Chapter Twenty-Five Cole
I ’m not a man who celebrates. Celebrations invite chaos, mess, sentiment. But tonight I want to give her something different than our usual perfect dinners.
Earlier, I’d insisted Sloane take a long bubble bath to unwind from her day at the studio. “Take your time getting ready for dinner,” I’d told her, kissing her neck. “I have some work calls to handle.” The lie came easily—I needed those two hours.
Now I check my watch while directing the last of the decorating crew.
They’re efficient, I’ll give them that—in just under two hours they’ve transformed the dining room exactly as I’d specified.
Crystal strands catch the light from thousands of tiny LED bulbs we’ve strung across the ceiling.
The effect reminds me of ice forming on tree branches after a storm.
White flowers cover every surface—lilies, roses, orchids—arranged in crystal vases that echo the pieces in Sloane’s collection.
“The temperature control is set,” my head of household staff confirms. “The flowers will stay fresh all evening.” She hands me the remote for the lighting system. “Will you need anything else, Mr. Asher?”
I’m about to dismiss her when I hear Sloane’s bedroom door open. “That’s all. Thank you.” The staff file out quietly through the service entrance as I turn toward the main hallway.
The sight of her stops me mid-motion. She’s wearing a white dress that seems to float around her, but it’s the collar that draws my attention—her newest creation sitting perfectly against her throat. The crystals catch the light as she moves, creating small flashes of brilliance against her skin.
Her steps falter when she sees the dining room. For a moment she just stands there, taking it all in—the lights, the flowers, the way everything sparkles. Then her face breaks into a smile that makes my chest tight.
“Cole...” She walks slowly into the room, reaching up to touch one of the crystal strands. “This is incredible.”
“I wanted it to complement your collection.” I move behind her, running my fingers along the collar. “Though this piece outshines everything else.”
She leans back against me, and I can feel her pulse quicken under the collar. “I still can’t believe you did all this.” Her fingers trail over the tablecloth where I’ve had dinner set up—fine China, crystal glasses, silver that catches the light from above.
“Dinner should be perfect—the chef’s preparing everything fresh.
” I guide her to her chair, pulling it out for her.
The sommelier I hired for the evening steps forward to pour the first wine, a rare vintage I’ve been saving.
I watch Sloane’s face as she takes her first sip, the way her eyes close briefly in appreciation.
The first course arrives—a delicate creation of winter vegetables and fresh truffle that looks like frost patterns on glass. It’s theatrical without being pretentious, exactly what I’d specified. Sloane takes a bite and makes a small sound of pleasure that sends heat down my spine.
“Tell me about your day,” I say, partly because I want to know and partly because I love watching her talk when she’s excited about something. The collar shifts with each animated gesture, drawing my attention back to her throat.
“Well, Chloe nearly gave Knox an aneurysm,” she says, taking another sip of wine. “She kept trying to convince him to give her a full tour of the security setup.”
“I saw the footage. I particularly enjoyed when she tried to convince him she needed to inspect the roof for ‘marketing purposes.’”
“Of course you saw that.” She grins. “Do you just sit in your office watching security feeds all day?”
“Only the entertaining ones.” The chef appears with our second course—butter-poached lobster with champagne sauce. “Though I have to admit, your friend Hailey surprised me. She has good instincts.”
“About my designs?”
“About security. She noticed the camera blind spots within ten minutes of arriving. Knox was impressed.”
“Is that why he kept hovering around while giving her the security briefing?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You noticed that too?”
“Please. Even Chloe noticed, and she was too busy trying to sneak into restricted areas to notice much of anything.” She takes a bite of the lobster and closes her eyes. “Oh my god, this is incredible.”
“Thibeaux studied in Paris for fifteen years.” I watch her savor another bite. “But you’re changing the subject. Tell me more about what you’re working on with Hailey.”
She launches into an explanation of her latest designs, pausing only when the next course arrives—a small plate of perfectly seared scallops with winter citrus. Her enthusiasm is contagious. I find myself asking questions about the creative process, genuinely interested in how her mind works.
“You actually care about all this, don’t you?” she asks suddenly.
“Of course I do. Why do you sound surprised?”
“Most people’s eyes glaze over after about thirty seconds of jewelry talk. Even my family starts checking their phones when I get going.”
“I’m not most people.” I signal for more wine. “Besides, I like watching you talk about things you’re passionate about. You get this look in your eyes...”
“What look?”
“Like you’re seeing something no one else can see yet. It’s...” I search for the right word. “Compelling.”
A slight blush colors her cheeks. “Now you’re just trying to charm me.”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.” She eyes the next course as it arrives—venison with roasted root vegetables. There’s a moment of hesitation before she speaks. “So... about earlier today...”
“When I walked in on what was clearly not a jewelry design meeting?”
“Did you hear...?” She trails off, unable to finish the question.
“Just the sudden silence.” I take a sip of wine, watching her. “Though the looks on all three of your faces were quite telling.”
She pushes her food around her plate, clearly wrestling with something. “We were talking about you, actually.” Her voice is careful, measured. “About some things Hailey’s heard. About you and your ex-partner... Julian Voss.” She shifts in her seat. “And how he was married to Claire.”
I keep my expression neutral, though my grip tightens slightly on my wineglass. “And what exactly has Hailey heard?”
“That Julian...” She hesitates, then takes a long sip of wine. “That he’s involved in some pretty dark stuff. Underground crime rings. The kind of business deals that don’t end with lawyers but with...” She trails off, clearly uncomfortable with finishing that sentence.
“I see.” My voice gives nothing away.
“But I need to know, Cole. About Julian and Claire. About you.”
The question hangs in the air between us. I consider my next words carefully, watching the collar shift against her throat as she swallows. “Some questions are better left unasked, Sloane.”
“And some answers I need to hear.” Her voice is quiet but firm. “If we’re going to...” She gestures between us, at the romantic setup I’ve created, at everything unsaid.
I consider my wineglass for a moment. “Julian does business with bad people. Yes.” I watch her process this. “And no, I don’t. Though I’m sure there are plenty of rumors suggesting otherwise.”
Sloane remains quiet, but I can tell that she’s not satisfied with my answer. She needs more.
“I made choices I’m not proud of. When you’re young and ambitious, it’s easy to justify certain decisions. To tell yourself the end justifies the means.” I meet her gaze directly. “Until one day you realize you’ve become something you never meant to be.”
“What changed?”
“Power is seductive. The more you get, the more you want. And when you’re good at taking what you want.
..” I pause, choosing my words carefully.
“Julian and I, we were very good at it. Every victory made the next one easier to justify. Every compromised deal made the next compromise smaller. You tell yourself it’s just business, just strategy.
That fear is more efficient than trust.”
I take a slow sip of wine, feeling the weight of her gaze.
“Julian thrived on it. The more brutal the strategy, the more he enjoyed the execution. He started attracting attention from people who appreciated his methods. People who saw violence as a business tool.” My jaw tightens.
“I was no better, for a while. Until I realized we weren’t climbing to the top anymore. We were sinking.”
“That’s why you ended the partnership?”
“I forced him out. Made it clear he had no choice. Then I redirected the company, cut ties with certain clients. Julian didn’t take it well.
He thought I was betraying everything we’d built.
” I watch her face carefully. “He wasn’t entirely wrong.
I did betray his vision of what we could become.
I just couldn’t be that person anymore.”
“And Claire? Was she part of all this?”
I feel my expression darken. “Claire was his wife, but she was never part of his methods. She was a brilliant jewelry designer who believed in ethical sourcing. When I discovered Julian was using blood diamonds and smuggled gems in some of the pieces, I felt she deserved to know.”
“So you told her,” Sloane says softly.
“I did. She was devastated. Planned to leave him, take her designs with her. She gave me her portfolio for safekeeping. The last collection she designed before...” I trail off, the memory still raw.
“Before her accident,” Sloane finishes for me.
“That wasn’t an accident.” The words come out harder than I intended. “Julian found out she was leaving. That she knew everything. Her car going off that cliff was too convenient, too clean. The investigation found nothing, but I know Julian was behind it.”
“You have proof?” Her eyes are wide now.
“Nothing concrete. Just a lifetime of knowing how he operates.” My voice drops. “If I’d known what he was planning, I would have done anything to stop it. Anything to save her. By the time I realized what happened, it was too late.”