Chapter forty-eight
Luc
What the fuck
is this?
M y phone vibrates on the nightstand next to me. I glance down at Rylee. Her curls are a tangled mess, her legs draped over mine, and one of her hands is tucked into my boxers. She either wants to sleep with me inside her or with her hand wrapped around my dick.
The phone rings again, louder this time, and I exhale sharply, carefully untangling myself. She stirs, her soft sigh brushing against my chest, but she doesn’t wake. The sight of her peaceful face tugs at something in me. Sliding off the bed, I quietly slide the door open and step into the living area, closing it softly behind me.
“Yes, Nancy,” I say sharply. “That’s the fourth time you’ve called me during my honeymoon. It better be important.”
“It is, sir.”
The seriousness in her tone sends a chill through me. My mind starts spinning—my dad? My sister? But my mom would have called if something happened to them, not my assistant. Unless something happened to her, too.
“Check your phone,” Nancy says, cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “I sent you a link.”
I pull the phone from my ear, the glow of the screen cutting through the dim room. My thumb hovers over the link, dread pooling in my stomach. When the image finally loads, my entire body locks.
“What the fuck is this?” I growl, my grip tightening around the phone as I press it back to my ear.
“The board wants to schedule a meeting,” she explains quickly. “They’re demanding you come back to Paris today.”
My free hand curls into a fist at my side. “Set everything up,” I say through gritted teeth. “We’ll leave by noon.”
I end the call, cursing under my breath as I shove the phone into my pocket. Turning back toward the suite, I freeze. Rylee is standing there, her eyes wide, locking into mine.
“What the hell is this?” I close the distance between us, shoving the phone in front of her face. A picture of her at the bar, some guy’s hand dangerously close to her waist. There’s another photo of them leaving together.
“Luc, how did you get that?” Her face pales, the blood draining as she stares at the photos.
“Did you sleep with him?” My chest tumbles, and I can barely contain the heat simmering underneath.
She shakes her head. “No, I didn’t.”
I don’t move. I don’t blink. “Then why the hell does it look like you went home with him?”
“I was a little drunk and he called me a cab, but nothing happened.”
I breathe hard through my nose, but the jealousy is a wildfire in my chest, scorching every rational thought. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?” I take another step toward her, my chest rising and falling with each step until her back hits the closet door.
Her eyes flash, defensive now. “That’s the truth whether you believe it or not. Not that I owed you an explanation. We hadn’t agreed to anything yet.”
That does it.
“Damn it, Rylee!” My hand slams above her head, and she flinches. The aches in my chest deepen as I look at her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Do you think I’m mad because I thought you broke our arrangement?” My body crowds her against the door. Part of me is angry at her and the other part just wants to kiss her, to drown out the anger burning in my veins. “I’m fucking feral because you let another man touch you, even for a second.”
Her breath stutters, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Someone took a picture of you that night. Probably my brother.”
“What?”
I run a hand through my hair. “He’s trying to prove to the board that our marriage isn’t real. And now? They’ve scheduled a meeting for later today.”
Her lips tremble, and tears wells in her eyes as she chokes out. “Luc, I’m sorry.” But I can’t process her apology, not over the pounding in my chest and the fire crawling under my skin.
It’s not just this, it’s everything. Knowing she was in New York, sleeping around like I didn’t matter. I knew about it. But this? It’s too much. Her still not seeing how much she means to me after everything.
“Pack your stuff. We’re heading back to Paris.” I turn on my heel and storm out of the room, my chest heaving as I step into the hallway. I need air. I need space. I need something to stop me from losing control.
I step into my office, the tension coiling tight in my chest as I dial Alain’s number. My hand grips the phone harder than necessary, my knuckles straining.
He answers before the first ring finishes.
“I’m guessing you’ve heard the news.”
“I have.” His voice is cautious, almost hesitant. “And I’m sorry about Rylee.”
I lean against the edge of my desk, my free hand dragging through my hair, tugging harder than I mean to. “I need to find out what he knows. How the hell did he even find out about her? The only people who knew were you and the person I had keeping tabs on her back in New York.”
“He probably assumed it was an arrangement to meet the board’s requirements,” Alain replies. “And he’s going to try to use that to his advantage.”
“Of course, he is,” I snap, raking a hand through my hair. My reflection in the window stares back at me, jaw tight, eyes dark with frustration. “But that’s where he’s wrong. This wedding might have been an arrangement for Rylee,” I say coldly. “But it had nothing to do with me keeping my role as CEO.” I pause, the truth tightening my chest. “This was never an arrangement to me.”
Alain chuckles softly, the sound lacking humor. “But it did help, didn’t it? Letting the board think you were meeting their requirements while you dismantled their power. Piece by piece.”
I let out a slow breath, trying to steady myself. “Did you get the last board member’s shares?” I ask, cutting to the point.
“Not yet.”
I exhale sharply through my nose. “I need this done by this evening. Offer him twenty times the value, if you have to. Whatever it takes, Alain. Can you get it done?”
“I got it.”
“Good. I’ll see you later in the meeting.”
I end the call and toss the phone onto the desk, leaning forward with my palms pressed against the smooth wood. My head drops slightly, the anger pulsing through me like a living thing. For a few minutes, I stay like that, letting the tension claw its way through me.
Finally, I push away from the desk and head back upstairs. When I open the door to the suite, the familiar scent of vanilla greets me first. Rylee is sitting on the couch, her posture stiff, her hands resting lightly on her lap. Both suitcases are lined up neatly by the door.
“You packed my clothes?”
“Yeah,” she says, not looking at me. Her fingers twist together before she adds, “I put a blue suit out for you on the bed. But if you prefer another one, let me know which one. I’ll grab it for you.”
“Thank you,” I say after a beat. “Blue is fine.”
She nods but doesn’t look up. I stand there just watching her before stepping closer and taking a seat beside her. The silence between us is heavy, but I let it sit, letting my anger simmer down.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I say finally. “You’re right—you didn’t owe me anything.”
Her fingers still, and she glances at me briefly before looking away again. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.” Her voice is so small and vulnerable it tightens a knot in my chest.
I want to tell her everything. Why I got so angry, what’s really going on. But now doesn’t feel like the right time. “I’m going to take a shower.” I stand. “Then we’ll go. We can talk later, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers.
I turn to walk away, but something pulls me back. Without thinking, I lean down and press a soft kiss to the top of her head. She freezes, her breath catching, and so does mine.
Then I straighten, my hand lingering briefly at my side before I disappear into the bathroom.