Chapter 25 Twenty-Four
Silence fell across the dining table.
Xander recovered first, bracelets jangling as they leaned forward. "Plot twist! Dad retires; big brother takes the throne. Very dynastic of you."
"Is this because of Oklahoma?" Xion asked.
I shook my head. "Oklahoma accelerated the timeline, but this decision was made before Shaw decided to wage war with our technology."
I kept my eyes on Xavier, waiting for his response. He'd refused the position once before, when I lay in a hospital bed with tubes keeping me alive. Would he refuse again, or had the stakes shifted enough to change his mind?
Xavier set his wine glass down. A muscle tightened at the corner of his jaw, and his green eyes narrowed slightly as he weighed the offer. "You know I declined this offer once before."
"The board wasn't compromised then," I replied.
"True." He gave a slight nod, then straightened, shifting seamlessly into the authority I'd just offered him. "I accept with conditions."
Maxime's silverware clinked against his plate.
The sound was a microscopic tell no one else would notice, but I caught the momentary lapse in his perfect control.
His eyes met mine briefly across the table, dark pupils dilating despite his composed expression.
My body reacted instantly to that subtle sign of distress, muscles coiling with the instinct to claim, to possess, to reassure what belonged to me. I forced my attention back to Xavier.
"Name them," I said.
"Complete operational autonomy. No interference, regardless of how my decisions might differ from yours." Xavier paused between sentences, keeping his tone level. "Including the authority to redirect Lucky Losers away from conventional weapons development toward AI and cybersecurity."
I nodded once. "Granted."
"A reformed board of directors. Seven of the twelve current members are compromised, either through Shaw's influence or their own ambition."
"You have someone in mind for replacements?" I kept my tone neutral, though his preparation impressed me. He'd been analyzing our board weaknesses long before tonight.
"Several candidates. Industry specialists in cybersecurity, quantum computing.
People who understand where technology is actually headed.
" Xavier's fingers tapped once against the table in a restrained gesture that reminded me of Maxime.
"The narrative of the transition will be critical.
This wasn't a crisis-driven decision. This was a planned succession, with your oldest son already being groomed for leadership. "
Across the table, Leo adjusted his glasses and exchanged a glance with Xavier that suggested prior discussions.
"We'll create the necessary documentation to support this narrative," Xavier continued. "Board minutes showing my observer status at meetings. Strategic memos with my input dating back months. A gradual introduction to key Pentagon contacts. The markets respond to perception, not reality."
"Strategic," I acknowledged, filing the information away. "The Pentagon appreciates continuity narratives."
"Speaking of transition," Xavier said, and his gaze shifted to Maxime, who sat with perfect posture despite the seismic shift happening around him. "I propose a one-year arrangement for Mr. St. Germain."
Maxime's spine straightened slightly. "I serve at the pleasure of the CEO. If that's Xavier, then—"
"You misunderstand," Xavier interrupted, surprising me with his directness toward Maxime.
"Your institutional knowledge is invaluable.
I propose a twelve-month transition period during which you train your staff to perform your functions.
After that, you remain available as a consultant.
Same compensation, but freed from the twenty-four-seven obligation that has defined your role. "
Maxime's face revealed nothing as Xavier spoke, but his throat moved in a single swallow.
Years of service had just been redefined in a single dinner conversation.
The memory of his throat beneath my hand surfaced unbidden, along with the realization that the marks I'd left there had faded too quickly.
That was a problem to be solved later. He was mine, always mine, regardless of corporate structures.
"That's generous," Maxime replied.
"It's practical," Xavier corrected. "Your expertise doesn't vanish because of past complications between us."
Maxime nodded once and adjusted his tie.
"And what about your vigilante activities?" I asked directly. "How do they fit into the new Lucky Losers corporate structure?"
A charged silence descended over the table. Boone shifted in his seat, while Ash studied the rim of his wine glass.
"They don't," Xavier answered flatly. "The company remains clean of our extracurricular activities. That firewall stands absolute and non-negotiable."
"Noted." I took a sip of wine. The separation would protect our Pentagon contracts, contain corporate liability, and minimize criminal exposure. It was the perfect firewall between worlds. "Macau preparations?"
"On schedule," Xavier replied, allowing the subject to change. "Rendezvous at midnight at the private airfield. Two teams, as discussed."
"I'll be observing, not leading," I noted. "Consider it your first official operation as CEO-designate."
Xander raised their glass in a mock toast. "To the new boss, same as the old boss, but with better hair."
"And fewer bodies in his past," Xion added quietly. "So far."
"The night is young," Xavier replied through the ghost of a smile.
The conversation shifted as platters circulated around the table. Despite the weight of our discussion, the meal provided a necessary rhythm to the evening, transforming a strategy session into something resembling a family dinner.
Maxime had outdone himself with the food.
Wine glasses gleamed under the chandelier light, each selection paired flawlessly with each course.
The entire meal operated as a backdrop to the negotiation unfolding at my table, a testament to Maxime's ability to create order from chaos.
He'd done the same with Lucky Losers for years.
Boone leaned forward after his first bite. "My grandma would've loved this. She always said you can tell a lot about a man by how he treats food." His eyes met mine across the table. "She'd say a man who takes time with what feeds his family has priorities worth respecting."
My gaze lingered on Maxime's hands as he served dessert.
Those elegant fingers had signed billion-dollar contracts, arranged assassinations, and traced the scars on my body in darkness.
Now they moved among delicate dessert plates.
I pictured those same hands bound above his head, trembling as I claimed every inch of him. Soon.
"Xavier," I said, redirecting the conversation. "You mentioned board restructuring. Who stays? Who goes?"
"Two board members remain trustworthy," Xavier replied, his fingers tapping once against the tablecloth. "Five need replacement immediately."
"And the rest?" I asked.
"On probation," he answered coolly. "They'll be evaluated based on their responses to the transition."
Leo adjusted his glasses. "We've already drafted the SEC filings for the leadership change. The language positions this as the natural culmination of a long-planned succession strategy." He glanced at Xavier. “They’re ready to file at your direction.”
My eyebrows rose. "You moved pieces before I made my decision public."
"I calculated probabilities," Xavier replied without apology. "This outcome became inevitable the moment Shaw deployed the Banshee in Oklahoma."
Maxime refilled wine glasses. The dance of service appeared effortless, though I knew it came only through decades of calculation.
His sleeve rode up slightly as he leaned across the table, revealing the edge of a bruise I'd left on his wrist three nights ago.
The sight sent hunger lancing through me, sharp and sudden. Our eyes met briefly.
"Back to the Macau operation," Xavier said, accepting the wine from Maxime with a nod. "Once the operations are complete, we’ll need to take a hard look at security in the tower."
I frowned. “Commander Reid’s expertise—”
“Is not in question,” Xavier said. “But he’s been with the company for a long time. Comfortably. Maybe too comfortably.”
Maxime frowned. “You’re not seriously going to fire him?”
“No, of course not.” Xavier took a sip of his wine before putting the glass down. “But maybe it’s time for him to get back to protecting assets in the field rather than guarding board rooms. His expertise is too valuable to keep locked up in the tower.”
“Have you spoken to Reid about this?” I asked cautiously.
“Not yet,” Xavier confirmed. “I wanted your opinion first.”
I exchanged a look with Maxime.
Maxime cleared his throat. “Reid is forty-eight years old, Xavier,” he said carefully.
Xavier lifted an eyebrow. “You think that’s too old for field work?”
“Not exactly, no, but…”
“But Reid has more than earned the luxuries of the position afforded to him,” I finished. “He’s effective in either capacity, but I would caution you against making that change, Xavier. It might be seen as a demotion, regardless of any pay raise involved.”
Xavier considered the words with a nod. “Noted,” he said. “I’ll talk it over with Reid either way.”
The evening wound down with final preparations for tomorrow. Xavier and Leo gathered their tablets while Xander and Ash collected their coats. Xion and Boone were already waiting by the door, ready to depart.
"We'll see you at the airfield when you get back," Xavier said, shaking my hand firmly before they filed out.
The door closed behind them, leaving Maxime and me alone in a house that suddenly seemed too large, too quiet.
My hip ached from sitting too long at the table, but I ignored it as I stood at the doorway with my cane resting against the frame.
Maxime moved through the kitchen like a dancer, each motion exact as he restored order after the chaos of dinner.
His suit remained perfect despite hours of service, his posture flawless even alone.
The idea of him returning home suddenly struck me as absurd, inefficient, and a security risk.
He'd survived an assassination attempt by Shaw just days ago.
He'd been drugged and nearly abducted. The next attempt might succeed if he remained in that minimalist fortress with its single point of entry, limited escape routes, and distance from my security team.
His presence here, under my roof and under my protection, represented both desire and tactical necessity.
The thought of Maxime in a separate residence, in a separate bed, turned my stomach.
For years, we'd lived adjacent lives, connected through work but divided by walls and streets and the pretense of professional distance.
Now that I'd finally claimed him and tasted what we could be together, that separation had become intolerable.
What was the point of stepping down and letting Xavier take the reins if not to finally have who and what I wanted?
Maxime bent to retrieve a fallen napkin, the fabric of his pants pulling tight across his ass. He was mine. My property to protect. My asset to secure. My territory to defend. My future to claim.
Shaw had already infiltrated Lucky Losers. How many of Maxime's building staff had been compromised? How many surveillance devices had been planted in his pristine rooms? The thought of unknown eyes watching him sent a wave of possessive rage through me that nearly snapped my cane in half.
"Pack your things tomorrow," I said without preamble.
His hands stilled on the crystal wine glass. "What?"
"Your mansion is a security vulnerability." I pushed off from the doorframe and crossed the room, ignoring the protest from my rebuilt hip. "You're moving in here. Permanently."
I took the glass from his hands and set it aside. My fingers brushed his deliberately, and the brief contact crackled between us.
His eyes met mine. "Algerone—"
I gripped his jaw and tilted his face up to mine. His skin burned against my palm. "I want you in my bed every night. I want to wake up with you beside me. I want you there when I fall asleep. I've had enough of pretending we live separate lives. I've had enough of walls between us. No more."
His lips parted slightly, and his eyes widened. "Yes," he whispered, and that single syllable contained years of waiting.
I pulled him against me, one hand sliding to the marks I'd left on his throat days ago, now faded to shadows. His body went pliant against mine, surrendering with a shudder that telegraphed his need more eloquently than any words could have.
"Shaw comes first," I said, keeping my grip tight on his throat, just enough to make his eyelids flutter. "But when we return from Macau, you're mine completely. No more separate beds. No more nights apart. Not ever again."