Page 54 of Until She's Mine
Richard’s jaw tightens, his fingers drumming against the arm of his chair. “Sentimentality has no place in business, Lucian. It’s a weakness.”
“It’s not sentimentality. Evelyn is more than capable of handling herself.”
“You think you’ve won?” Tobias spits at me. “Wait until the world finds out you’re fucking my ex-fiancée. The scandal will—”
“There won’t be a scandal. Unlike you, I control the narrative.” I straighten my cuffs. “You should have worked on that, but you spend all your time fucking flight attendants and interns. A shame, really. Your lack of foresight is your downfall.”
His face turns crimson. “You think you’re untouchable, Lucian? You think you can just waltz in here and—”
“Enough!” Richard’s voice thunders through the room, silencing Tobias mid-sentence. “This isn’t a courtroom, and I won’t have my sons bickering like children. Lucian, you’ve made your intentions clear. Tobias, you’ve made your grievances known. But let me remind you both that this is not about personal vendettas. This is about the Blackwood name.”
He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he focuses on me. “Lucian, if you’re going to pursue this...relationshipwith Evelyn Laurent, you will do so discreetly. No more public displays, no more tabloid fodder. Not until the dust settles and I’ve had time to assess the damage. And you will ensure Ms. Laurent signs the necessary paperwork to protect this family’s interests.
I incline my head. “Already arranged. She’ll be here at noon.”
“Good.” Richard’s attention shifts to Tobias. “As for you, you’ll cease all contact with Ms. Laurent immediately. No calls, no texts, no ‘accidental’ meetings. If I hear you’ve so much as breathed in her direction, I’ll freeze your trust fund faster than you can blink. You need to let this go. You will not speak of it to the press, your friends, or anyone else. Is that understood?”
Tobias’s mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. “You can’t—”
“I can and I will.” Richard’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “You’ve embarrassed this family enough with your philandering. I won’t have you dragging us through the mud over a woman who clearly has no interest in you.”
Tobias slumps back in his chair, his face a mask of resentment.
Richard exhales heavily. His gaze lingers on me, searching for doubt and regret. But he won’t find it. I’ve made my choice, and I’ll stand by it, no matter the cost. “Now, let’s focus on business. The Whitmore acquisition papers need your review before the close of business today, Lucian. And Tobias, the Henderson deposition requires your immediate attention.”
The shift in tone is abrupt, a clear signal that the conversation about Evelyn is over, for now. Tobias mutters an acknowledgment, his eyes burning with resentment as he glances at me. I meet his gaze with a cold smile, letting him see the unwavering certainty in my eyes.
He looks away first.
Chapter 26
Evelyn
I’ve never been in Lucian’s office before, but it’s exactly as I imagined it would be—spacious, immaculate, and pretentious as hell. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the city, and the walls are lined with shelves filled with leather-bound books and awards. His desk is a sleek, modern piece of furniture, free of clutter except for a single framed photograph. It’s a candid shot of me, taken years ago at the Blackwood Gala. I look radiant, my eyes sparkling with laughter, completely unaware of the camera.
I pick up the frame. “You kept this?”
Lucian steps closer, his hand brushing against mine as he takes the photograph from me. “It’s my favorite.”
I turn to find him leaning against the sofa, his arms crossed. He’s shed his suit jacket, the crisp white shirt emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders. In front of him, at the low glass coffeetable, sit two plates laden with food from the little trattoria down the street from my studio apartment. The place I’d mentioned offhand months ago, praising their truffle pasta.
“You remembered,” I say, sitting down next to him.
He pushes a plate towards me. “I remember everything about you.”
“That’s a lot.”
“Is it?” He watches me take the first bite. “I heard it should be reassuring. To know someone pays attention.”
“There’s paying attention, Lucian, and then there’s… this.” I gesture vaguely around the opulent office, encompassing the remembered lunch, the photo on his desk, and the espresso machine programmed just for me. “It’s a lot.”
“You deserve a lot.” He takes a bite of his pasta. “You deserve everything.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes, the clink of silverware the only sound besides the distant city hum. The food is exquisite, but I barely taste it, my mind racing. He remembered this place, this specific dish, from a casual remark months ago. He’d kept that photo, hidden away, for years. He’d curated my arrival at the penthouse down to the brand of soap.
It’s meticulous.
It’s overwhelming.
