someone I’d avoid at a fundraiser.”

Gabrielle bit back a laugh as Juliette continued, undeterred. “All I’m saying is, the faster we get the green light, the faster that painting finds a new home, and we get our commission.”

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