Page 89 of The Exception

“You should be proud of yourself,” Graham said.

I eyed him skeptically. Was he mocking me? I didn’t think so. He sounded sincere.

“I mean it, Lil. What you’ve done is incredible. The scope of this project…” He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he surveyed the château. “I don’t think I fully comprehended it until I was standing here, seeing everything you’ve accomplished.”

I wanted to bask in his praise, like a flower that finally felt the sun after a long, cold winter. It was so nice to have someone see what I’d done and appreciate it. Someone whose opinion I respected. Someone I admired.

My family—and most of the locals—might think I’d lost my mind, but Graham believed in me. And that meant more than… I sucked in a jagged breath. More than he could ever know.

I dipped my head, using my hair as a curtain. “Thanks.” Needing to break the tension, I said, “You may not be as impressed when you see our accommodations.”

The word brought to mind Knox’s yacht and the night Graham and I had shared a bed. Since then, we’d returned to our separate rooms and separate beds at his penthouse. I knew it was for the best, but I still found myself wishing for a way back to that space. To that intimacy, communication, and connection.

We’d been so in sync.

I often fell asleep thinking of that night, remembering the way he’d touched me. Looked at me. As if I really were his jewel, as he’d called me in French. Something rare and precious that he wanted to protect.

He was still parsimonious with his words, reserved. But it felt as if he were thawing. Softening. He’d ask me questions about the château or my travels. My family and my dreams. And I’d ask him about his. It was nice.

I’d made several appearances at Graham’s office, and we’d gone to lunch. But we’d also shared some dinners at home, alone. We’d even taken the dogs on walks together, and I knew he was trying. But every night, I’d returned to my bedroom, spending my nights alone.

I told myself it was for the best. I told myself this was what I’d wanted. And yet my body craved his touch.

Messy,I reminded myself. It was too messy, and there was too much riding on the success of our agreement.

“I was wondering about our living space,” he mused, bringing me back to the present. “I noticed you left it off your tour.”

I shrugged as if to say, “Guilty.”

He gave my shoulder a playful shake. He’d been doing that more lately—touching me. At the gala. In the kitchen. Even now, when no one was watching. I didn’t want to like it, but I did.

“Come on,” he said. “It can’t be that bad.”

I rolled my lips between my teeth. “Mm-hmm.”

It was probably even worse than whatever he’d imagined. And compared to his luxury LA penthouse, it was practically a shack in the woods. Yes, we were staying in part of the château, but it was still very rustic.

That said, it was one of the few parts of the château that was actually habitable. It had running water, was tucked out of the way of the construction, and was private.

“This way,” I said, heading for the entrance to my living quarters.

I’d been meaning to do a video on it; it was one of my subscribers’ most frequently asked questions. Apart from how much the restoration was going to cost. But that was anyone’s guess.

Thanks to Graham’s investment, though—that was what I’d decided to call it—I could move forward with a ton of projects I’d been putting off. I’d already spoken to my lead architect about them, and I couldn’t wait to get back to work myself.

I opened the door to my apartment within the château. It was nestled in the basement, though you entered at ground level since it was located in the dry moat. I cringed, imagining Graham’s reaction to the spartan accommodations.

The internet was spotty. The linens were old but soft and clean. And I hadn’t put much effort into the decor—hadn’t had the time or desire. Besides, this was just temporary.

One day, I’d move in to a larger, more modern apartment in the château. I’d have shutters that opened to a view of the gardens. A fully functioning kitchen, laundry room so I wouldn’t have to venture into town every time I needed to wash clothes. Which, considering how hard construction was on mine, was often. I also envisioned a large, rainfall shower and—best of all—hot water.

But for now, I lived simply, and it suited my needs. At least, it had.

Now that Graham and I were married, now that I’d spent the past week at his penthouse, I worried he wouldn’t be comfortable here. It was much smaller than his place, and I hadn’t considered how intimate it would feel to share such a cozy space with him.

“Here’s the kitchen and dining.” I gestured to my basic food storage, mini fridge, and hot plate. There was a simple farm table with two chairs that I’d found in one of the château’s rooms.

He surveyed the space but said nothing.

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