Chapter 219 Callum #2
Geneviève stepped forward first. Her posture lengthened, smile smoothing into something soft but practiced. “Aurélie, ma chère,” she murmured, stepping forward.
Auri released my hand and kissed her mother’s cheeks, then her father’s, light, polite, and distant in a way only someone raised in formality could master. And when she stepped back, she angled herself just enough that her hand was tucked away from their calculated gaze.
“Papa, Maman,” she said, voice composed. “This is Callum.”
I refused to flinch under Augustin’s scrutiny, so I held out my right hand. “Bonsoir,” I greeted in smooth French, bowing my head just slightly. “C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer.”
A flicker—just a flicker—passed over her father’s face.
Surprise, appraisal… and something that felt dangerously close to approval.
His grip closed around mine firmly, the kind of handshake meant to test a man’s spine.
He didn’t squeeze harder, but he held on just long enough to make it clear he saw me.
Me—not the driver, not the headlines, not the net worth.
When he released me, the tension in my shoulders eased by a fraction.
Geneviève’s eyes brightened with the kind of hopeful curiosity reserved for someone trying to decide whether a stranger is a threat or a gift.
I shifted smoothly, tucking my left arm behind my back in a gesture so old-fashioned I could practically hear my mother’s approving hum—then offered my right hand, palm up, waiting.
Her brows lifted, pleasantly surprised. When she placed her hand in mine, I bowed slightly and kissed the back of her knuckles, a show of respect more intimate than a handshake but formal enough to be unimpeachable.
Geneviève blinked, once, twice, her composure cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of warmth beneath the refinement.
“Bienvenue,” she said softly. “Entrez, s’il vous pla?t. ”
They turned and walked inside the house.
Behind me, Auri inhaled quietly, so soft no one else would hear it.
But I did. Because her hand slipped instinctively into mine again, tugging me forward with her.
We followed them, the air thick with polite distance and unsaid things, and I couldn’t shake the sense that the ground beneath us was shifting quietly, almost inevitably, as if the house itself knew what was coming.
And for that brief, suspended moment, the only steady thing between all four of us… was her. Her body lead mine. Her grip anchored me. Her presence bridged the gap between the life she came from and the life we were building.
And God help me, I let her guide me like she was the only compass I’d ever trust.
We hadn’t taken more than a handful of steps inside before someone appeared in the archway at the end of the hall, leaning a shoulder casually against the stone.
étienne Dubois.
Still carrying himself like a driver—relaxed posture, lethal awareness, and his signature charming smile.
“Fraser,” he drawled, pushing off the wall.
The sound of my surname in his voice hit with an unexpected punch of nostalgia.
I huffed out a breath. “Dubois.”
He approached with a familiar swagger—half arrogance, half charm, the delicate balance only the French ever seemed to master.
Before I could offer my hand, he reached for mine first, gripping it in a firm shake, but then pulled me into one of those half-hug, half-back-slap greetings that racers default to when pretending they don’t have emotions.
It was weirdly grounding.
“I’ll be honest,” he murmured near my ear, “didn’t expect you to show up on this doorstep. Thought you’d run screaming.”
I snorted. “Trust me, mate. I considered it.”
He stepped back, laughing, then gave me a look—sharp, assessing, softening just slightly at the edges. “Good to see you again. It’s nice to see someone give you a proper fight on track.”
“Yeah, well, you were a pain in my ass, too,” I admitted, but there was warmth buried in it.
He and I had always gotten along, because he’d been highly revered in the sport.
He was the golden boy in the sense that he was the FIA’s picture-perfect, charismatic, beloved driver.
I was their franchise, by-the-book driver.
Treated similarly, but for different reasons.
His presence was missed on the grid.
“Likewise.” His grin widened. “You still brake too early.”
“Funny,” I shot back, “considering you were the one who sent your car into a wall at 150.”
His smile dimmed, but not badly. Just… honestly.
He exhaled. “Touché.”
For a moment, the weight of that crash hung between us—the one that ended his career, changed the trajectory of Auri’s life, and indirectly carved the path that led her straight into mine.
I still remembered passing the crash, making my way back to the pit lane, red flags waving.
His steering column had seized from the piece of shit car Luminis claimed was drivable.
His car was a mangled mess in the barrier, smoke and flames surrounding it.
I had no idea in that moment whether he was dead or alive.
The memory sobered me. “How’s the recovery? Really.”
étienne’s jaw shifted. Then he shrugged—not dismissively, but truthfully. “Regained about ninety percent. Strength is good most days. Pain…” His lips twitched wryly. “She’s a stubborn companion. But I’m alive. And I get to watch Ray finally have her moment. That part feels… worth it.”
Ray. Auri’s childhood nickname. The one only her siblings and Kimi had earned the right to use. Something in my chest tugged.
“She deserves every bit of it,” I said quietly. “And more.”
étienne studied me for a long moment, stripping me down without cruelty. Then he nodded once, decisive.
“She does,” he agreed. “And she chose you.”
There it was—the unspoken test. Passed or failed in a single sentence.
I held his gaze. “I’m good to her. I will always be good to her.”
“I know.” He clasped my shoulder, squeezing once. “Just making sure you know it too.”
étienne’s hand was still on my shoulder when Auri drifted ahead toward her parents, her mother touching her arm lightly, her father leaning in to ask something in low French.
Their attention shifted.
For the first time since stepping through the door, no one was looking at me.
Except étienne. His eyes narrowed—not threatening, not defensive, but perceptive. Racer eyes. Ones that never missed a tell.
I lifted my hand subtly. Casual to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. It was enough for the ring to catch étienne’s gaze.
His dark brows pulled together in a quick, stunned blink—as if I’d thrown a punch he never saw coming. His throat worked once in a swallow, the muscles of his jaw flexing like he was swallowing about four different reactions at once.
He didn’t look at Auri. He didn’t look toward their parents.
He looked right at me.
Racer to racer. Twin brother to the woman I loved. Man to man.
There was no universe where he missed the meaning.
I didn’t hide the quiet challenge in my stare.
She’s my family now. I’m yours, too, if you want it. But I’ll protect her either way.
Auri turned at that exact second—her eyes widening when she saw my raised hand, the ring glinting. A tiny, startled yelp escaped her. But before she could speak, I lowered my hand smoothly, slipping it back into my pocket like the good boy she expected me to be.
I turned fully back to étienne. Who huffed a disbelieving laugh under his breath and dragged a hand down his face.
“Putain,” he muttered, half awed, half scandalized. “You actually did it.”
I smirked. “Yeah, mate. I did.”
He glanced over at Auri—who was pretending to be engrossed in her mother’s words but absolutely failing to hide the flush rising in her cheeks—then back to me.
This time, when étienne’s eyes met mine, there was no smirk. He stepped in closer and lowered his voice. “When?”
I lifted my left hand, this time openly. “Last week. In Greece.”
étienne stared at the ring again with a long, quiet look that felt like its own kind of blessing. “Who knows?”
“Just Marco and Kimi.” I left Lucy out of this, because her involvement needed to stay a secret given the clauses of her contract. “And our friend Ivy.”
“Guessing she wanted to visit now before it leaked to the press.” He tipped his head in his sister’s direction.
“We just got home yesterday. Zandvoort is next weekend, which means more travel. And you and I both know that anything the press finds gossip-worthy will be smeared across the internet in a matter of hours. It made sense to come now.”
He nodded once, decisive, a soldier laying down his sword.
“Good,” he said softly, voice steadying. “She was always the strong one between the two of us. How differently she was treated growing up…” He frowned. “It wasn’t fair to her. She deserved someone who would prioritize her. I was worried when she got involved with Costa.”
I bristled at the mention of her ex. The time I’d beaten the shit out of him after he forced himself on Auri. God, I saw red. If Auri hadn’t been there, I’m not sure I would’ve stopped.
“I’ve already beaten the shit out of him once, mate,” I said plainly. “And I’ll do it to anyone who even thinks about laying so much as a finger on her without her consent.” I held his gaze, steady and certain. “She’s safe with me.”
Then I huffed a quiet, humorless laugh and shook my head. “But to be fair, she hardly needed rescuing. Kneed him straight in the balls. Saw it with my own two eyes, swear to God.”
étienne blinked, then barked out a surprised laugh, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. “Ouais, that sounds like her,” he muttered, a hint of pride in it.
I felt my own mouth tug into a crooked smile. “She can handle her own,” I added. “I’m just there to make sure she never has to do it alone again.”
He studied me for a beat, something like relief settling in his expression.
Then he nodded once, firm and approving.
“Good,” he said quietly. “That’s all I ever wanted for her.
Now, come on. Before Maman starts hovering and Papa starts interrogating, meet our spoiled, feral excuse for a baby sister. ”
As if summoned, a voice called out, “Is that Callum Fraser? Oh my God, Ray, you brought a celebrity home?”
Aurélie groaned under her breath. “Emilie…”
And around the corner, her younger sister appeared, bright-eyed, early twenties, tousled blonde hair, wearing a sweater three sizes too big and socks that didn’t match.
She looked at Auri first—really looked—and her expression softened in a way that cracked something open in me. “It’s nice to see you happy for once,” she said simply, earnestly.
Auri didn’t even hesitate before she smiled, small but real.
That alone was worth every ounce of fear I’d dragged here.
Then Emilie’s eyes snapped to me and she grinned like trouble incarnate. “So. You’re the one who made my sister soft.”
étienne snorted. “Soft? Ray? Never.”
Auri elbowed him sharply. “Shut up.”
I extended a hand. “Emilie. Enchanté.”
She blinked rapidly—once, twice—then turned to her sister with a theatrical pout.
“Where do I find one?”
My wife scoffed but pulled her sister into a quick hug. When she let go, she sighed. “Maybe leave the estate once in a while.”
Emilie recoiled dramatically, scrunching her nose. “Leave? Out there? With the commoners?”
“Oh my God.” Auri closed her eyes like she was recalibrating her entire soul. I grinned so big my cheeks hurt.
Emilie turned to me, stage-whispering loud enough that the ancestors heard it. “Is it exhausting being a celebrity?”
“He’s not—he’s not the only—” Auri protested.
Emilie arched a brow, wicked. “Right, right. Sorry. You bagged a celebrity.”
Auri threw her hands up. “I’m a celebrity!”
étienne choked on absolutely nothing. “Since when?”
“Since this year! You were, too, once!” Auri jabbed a finger in his direction.
He bristled. “I was? I am! I’ve only been out for nine months!”
Emilie patted his arm like he was a wounded dog. “Retirement looks good on you, by the way.”
Auri rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. My chest warmed, heart thawing just a bit more when I saw how relaxed her body language was.
The entire room shifted then. It was subtle, but went from scrutiny to… familiarity. Exhausting, yes. But survivable.
The moment I started looking around, I knew exactly what kind of wealth I was dealing with. I’d spent enough time around billionaires to know the difference. The ones who came from new money flaunted it—gaudy displays, flash, opulence cranked to the highest fucking setting.
But old money? That was different. More subtle. More ingrained. It didn’t need to be flaunted because it had always been there. And Aurélie’s family was old money through and through.
The chateau was a fucking masterpiece.
Massive stone walls framed the entryway, worn smooth with age.
The ceilings were high, cavernous, lined with exposed wooden beams, each one older than every investor I’d ever had to sit across from at a gala.
Grand arches framed doorways that led to sprawling sitting rooms with oversized windows, golden light filtering through the sheer linen curtains.
The floors were dark hardwood, polished to hell, the kind of wood that had been walked on for centuries, not just decades. Art lined the walls; not the kind you casually pick up at a Sotheby’s auction to impress your friends, but the kind that had likely been in their family for generations.
Everything about this place was rooted in history. And the thing about history was that it had weight.
It settled in my bloodstream as I took it all in, a quiet kind of reverence sinking into my bones. I’d been in my fair share of luxury homes. But nothing ever quite like this.
I should’ve expected it. Auri was never flashy, never boasted about where she came from. She didn’t need to. She was the product of this world, but she wasn’t a prisoner to it.
She had walked away from all of this to make something of herself outside of her name. Just like I did. And even though our upbringings were the opposite, our souls were always destined to understand one another.