Chapter 25
Dorian
Ibrace my hand against the dining table, my fingers pressing into the surface.
Morning light spills across the room, bathing the walls in a soft, rustic gold.
I’ve spent the last few days living in my office at Vale Global.
When I got home last night, I was barely in before the sun came up again. I don’t think I can call the meager two hours of rest I got sleep, but it’s better than nothing.
The other day, when I worked late, I genuinely was catching up on work.
This time, it’s different.
I have a different problem.
Elodie Harper.
I can still see her beautiful, naked body writhing in pleasure against the table, and taste her sweet arousal on the tip of my tongue.
And I still feel like a fool for walking away.
Why did I leave? Especially when I was the one who started the whole thing.
I just couldn’t do it.
I was moments away from fucking her.
Moments away from finally satisfying a thousand-year-old itch, and I stopped myself because I couldn’t do it.
I’m not supposed to feel anything for her. Going that far when we’re about to engage in a marriage of convenience threw me off, and it didn’t feel fair. To her.
I meant it when I said it wasn’t a good idea. It wasn’t.
My absence over the last few days gave us distance. But I’m sure the engagement ring in my pocket will make things that much more complicated.
It arrived last night. Hand-delivered from Switzerland.
It’s the final piece of the plan before the wedding.
One glimpse of it on Elodie’s hand, paired with the whispers the PR team are about to spread, and the tabloids will go batshit crazy.
I can see the headlines now.
Villainous Billionaire Dorian Vale Engaged to Long-Lost Love.
Since the yacht party, I’ve been in the spotlight in all the right ways.
Just like I planned, our story is all over the papers. Levi worked his magic with the PR team and produced a miracle. The people love me.
But it has nothing to do with me. It’s all her.
She makes me look good.
Some are even calling us Beauty and the Beast—and they mean it because everyone knows I’m a villain.
Elodie’s lighthearted presence and inner beauty shine through like a constellation of stars.
And fuck, I even had my old man smiling with me again. Haven’t seen him like that since I was a kid. Long before I started disappointing him.
These are all good things.
Everything is going exactly to plan.
Except for her.
Every thought I have still circles back to her. And I feel like I am losing control.
Now I am here, preparing to put my ring on her finger.
The easy way out would be to let Albert give it to her, or even leave it in her room, but neither of those are my style.
This isn’t something I want to delegate.
If she’s going to wear my ring, I’ll be the one putting it on her. After that, distance resumes.
I need to take the reins on the situation. It got out of hand because I dropped my guard and allowed my fucking dick to take over.
Business is business. That is the thing I need to remember.
Vanessa walks into the dining room carrying a tray of pastries. She smiles at me and raises the tray higher.
“You’re not doing my sweet tooth any favors,” I tease with a lighthearted chuckle.
“A little sugar makes everyone’s day so much better.” She sets the tray on the table.
“I can’t argue.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“No.”
“Shout if you need me.”
“Sure.” I give her a curt nod.
She leaves, and hardly a second goes by before I hear Elodie’s voice in the corridor. She’s telling Vanessa good morning.
Moments later, she walks into the room and stops short when she sees me sitting at the table.
I can’t blame her for the reaction. Apart from our little encounter, she’s not used to me being around at this hour. Or at all.
I give her credit for composing herself and plastering on a smile.
“Hi,” she says in a polite tone, resuming her steps.
“Morning.” My gaze drifts over her plaid skirt and camisole. Perfect. She’d have to look like the sexy schoolteacher when I’m trying to keep my distance from her.
She walks up to the table, assessing me as if she’s trying to decide whether my presence is a good thing or not.
“Sit here.” I point to the chair directly beside me.
Her jaw clenches, but she sits and pours herself coffee.
“It’s strange seeing you here for breakfast,” she states, keeping her gaze on the dark coffee filling her cup.
As expected, she’s distant. And that’s not a bad thing.
“I have something for you.”
She faces me, curiosity taking the edge off her gaze. “What is it?”
I reach into my pocket, retrieve the small velvet ring box, and hold it out. Her sea-green eyes widen, betraying the flicker of excitement she’s trying to suppress.
A soft gasp escapes her when I flip the box open, revealing a custom piece from Graff. It’s an emerald-cut diamond, substantial enough to catch every shard of light and throw it back twice as sharp.
She goes still, then her gaze flicks back up to me.
“This is… too much.” She breathes out a ragged sigh and looks like she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.
“Don’t you like it?” That’s not possible. No woman on earth would hate this ring.
“I… love it. It’s just too much. I’ve already taken enough of your money. I don’t need something so… expensive.”
“If you like it, it’s yours.” I give her a clipped smile. “Give me your hand.”
She stares at me for a moment, and I can practically see her mind turning over with thoughts. Then, hesitantly, she stretches out her hand. I take it and slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly. The same way I know she’d fit me.
Something primal settles inside me as I stare at the ring on her long, graceful finger.
It feels official now.
Like she’s really mine.
She studies the ring, too, but her eyes hold no emotion. I can’t even guess what she’s thinking.
“The press are still following us,” I say, getting back to business.
“Following?” Her eyes dart back to me.
“Don’t panic. I have people on the lookout. They’ll make sure nothing gets out of hand.”
“Okay. I guess that works.”
“This will cause a new stir.”
“I can imagine so.” Her eyes float back to the ring sparkling on her finger. “Thank you,” she says, as if she’s just remembered her manners.
I give her a clipped smile. “Now that’s in order, we can move forward.”
Her gaze locks on mine. “What does that look like from here?”
The question feels like a callback to the other night, and I know she wants an explanation for my actions. I can’t give it to her, so I do the next best thing.
“Wedding and a baby. We stick to the contract.” I’m blunt on purpose, sounding no different from how I would in a business meeting with strangers who are only interested in what I can do with their money.
My tone leaves no room for delusion and hits the mark. She curls her fingers inward.
“Sure.” She tries to compose herself, but the tremor in her hand gives her away. “The wedding planner will be here tomorrow to finalize everything. Should I email you the details, so you can agree to them?” She changes the subject quickly.
“We’ll go with whatever you want.”
“Don’t you want some say in it?”
“No. Sorry, Little Lamb, I don’t have time for things like that. I just want it done.”
She blinks, then straightens. “Right. I guess I’ll just go with what I think is best.”
“Perfect.” I stand, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me. “I’ll be away for a few days.”
“Business?”
I could say yes. I am heading to Chicago to meet a client. It’s the truth. But if we’re to live separate lives, she needs to understand that from now on. So do I.
“Elodie,” I say her name in a low voice.
“Yes.”
“It’s probably wise to stop asking me where I’m going. It may not always be business. Separate lives, remember?”
The light in her eyes dims before I even finish speaking. “Right. Of course.”
Just then, Albert appears at the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Vale.”
“What is it?”
“Miss Susan called. She’s confirmed for this evening. She asked if you’ll be meeting her at the restaurant or if you’d prefer I arrange the suite.”
Elodie tenses, and I can see from the way her shoulders settle she’s already formed a conclusion about who Susan is from the message.
I won’t correct her.
“The suite,” I reply to Albert.
He dips his head and leaves.
Elodie keeps her gaze lowered, her jaw tightening as if she’s forcing herself not to react.
And for the first time in my life, I feel like an asshole, but I walk out anyway, leaving the tension between us to linger.