Chapter twelve
Luc
What is it about this woman?
I t’s been fifteen months since I last saw her, and she’s still imprinted in my mind, impossible to forget. Seeing her today felt like something out of a dream—tall, beautiful, and confident in that pink suit.
This was a stupid idea. Did I buy the company to help? Yes. Were we thinking about expanding to the US soon? Probably in a year or so. But it’s pathetic to admit that I bought the company because I wanted to see her again.
It took everything in me not to close the space between us or kiss her. But for one, she probably wouldn’t kiss me back. And for all I know, she might have a boyfriend now. I could have any woman I want, yet no one has ever affected me like this. She’s a current that refuses to let go.
I have a week to convince her to stay—before I tell her why she’s here.
My feet move toward the glass wall facing her office. She’s sitting at her desk, head tilted slightly, eyes on her phone. Her expression softens in a way I remember all too well. There’s something there, a layer beneath the sunshine. Last time, she allowed me a tiny glimpse of it, and I want more.
Her eyes shift, lifting to the glass as if she feels my presence. Of course, she can’t see me—not through the tinted glass—but my pulse races as if she’s staring right back, bridging the space between us. She rubs her hands along her arms, her fingers tracing over her sleeves as if brushing away a chill.
I stand frozen, unable to look away, afraid I’ll break the invisible thread between us.
What is it about this woman?
A knock at the door snaps me out of the spell she cast over me. I step back, turning toward my desk. “Come in.”
The door swings open, and Leon steps in. “You wanted to see me?”
I tilt my head toward the chair across from me, gesturing for him to sit.
Leon is one of our interns, and I’ve been wanting him; he’s been a natural with the marketing team, quick to adapt and eager to learn.
“Yes, I’m looking for an assistant for our new Head of International Marketing.” I hope she’ll be staying. “Would you be interested? You’d assist her with anything she needs and learn a lot from her. She’s extremely talented.”
That’s not an exaggeration. I did my research, and Rylee gave her last company everything she had to try to keep it afloat.
“Oh my God, for real?” Leon’s eyes go wide, his grin spreading instantly. “Yes, of course! I like her—and her vibes.” He squeals with excitement. “Anyone who can rock a pink suit like that? Total icon.”
I chuckle. His enthusiasm is exactly what Rylee needs—something to make her feel at home. Leon’s perfect for the role, and they have a similar energy. Besides, I won’t have to worry about him falling for her, at least not in a romantic way. I can already tell he’s smitten.
“Good,” I say, nodding. “I think you two will work well together.”
“This is going to be a dream team,” he says, grinning ear to ear.
“That’s nice. I want her to feel welcome.”
“What if—” Leon starts, and I groan, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Just hear me out,” he says with a grin.
My father wouldn’t approve of half the things I allow around here. When he was CEO, he was strict; people were too nervous to approach him. But I don’t believe in intimidation. I’d rather lead with mutual respect.
Leon raises an eyebrow. “What if we throw her a small welcome party?”
“Leon, we’re not throwing a party.” I shift in my chair, feeling the urge to move on to the next topic. My mind spirals to my endless mental list—things I need to approve, decisions I haven’t made yet, the expansion, the board ultimatum.
“Okay, not a party. Just a small get-together. That would make her feel welcome.” He’s grinning wider, throwing my own words back at me.
I sigh, mentally kicking myself. “Fine. Something small, and it has to be two weeks from now.” I say it almost automatically, a date that sounds safe enough.
But as soon as the words are out, my thoughts spiral. What if she says no? If she leaves, this so-called “welcome” would turn into a going-away party. It would ruin everything, and I’d have to explain. She’d walk away and leave me…
I look up to find Leon still staring at me, waiting for a reaction, and I snap back. “Two weeks. Got it?”
He nods, satisfied, as if he’s already mentally planning the details. Meanwhile, my mind’s still spinning, worry mixed with excitement.
I’m winging it here. I don’t know if she’ll still be here in two weeks. But somehow, I have a feeling she will. She has to.
Leon excuses himself, and before I fully register what I’m doing, my feet lead me to her office. I knock softly, watching as she startles, quickly wiping at what looks suspiciously like tears before giving me a bright, forced smile. In a split second, I’m inside, stepping forward to spin her chair around to face me.
“Don’t you fucking do that,” I say in French.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
I switch to English, so there’s no mistaking my words. “Don’t smile at me when you don’t mean it. Don’t pretend you’re okay if you’re not. Not with me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She pushes off her chair and turns her back to me.
Fine, if she wants to keep her distance, I’ll give her time. But not too much. I don’t know what I did wrong last time, but there’ll be time to fix that once I convince her to stay. I want that Rylee—the one from that night, the one who didn’t hide herself from me.
I push off the floor and stand. “I came here to tell you to have dinner with me tonight,” I say, more firmly than intended. “I’ll go over my vision for the expansion. You should know the full plan before you make your decision.” I pause, letting my words settle, and her shoulders tense. “Bertrand will pick you up at 7 p.m.”
Without waiting for a response, I turn to leave, but not before catching her saying something in Spanish.
“?Quién se cree que es, que voy a saltar cuando diga? (Who does he think he is, that I’ll jump when he says so?)”
Thanks to Alain, I know enough Spanish to understand what she said.
I hold back a smile, not turning around.
She’ll be there.
She has to be.
I’m disrupting my entire schedule for this, something I rarely do. My days are planned out weeks in advance; calls, meetings, deals—everything is mapped out with precision. But with her, I move without thinking. I act on impulses. She’s the exception to every rule I’ve made for myself, and that should bother me.
It doesn’t.