Chapter 43
RAPHAEL
Isat there, watching her. Waiting.
For the first time in longer than I cared to admit, I had no strategy left. No additional move to make. No lever to pull.
Everything was on the table. Literally.
The paperwork sat between us, proof of what I had done, what I was willing to give, what I was trying—perhaps clumsily—to correct.
It had to be enough. It had to be. Because I did not know what I would do if it wasn’t.
I could dismantle companies.
I could restructure entire industries.
I could not lose her.
She turned another page.
Her face remained unreadable.
An unfamiliar sensation pressed in on my chest. Helplessness. I did not like it.
I leaned forward slightly, unable to remain silent any longer.
“Belle, please.” My voice was lower than I intended. “I will give you anything you want. Just stay with me.”
The words felt inadequate the moment they left me. Too transactional. Too close to the very thing she had pushed back against. But they were honest.
“Please.”
She stilled.
Then, slowly, she looked up at me. And something in her expression cracked.
“You would give me my own company,” she said quietly.
I shook my head. “No.” I stepped closer, unable to stay behind the desk any longer. “Ma belle,” I said softly, “I would give you everything.”
The truth settled between us, undeniable.
“Because without you,” I continued, my voice tightening despite my control, “it is all meaningless.”
That was the part I had not said before. The part I had not allowed myself to fully acknowledge. “I love you,” I said. “And I refuse to lose someone I love again.”
Silence followed.
Then she moved.
She didn’t say anything.
She walked around the desk, closing the distance between us without hesitation.
Her fingers slipped into my hair, grounding, steadying.
And then she kissed me.
Everything in me went still.
“I love you too,” she murmured against my mouth.
Relief crashed through me so completely that it almost felt like weakness. I pulled her into me, lifting her easily onto my lap, holding her like I needed to confirm she was real.
That she was staying.
“That settles it,” I said, voice quieter now but steadier. “You are staying.”
She nodded. And kissed me again. It was soft and certain. It was a choice.
“This is crazy,” she whispered.
A faint smile touched my mouth.
“No,” I replied. “This is the only thing that makes sense.”
She laughed softly, the sound easing something deep in my chest.
I brushed my thumb along her jaw, studying her for a moment before continuing.
“Speaking of things that should make sense,” I said carefully, “this is entirely your decision—”
She tilted her head slightly.
“I was wondering if you might consider having your father stay here.”
She stilled.
“We can hire full-time care,” I continued. “A nurse. Support staff. Whatever is required. He would remain close to you. Safe.”
I held her gaze.
“But if you believe assisted living is the better environment, then we maintain that. This is not a directive.”
It wasn’t. Not this time. “This is your call.”
She didn’t respond with words.
Instead, she kissed me again.
That felt like an answer.