CHAPTER 39
MAURA
I tap my foot as the elevator moves downward. I hadn't planned on leaving the apartment today. I woke up feeling stronger than I’ve been and I hoped to spend the day painting.
That is, until I checked my husband's shared calendar and saw my father's name.
I'm not looking forward to seeing Victor, but there’s no way I’d let him and James have a meeting discussing my future without me. I might be sick, but I deserve a place in that conversation, goddamn it.
The elevator door is open, and there's no one behind the reception desk. It's no surprise that James would clear out the staff to protect his privacy. I'll have to find the boardroom on my own.
I stride down the hallway. Each office I pass is dark and empty.
When I reach the end of the hallway, I hear snippets of raised voices, and I follow them.
As they get closer, I can recognize my father’s tone, then my husband’s.
The door is cracked open, and before I can step through it, a voice thunders through the walls.
“That’s my wife!” James roars, with so much force that it steals my breath. I stumble back a step, shocked.
I have no idea why he's saying it. All I know is that I've never heard anyone talk about me in such a territorial way before.
“How dare you talk to me like that!” my father sputters from inside.
“I'll speak to you however I wish, after you spoke about my wife like some malfunctioning piece of equipment.” My hand flies to my chest and the raucous beating there.
I've always wished someone would say these things to my father. I never imagined it would be James.
Of course, my father immediately throws a temper tantrum. “If you don't watch your mouth, I'll end the deal right now. Pages doesn't need you.”
“Fine. I'm prepared to end our deal now,” James says.
I listen, shocked, as James and the other man outline their plans to get out of the deal with Pages. It's the whole reason James married me in the first place, and now, he's willing to just throw it away. I don't know what to think. Apparently, neither does Victor.
“I thought you were supposed to be the Villain of Sequel,” he yells. “This ruthless CEO who does what it takes to make a profit. But you're going soft. You're letting yourself be ruled by a woman!”
James’s voice is low and cool. “Say whatever you want about me, but watch your tongue. Maura and the baby come first now. Any leverage you thought you had just became negotiable.”
Then the door slams open and my father storms out, his face a deep burgundy. I recognize the specific scowl on his face. This is how he looks when he's so furious, he’s got tunnel vision. I'm not surprised when he stalks down the hallway without turning his head to see me.
A moment after, another older man emerges. He wears a tailored suit and a calm expression. He sees me, and nods politely. “Your husband is inside.”
“Thank you,” I murmur and walk through the door.
James stands with his back toward me, his hands clenched tightly to the back of a chair. His gaze is fixed on the wraparound windows, showing the view of the city. I walk toward him slowly. Right before I reach out to tap his shoulder, he spins around, his eyes widening as he sees me.
“Maura,” he breathes. “What are you doing here?”
“Eavesdropping. I heard you fighting with my father.”
His expression darkens. “He’s a pathetic waste of carbon and luxury watches.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you. So, what was your argument about?”
His throat bobs as he swallows. “Our deal fell apart. It happens sometimes in business.”
Already, he's trying to downplay it. I’m starting to understand that James shies away from showing affection whenever he can, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it.
I reach out, running my thumb over his lapel. “Because you chose me instead. Thank you.”
He shrugs. “There was no choice. I could never do business with anyone who disrespects my wife.”
“Because you care,” I whisper.
“Yes.” His cool blue eyes flit between mine. “Because I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about another person. Because I can’t imagine my life without the color you brought into it. Because the most worthwhile thing I’ll ever do is make a family with you.”
Tears prick at my eyes. I might have had a father, but I never had a family. Not like the one I always dreamed about.
“You know,” I whisper, “I used to think I knew what love looked like. Real love. I only saw that one time when I was a kid. That family I told you about on the way to Greece. They were a real family. And I think I’ve lived my whole life telling myself I could never have it even though it’s what I wanted most.”
James's hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn't realize had fallen. “Tell me again—about the boy.”
Her brow furrows, but she continues.
“Well, I was all alone in that storage room.” I lose myself in the memory.
“And then this boy came in. He brought me cake from the kitchen, and cookies, and this mountain of food the staff had given him. He sat with me while I drew. He was the first person who ever looked at my art like it mattered.”
“Horses,” James says quietly. “You were drawing horses.”
My heart stops.
“How did you—” I pull back to look at him, really look at him. The dark hair. The serious mouth that still looks thoughtful when it smiles. The blue eyes that used to be lighter, before life made them harder.
“The lock on that door never worked,” James says, his voice rough. “I knew because my parents took me to events there all the time. I explored every room in that hall when I got bored.”
My hand flies to my mouth.
“You had a purple beaded bag,” he continues. “You kept your markers in it. You showed me every drawing in your notebook, and I sat there looking at them because I couldn't believe someone my age could create something so beautiful.”
“James—”
I can’t breathe. It’s not possible, is it?
“My mother came to get me. You looked so disappointed when I had to leave. I ran back to say goodbye, and we made a pinky promise.”
His eyes are bright now, almost glassy. “I spent years going to every gala I could, hoping I'd find you again. I never did. I never even knew your name.”
The room spins.
All this time. All this time, and the boy who brought me cake, who made me feel seen for the first time in my life, who showed me what a real family looked like—
“It was you,” I breathe. “You were the boy.”
“And you were the girl with the horses.”
He cups my face in both hands now, his forehead pressing against mine. “Maura, I think I’ve been looking for you for sixteen years.”
A sob breaks free from my chest—half laugh, half cry. “Oh my god.”
He chuckles, curious. “What?”
“I drew us getting married that night. After you left. I put a veil on my dress and a ring on my finger. I was ten.”
James laughs, the sound echoing in my own chest. “If you'd shown me, I would have run screaming in the other direction.”
I sniff and wipe my nose, trying to get control of this swelling feeling in my chest that makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time.
“Afraid of cooties?” I challenge.
“Definitely. Who wouldn’t be terrified of unresearched diseases with no known cure?”
I laugh through my tears, and then I'm kissing him, kissing the boy who brought me cake when I was lonely, who looked at my art like it mattered, who has somehow become the man holding me like I'm the most precious thing in the world.
“Your mother,” I whisper against his lips. “She was so beautiful. And your father—the way he looked at her—”
“Like she was his whole world,” James finishes.
“I’m so sorry for what happened to them.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, burying my head in his chest and inhaling his familiar scent.
“I never thought I would find someone to love how they loved each other. I think they’d be proud…and I think—I think they would have loved you.”
My eyes burn and I wish so badly that I could’ve met them properly, but I’ll always have that small memory of his mother and her warmth. It’s a huge part of what always compelled me to want to become a mother myself.
“You have no idea how much it meant to me to hear you say ‘my wife’ like that. Like I’m something precious and important.”
“Someone,” he corrects, and I smile.
“Someone,” I agree.
“My schedule for tomorrow will change,” he says absently, his thumb tracing the back of my neck. “I’ve got meetings with my lawyer to rewrite the contract. It might take some time to divulge Sequel’s interests from Pages. There might be some late nights.”
“How much will it cost you to get out of it?” My father might not have mentored me in business, but I’ve spent enough time listening to him rant on the phone to know that getting out of big deals like this is expensive for both parties.
“It doesn't matter,” James says. “I'm prepared to take a financial hit if it means keeping Victor away from us and our baby.”
I blink up at him. “I missed you,” I murmur. “Not just your protections or your plans, but you.”
A smile breaks across his face, wider than I've ever seen on him, and I can't help myself.
I push up on my toes and kiss him. His lips press softly and reverently back against mine in a gentle caress.
My chest blooms with joy and wonder and, most of all, hope—hope for a future full of warmth and love.
James’s lips part, and I can’t resist sweeping my tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss. His hard body presses flush to mine as his broad hands cradle my face like he’s protecting it. My back arches, pressing my breasts harder against him and he breaks away.
“Wait, Maura.” His voice sounds rough. “Are you ready for this? I don’t want to hurt you, after—”
“James.” I press my hand to his heart. “I don’t want to feel breakable with you. It makes me feel like you’re holding back.”