Page 208 of Boss of the Year
“I always hated it,” he went on. “It was never mine to begin with, just something that felt like a cage the older I got. Then you came along, and it was like someone gave me the key to the lock.” He looked around us, at my beautiful chateau, as if he still couldn’t believe he found himself here. “When you left, I realized that the company had cost me everything I’d ever cared about. So, for the first time in my life, I gave myself a choice about what I wanted. And what I want is to be here in this beautiful place you’ve created. I want to help you thrive, raise our child,and worship the woman I love. I’ll sweep your floors, and make your bed, and do whatever it takes to make you happy. That’s all I want. It’s all I’ll ever need.”
The packages in my arms felt impossibly heavy, and I might have dropped them if Lucas hadn’t reached out to take them, set them on an outdoor table, then returned to take me by the arms and make me listen.
“Lucas—” I stuttered. “I don’t understand. How?—”
“I know I stole your first kiss,” he continued. “And maybe your first time too, although frankly, I consider that one a gift. But you stole a first of mine too, sweet girl. You stole my first love and took her to France. I was always going to get her back.”
The world seemed to tilt around me. In all my fantasies about this moment, about Lucas coming to find me, I’d never imagined this. Never dared to hope for this.
“Your firstlove?” I repeated, barely above a whisper.
“My only love.” His voice cracked again. “I’m forty-one years old, and it took me this long to realize that I’ve never loved anyone until I met you.”
I couldn’t breathe. All this time, I’d thought I was just another woman to him. Another complication in his carefully ordered life. But if he was telling the truth…
“This place you’ve created…” Lucas looked around the rose-covered walls of the chateau, boxes planted with winter herbs, and the hand-painted sign that I’d lovingly restored.
Songe du Soir, indeed.
This was a dream, not a fantasy. I was living it, right now.
“It’s a proper home, a real life. Something that matters more than profit margins and market share.” His voice broke completely then, and fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. “I’ll do anything, sweetheart. Anything for one more chance to be right for you. To be a good man for our child.”
Tears of my own were falling now as I looked at him—this man who had walked away from everything he’d ever known.
Given up his empire for me.
For us.
“There’s a broom inside,” I said softly.
He looked up. “Is there?”
I bit back a smile. “And the floor needs sweeping.”
The storm clouds in his eyes cleared as the curve of a smile appeared. “Do they now?”
I nodded, feeling shy. Why now? I wasn’t that girl who lived in the shadows anymore, too afraid to speak, dream, or look in the mirror for fear of what she might see.
And Lucas had seen all of me, even when I hadn’t seen myself. He’d ripped me apart and put me back together. I had no doubt he would do it again in a thousand other ways in the years to come.
The morning sun climbed higher, warming the air and turning the frost on the windowsills into tiny diamonds. Inside, I could hear Nonna humming as she walked down the stairs, and a few minutes later, the familiar rumble of the espresso machine called us through the doors.
This was my home. My sanctuary. The place I’d built when I thought I had nothing. The place where I’d proven to myself how strong I could be.
And now Lucas was here, asking to be part of it.
I led him through the front door, where the broom indeed waited in the corner by the fireplace. Lucas picked it up, studying it like he’d never seen one before.
“I should probably warn you,” he said with a self-deprecating smile that transformed his entire face. “I’ve never actually swept a floor. But I’ll give it my best shot.”
I watched as he started moving it around in an odd, ineffectual, completely endearing manner.
“Stop.” I laughed. “Oh my God, I will ask you for literally anything else. You’re doing it all wrong. You have to sweep the—oh!”
The words were cut off as he swept me off my feet and into his arms, sending the broom to the floor with a smack against the tile.
Chuckling, he nuzzled into my neck as he murmured, “Hush, my sweet Marie. I’m sure we can find other things I’m good at.”
