27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
No Permission Needed
Simone
The last person I expect to find in Dad’s study is Adrien.
He lounges in one of the leather chairs in front of the mahogany desk with a crystal glass of wine balanced between his fingers.
His gold dinner jacket lies over the armrest. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, and his blond hair has fallen into loose waves around his face.
He looks entirely too relaxed for a man who has apparently detonated a bomb inside my father’s carefully constructed plans.
Dad sits across from him.
The rigid line of his shoulders and the muscle jumping along his jaw tell me everything I need to know about their conversation.
Adrien sees me first.
“Perfect timing.”
He rises and drains the rest of his wine.
“I was running out of ways to explain that I have never wanted to marry you.”
Dad’s expression tightens further.
“You could try being less enthusiastic about that,” I say.
“No offense intended.”
Adrien kisses my cheek.
“You’re beautiful, talented, and far too much work.”
“That’s fair.”
His eyes move toward Luca, who stands beside me.
Then Adrien’s mouth curls into a knowing smile.
“Bodyguard.”
“Belcourt.”
The warning in Luca’s voice only seems to delight him.
Adrien leans close to my ear.
“I told him everything.”
I glance toward Dad.
“Everything?”
“Everything relevant.”
Adrien’s playfulness fades slightly.
“The fake relationship. The engagement. Why I agreed to the arrangement.”
My attention returns to him.
“You didn’t have to tell him about—”
“I did.”
His voice is quiet but certain.
“It was time.”
“Your family?”
“They’re next.”
I reach for his hand.
“I’ll come with you.”
Adrien squeezes my fingers before releasing them.
“No.”
“Adrien.”
“I love you for offering.”
He glances toward Dad.
“But this is something I need to do myself.”
Concern knots inside me.
His parents helped create tonight’s announcement. Whatever they know—or suspect—they clearly still expect Adrien to preserve the family image.
“You can call me.”
“I will.”
“Any time.”
“I know.”
He looks toward Luca again.
“Besides, you came down here holding hands with the human equivalent of a loaded weapon. I assume you have your own unpleasant family conversation to finish.”
Luca’s expression remains flat.
Adrien grins.
“I’m beginning to understand the appeal.”
“You should leave now,” Luca tells him.
“Jealousy is very flattering on you.”
“Adrien.”
“All right.”
He lifts both hands.
Then he leans toward me once more.
“For the record, if this becomes another engagement announcement, I’m moving to Europe.”
“That makes two of us.”
Adrien retrieves his jacket.
At the door, he stops and looks back at Dad.
“I’m sorry the truth is inconvenient.”
Dad says nothing.
Adrien’s chin lifts.
“But I’m not sorry it’s true.”
Then he leaves.
Pride swells inside my chest.
For the first time since meeting him, Adrien isn’t using humor to hide.
He chose himself.
Now Luca and I have to do the same.
The study door closes.
Dad’s attention drops to our joined hands.
His reading glasses rest on the desk beside the pen I gave him for his fifty-ninth birthday. Several folders have been pushed aside, and an untouched glass of bourbon sits near his right hand.
He looks tired.
Not defeated.
Francis Rochefort doesn’t understand defeat.
But something about tonight has shaken him.
The engagement.
Adrien’s confession.
My refusal.
Luca’s resignation.
Dad built his life around anticipating every move.
Tonight, everyone keeps making choices without him.
“Simone.”
He says my name slowly.
“You came back.”
“Yes.”
“I assumed you wanted to finish our conversation.”
“We do.”
His gaze moves toward Luca.
“I had hoped the time upstairs might encourage rational thought.”
“It did,” I say.
Dad raises one eyebrow.
“The engagement is still off.”
His mouth hardens.
“I’m aware.”
“And Luca’s resignation still stands.”
“I wasn’t asking you.”
“No, but you keep pretending our decisions are temporary emotional reactions.”
“I think both of you have endured significant trauma.”
“We did.”
“That can affect judgment.”
I release Luca’s hand and walk toward the desk.
“You’re still doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Speaking as though the only decisions I make freely are the ones you approve.”
Dad removes his glasses and folds them carefully.
“I am trying to understand how my daughter went from publicly dating Adrien Belcourt to declaring her love for the man assigned to protect her.”
“I was never dating Adrien.”
“You deceived me.”
“I created the arrangement because you refused to stop arranging dates for me.”
“You could have said no.”
“I did.”
My laugh contains no humor.
“Repeatedly.”
Dad’s fingers tighten around the glasses.
“And your solution was to lie.”
“My solution was to make you stop.”
“You embarrassed both families.”
“You announced an engagement without speaking to either person involved.”
His jaw flexes.
“We’ve established that was a mistake.”
It may be the closest Francis Rochefort has ever come to admitting fault.
I don’t let him escape that easily.
“It wasn’t only a mistake.”
I place both hands against the edge of his desk.
“It was proof that you don’t see my choices as real until they become inconvenient for you.”
“That isn’t true.”
“You told me what I wanted was irrelevant.”
“I said what you needed mattered more.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m your father.”
“And I’m twenty-three.”
The room goes quiet.
“I survived the bullet, the crash, and that island.”
My voice softens without weakening.
“I’m not asking you to stop caring about me. I’m asking you to respect that protecting me does not mean controlling me.”
Dad looks beyond me toward Luca.
“Did you know her relationship with Adrien was fabricated?”
“Yes,” Luca answers.
No hesitation.
Dad’s expression cools.
“For how long?”
“Long enough.”
“I hired you to protect my daughter and report anything that placed her at risk.”
“Adrien didn’t place her at risk.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make.”
“It was my professional assessment.”
Dad rises from his chair.
“You knew information directly affecting this family and deliberately withheld it.”
Luca’s posture doesn’t change.
“I wasn’t hired to spy on her.”
“You were assigned to observe her.”
“For security threats.”
“And report to me.”
“About security.”
Dad steps around the desk.
“Don’t hide behind semantics.”
“I’m not.”
Luca’s voice remains calm.
“Simone’s private life was never mine to disclose.”
“She was your principal.”
“She was an adult.”
“I trusted you.”
“To keep her alive.”
Luca’s gaze hardens.
“I did.”
The room seems to shrink around them.
Dad stops several feet from Luca.
“You allowed me to proceed with negotiations that could never succeed.”
“I didn’t know about your negotiations.”
“You knew the relationship was false.”
“And I knew the truth belonged to Adrien and Simone.”
Luca takes one measured step forward.
“Not to me.”
Dad’s mouth becomes a thin line.
“I gave you a position. Training. Access to this family.”
“And I’m grateful.”
“You have an unusual way of demonstrating it.”
Luca’s hand moves toward mine.
His fingers close around it.
“I won’t demonstrate gratitude by betraying Simone’s confidence.”
Dad’s eyes drop to our hands again.
“You were supposed to maintain professional boundaries.”
“I did.”
I almost choke.
Dad notices.
“So nothing happened before the crash?”
Luca’s jaw tightens.
He doesn’t look at me.
“No.”
Technically true.
Depending on whether we count making me come on his thigh in a parked car as nothing.
Probably best not to introduce that detail.
Dad studies him.
“And on the island?”
“That is none of your business,” I say.
Dad’s head snaps toward me.
“You were dependent on him.”
“I was capable of consent.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It’s what you keep implying.”
Anger flashes in Luca’s face.
I tighten my grip on his hand before he speaks.
“I wasn’t confused.”
My voice stays level.
“I wasn’t intoxicated. I wasn’t pressured.”
Dad’s expression becomes pained.
“I do not need details.”
“Good. You aren’t getting them.”
Bran would probably set fire to the estate if he heard this conversation.
Dad turns away and walks toward the windows.
The ballroom glows beyond the glass. Guests still fill the garden and terrace, drinking and celebrating while our family dismantles itself behind closed doors.
“You said you have loved him since you were eighteen.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
The question catches me off guard.
Not because it’s difficult.
Because for the first time tonight, Dad sounds less controlling than hurt.
“You weren’t someone I could tell.”
His shoulders become still.
“You could have told me anything.”
“No.”
I release Luca’s hand and move closer to Dad.
“I could tell you things as long as you believed you could fix them.”
He turns.
“But loving Luca wasn’t a problem I wanted fixed.”
Dad’s gaze shifts toward him.
“You rejected her.”
It isn’t a question.
Luca answers anyway.
“Yes.”
“Twice,” I add.
His eyes narrow toward me.
“That detail wasn’t necessary.”
“It remains upsetting.”
Dad looks between us.
“Why?”
Luca’s expression changes.
The answer requires more honesty than anger.
“Because she was eighteen the first time.”
His voice is quiet.
“She was Bran’s sister. Your daughter.”
“And the second?”
“Because I was still afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
Dad absorbs the answer without reacting.
“Of Bran,” Luca continues. “Of losing the only family I believed I had left.”
His fingers curl once at his side.
“And because I didn’t believe I belonged in her world.”
Dad’s attention sharpens.
“You were raised beside my children.”
“No.”
The single word lands heavily.
“I spent time here.”
Luca looks around the study.
“I was welcomed. Fed. Trained. Employed.”
His gaze returns to Dad.
“But I always knew why my family was connected to yours.”
“Your father was my friend.”
“He was also your employee.”
Dad flinches.
Luca continues.
“After he died, I became both.”
“That was your choice.”
“It was the only choice I understood.”
His voice remains respectful.
But the boy who accepted everything Francis offered is gone.
“You gave my family stability after my father died. I will always appreciate that.”
Luca reaches for my hand again.
“But I never asked you to choose the rest of my life.”
Dad’s eyes move toward me.
“And now you have?”
“Yes.”
Luca’s fingers interlock with mine.
“I love her.”
“You told me that this morning.”
“It’s still true.”
“She is impulsive.”
“I know.”
I glare at him.
His thumb brushes my knuckles.
“She’s stubborn,” he continues.
“Careful.”
“Demanding.”
“Luca.”
“Brilliant.”
The irritation leaves me.
“Brave. Loyal. More vulnerable than she allows anyone to see.”
His eyes find mine.
“And she is the only woman I have ever loved.”
My throat tightens.
Dad watches us.
For several seconds, none of us speaks.
Then he says, “You believe love is enough.”
“No,” Luca answers.
Surprise crosses Dad’s face.
“Love is the reason we try.”
Luca’s grip on my hand strengthens.
“It doesn’t guarantee this will be easy.”
“So what happens when it becomes difficult?”
“We deal with it.”
“And if the attention damages her career?”
“That’s my decision,” I say.
Dad ignores me.
“If the threats continue?”
“I protect her.”
The answer comes automatically.
Dad’s eyebrow rises.
“You resigned.”
Luca doesn’t hesitate.
“I’ll protect her because I love her, not because you pay me.”
My chest aches.
Dad looks toward the resignation letter lying among the folders.
“You said you want a life outside this family.”
“I want a life that belongs to me.”
“And she’s part of it?”
“If she wants to be.”
Luca looks at me.
I smile.
“She does.”
Dad exhales and presses two fingers against the bridge of his nose.
“I asked you to speak with her because I believed she trusted you.”
“She does.”
“I expected you to make her understand.”
“She understands perfectly.”
Dad lowers his hand.
“You encouraged this.”
“No.”
Luca’s voice becomes firmer.
“She chose me. I chose her.”
His gaze never leaves Dad’s.
“I don’t own her. I don’t ‘have’ her. And neither do you.”
Silence strikes the room.
The words are dangerous.
Necessary.
Dad’s face becomes unreadable.
I step beside Luca.
“We didn’t come here for your blessing.”
Dad’s eyes return to me.
“We came because you deserved the truth.”
“And if I tell you I don’t approve?”
“I’ll be disappointed.”
I squeeze Luca’s hand.
“But it won’t change anything.”
“You would risk your relationship with me for him?”
My heart contracts.
“This isn’t me choosing whether to love you or Luca.”
“You’re making it sound that way.”
“No. You are.”
I move closer to the desk.
“You’re my father. I love you.”
My voice catches despite my determination.
“But loving you doesn’t mean surrendering every other part of my life.”
Dad looks older tonight.
Not weak.
Human.
“You nearly died,” he says.
“I know.”
“I thought I lost you.”
The confession comes quietly.
My anger loosens.
“I know that too.”
“I can’t protect you if you keep shutting me out.”
“You can’t protect me by building a cage.”
He looks down.
For once, he has no immediate response.
I walk around the desk and touch his uninjured arm.
“I’m still here.”
His eyes meet mine.
“I still need you to be my father.”
My fingers tighten slightly.
“But I need you to let me be your daughter instead of another part of your legacy.”
Dad glances toward Luca.
Then back to me.
“I need time.”
It isn’t approval.
But it isn’t a command.
“I can give you time.”
I step away.
“I won’t give up Luca.”
“I understand.”
The words sound reluctant.
Still, he says them.
“We’ll leave you alone.”
Dad nods.
I turn toward the door with Luca beside me.
Before we reach it, Dad speaks.
“Luca.”
He stops.
“I have not accepted your resignation happily.”
“I know.”
“And I have not accepted this.”
Luca looks at our joined hands.
“I know that too.”
Dad’s gaze hardens.
“If you hurt her—”
“I won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No.”
Luca’s honesty surprises all of us.
“But I can promise I’ll never treat her pain as irrelevant.”
Dad studies him.
Then he nods once.
A fraction.
Barely there.
But real.
Luca opens the study door.
We step into the corridor.
And walk directly into Bran.
He stands several feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.
Cassie is nowhere in sight.
The expression on his face makes it clear he has been waiting.
His gaze drops to our joined hands.
Then rises to Luca.
“Your turn.”
Luca exhales.
“I assumed.”
Bran points toward the opposite end of the corridor.
“Outside.”
“Why?”
“So I don’t stain Dad’s carpet.”
“Bran,” I warn.
He looks at me.
“You stay here.”
I laugh.
“Absolutely not.”
“This is between me and him.”
“No.”
Luca lifts our joined hands and kisses my knuckles.
“It’s all right.”
“It is not all right.”
“I’ve known him most of my life.”
“That’s exactly why I’m concerned.”
Bran begins walking.
Luca releases my hand.
“I’ll be back.”
“You’d better be.”
He gives me the faintest smile.
Then he follows my brother down the corridor.
I remain outside Dad’s study, watching the two most important men in my life disappear toward the terrace.
One of them looks furious.
The other looks resigned to being punched.
Apparently, choosing love doesn’t end the conflict.
It only determines who stands beside you when it arrives.