Chapter 16
LUCIAN
The air was thick with tension in the boardroom at our quarterly catch up, more so than normal.
I listened to Robert Vaughn's quarterly presentation with half my attention, the other half focused on the undercurrents of tension that I'd been carrying around since lunch with my daughter four days ago.
"—and while our client retention remains strong, we need to ensure that all partnerships maintain the highest standards of professional conduct," Vaughn was saying as he made a point to make eye contact with me across the table.
"Avoiding any conflicts of interest that might compromise our fiduciary responsibilities. "
One of our longest-serving board members nodded approvingly. "Absolutely crucial, Robert. Our reputation depends on maintaining clear boundaries between personal and professional relationships."
Another pointed look in my direction.
I kept my expression neutral, but fury burned in my chest.
They were hinting at my relationship with Tessa without naming her.
They didn't even have the respect to address it directly and ask me what was happening.
They'd gotten information from someone somewhere, and they ran with it and never bothered to substantiate any of the claims.
"I couldn't agree more," said Harrison Webb, the board's newest member and one of Viktoria's social circle connections. "Public perception affects investor confidence. Any appearance of impropriety can damage stakeholder trust."
I listened carefully to every one of their comments, and some of them I agreed with and voiced as much to them.
But by the time the meeting was over, I still felt like putting my fist through the wall. I felt blindsided by the whole thing, especially as the meeting was wrapping up and a few of them gave me salty stares.
I left the meeting feeling like I'd been punched in the gut, and CFO Daniel Mercer caught up with me in the hallway. "Lucian, do you have a minute?"
I gestured him into my office and closed the door, already knowing I wouldn't enjoy whatever he had to say. If the meeting hadn't been bad enough, I knew he was here to give me another lecture.
"I wanted to give you a heads up about something," Daniel began, and I could tell by the look on his face that something worse than the meeting topic was going on. "Viktoria's been making calls."
My jaw tightened. "What kind of calls?"
"To board members' wives. She's having casual conversations about you, asking questions about your personal life.
Specifically, whether you've been seen with anyone new.
" His voice hovered just below a professional tone, but I sensed he was trying to warn me.
"She's being subtle about it, but the intent is clear. "
The frustration that had been simmering all morning exploded into white-hot fury.
Viktoria was weaponizing her social connections, using her network of wealthy wives to spread gossip about my private life.
She knew exactly how much damage she could do through strategic whispers and she didn't care what fallout came of it for me.
No doubt, Blake and Elena had reported to her their suspicions, which they'd both made painfully clear to me. I was giving "the help" too much leash.
"How do you know this?" I asked.
"My wife mentioned it. Apparently, Viktoria brought up your 'new interests' during a museum fundraiser last week. Asked if anyone had noticed you seem more… personally invested in certain staff members lately."
So that was what the whole board fiasco was about just now. Viktoria wasn't just spreading rumors—she was targeting Tessa specifically, painting her as someone who'd seduced me for professional gain. Tessa was being characterized as a gold-digger by people who'd never even met her.
"She's protecting Elena and Blake," Daniel continued. "Making sure their inheritance stays secure by discrediting any woman who might threaten their position. I'm sure she thinks she's just being a good mother to them, but…" His eyebrows rose as he let his words trail off.
This was humiliating. Viktoria had no right to do what she was doing. Blake and Elena's inheritance was fine.
Their trust funds were secure. I was in no place to lose my position here or the millions I had stashed away in accounts with their names on them.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process the full scope of what I was facing.
Viktoria was actively working to destroy Tessa's reputation—which was the leading reason the board was suspicious.
Otherwise, no one would've said a thing. My children were convinced Tessa was manipulating me. And it felt like the walls were closing in from every direction.
"What's your recommendation?" I asked, though I already knew the answer would tear my heart out.
"Distance yourself. Publicly, at least. Transfer her to another department, maybe. Put some space between you and her professional development until this dies down."
The suggestion felt like a knife to the chest.
Transfer Tessa away from me, watch someone else mentor her, pretend that she meant nothing more than any other employee? The thought of seeing her across the office made me want to destroy something.
"But I'm mentoring her. She has promise, Dan. She's really good…" I tried my hardest to keep my emotions out of it so he'd see reason, but he shook his head.
"Is she good enough to risk a scandal and flush your career down the toilet?" One eyebrow perked up and he said, "Because that's where this is going if your ex-wife keeps pushing buttons."
Daniel was right. The alternative was watching Viktoria's campaign succeed, seeing Tessa's reputation destroyed along with mine.
I couldn't let that happen to her. She deserved better than being collateral damage in my ex-wife's vindictive games.
"I'll handle it," I said finally, and although I hated every single second of it, and myself for not standing up for her, I had to follow through. I sent Tessa a message that we had to meet and gave her an address of a small dive bar across town where no one would recognize us.
Two hours later, I was seated in a corner booth waiting for her with two glasses of bourbon already swirling in my veins.
"Your message was strange," she said, sliding into the booth across from me. "Is everything all right?"
I ordered another whiskey for myself and wine for her, buying time to find the right words for an impossible conversation. "We need to talk about the situation at the office."
Her expression grew guarded. "What situation?"
"The gossip. The speculation about us." I took a long sip of my drink, tasting nothing. "It's escalating to the point the board is bringing it up."
"I know people are talking. I've heard some of it." I watched her wilt and her shoulders sag. "Are you worried about your reputation?"
Her question felt like a knife in my chest. I wasn't thinking of myself at all. "I'm worried about yours. And about what this is doing to your career prospects."
I explained the board meeting, their pointed comments about professional conduct.
I told her about Viktoria's social campaign, the strategic spread of rumors designed to paint her as manipulative and opportunistic. With each revelation, I watched the color drain from her face.
"Your ex-wife is calling board members' wives about me?" Tessa's voice was barely above a whisper. Clearly, she hadn't realized the scope of how bad this was getting.
"She's protecting what she sees as her children's interests. Making sure no woman gets close enough to cull my attention and funds which might threaten their inheritance." The words tasted bitter in my mouth. "It's her way of getting back at me, which makes her dangerous."
Tessa stared at her wine glass, processing what I'd told her. "So everyone thinks I'm sleeping my way to the top…" Her head drooped and I felt my stomach knot up.
"Everyone thinks they know more than they actually do. But perception becomes reality in situations like this, especially when influential people are actively shaping that perception."
"And you're worried about how this affects Cross Capital." When her eyes rose, I felt accused, though there was no guile in her expression.
I hated that she thought I was only protecting myself because deep down,
I only wanted what was best for her.
I could bounce back from anything. She was the one with no safety net and big dreams.
"I'm worried about how this affects you. Your reputation, your future opportunities. You want that MBA, you want to build something for yourself. None of that happens if Viktoria succeeds in destroying your professional credibility."
She looked up at me then, and I saw the hurt she'd been trying to hide. "What are you saying, Lucian?"
This was the moment I'd been dreading, the conversation that would rip my heart out while I pretended it was a reasonable business decision. "I'm saying we need to be more careful. More discreet."
"How discreet?"
"Fewer private meetings. Less visible interaction at the office. Maybe Daniel should take over some of your mentorship, handle your project assignments for a while." Each word felt like swallowing boiling glass, but I forced them out. "We need to give people less to speculate about."
The silence that followed was devastating. I watched her face as she processed what I was really saying—that I was pulling away from her professionally and personally, creating distance that would protect us both but destroy the tender flame we'd been nurturing.
"I see." Her voice was steady, but I could hear the pain underneath. "So we step back from each other, go back to being nothing more than boss and employee."
"It's temporary, Tessa. Just until—"
"Until when?" Tears brimmed in her eyes and I noticed the tremor in her hands.
I also noticed how her jaw was clenched, the way her lip quivered.
The way her pulse seemed to pound in her chest. "Until you don't regret me anymore?
" Tessa was shaking, on the verge of breaking down crying. What was I doing?
I was merely suggesting that the arrangement we had needed to be more discreet and it looked like she was taking it very hard, which only meant one thing.
Tessa was developing feelings for me the same way I was falling for her, and she'd been too professional to say anything about it. She'd been keeping the agreement and all the while, her heart was getting tangled up as easily as mine had.
I'd spent all day—all month, in fact—thinking that getting my heart all wrapped up in another relationship had been a mistake.
But this wasn't a mistake—it was the best thing that had happened to me in years. But I couldn't tell her that without making everything worse.
"This isn't about regret," I said quietly. "This is about protecting what we both care about."
"Lucian… It feels like you're only protecting yourself." Her words were so quiet, and I couldn't blame her. Somewhere along the line, a spark happened between us and I caught it, but I rationalized it away, like she never felt it too. But she had.
She was wrong. I wasn't only protecting myself, but I couldn't explain that without revealing feelings I had no right to burden her with.
I was protecting her career, her future, her dreams of motherhood. I was protecting her from becoming a casualty in Viktoria's war against any woman who might matter to me.
Most of all, I was protecting my own heart from the inevitable moment when she realized that being with me cost more than it was worth.
"I know how this looks," I said. "I know it feels like I'm abandoning you when things get difficult."
"Are you?"
I was drowning in guilt. Regardless of whether it would ever work between us, I felt like I was failing her.
We had a friendship I knew deserved more respect than this.
"No. But I'm asking you to trust me when I say that stepping back now is the only way to preserve what we have long-term."
Tessa finished her wine in one swallow and stood up. "I need to go, Luci."
I watched her gather her purse, noting the way her hands shook slightly.
The urge to stop her, to tell her I loved her and damn the consequences, was almost overwhelming. But love meant wanting what was best for her, even when it tore me apart.
"Tessa." She paused at the edge of the booth. "This doesn't have to change our arrangement."
The smile she gave me was heartbreaking in its sadness. "Doesn't it?"
After she left, I sat alone in the bar for another hour, drinking whiskey and hating myself. I'd seen the depth of her feelings in her reaction, the way my suggestion had wounded her on a level that went beyond professional disappointment.
She was falling in love with me, maybe had already fallen, and I was asking her to step back just when our connection was deepening into something real.
The knowledge that she cared about me as much as I cared about her should have been a victory.
Instead, it felt like the cruelest irony of all—finding love at exactly the moment when claiming it would destroy us both.