Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“H ey.” Graham linked his hand with mine. “I have something I want to show you.”
“You do?” I asked, intrigued. “What is it?”
He’d been stripping paint again all day, while I’d been finalizing the preparations for les Journées du patrimoine. The culture festival would be here before we knew it, and I wanted it to be a successful and fun event—both for the chateau and for everyone who came to visit.
Plus, it was good to keep busy. Graham and I were headed back to LA tomorrow, and I was apprehensive. Both about leaving the chateau, though I knew it was in good hands with Luc and the artisans. But also because of what it would mean for Graham and me.
Back to work at the office for him, obviously. But would we go back to our separate rooms? Separate beds?
The new mattress had been delayed, so we’d continued to share our small, lumpy bed. It might not be the most comfortable, but I didn’t mind because I liked sleeping in his arms. And he seemed to enjoy it too.
He was different here. Calmer. More relaxed. More approachable. I liked it. Liked him, and I didn’t want this version of Graham to disappear when we left.
Queen V and Prince Albert tagged along as always, content to explore but careful to stay close. They were so sweet and mild-mannered, and I loved having them around. Growing up, I’d never had a pet. My parents had always joked that our house was already too much of a circus, and they were right. But I’d always, always wanted a dog.
Don’t get too attached, I reminded myself.
This marriage. These dogs. Everything about it was temporary. And I was merely kidding myself if I believed otherwise.
Graham dragged my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. He’d done that more lately—touched me. Linked his fingers with mine. Pressed kisses to my temple. Held me in bed at night.
“You okay?” he asked, brushing his thumb over my skin.
We’d spent so much time together that he knew how to read me. Then again, he’d always been very observant.
“Yeah.” I brushed my hair away from my face. “Just tired. Lots to do before we leave.”
“I know.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “I don’t want to leave either.”
“You don’t?” I asked. I’d suspected that he’d fallen for the chateau, but I found myself wishing he’d fall for me.
Which was silly.
Graham had always been very upfront about what this was—a business arrangement, nothing more. Wanting more would not only be greedy but foolish. And yet I couldn’t help wishing for it anyway.
The more time I spent with Graham, the more I wondered how anyone could ever accuse him of being heartless. He was protective and loving. Thoughtful and generous. Or maybe that was the side he only shared with me.
I’d seen Graham Mackenzie the CEO in action countless times, and I felt privileged that he trusted me enough to show me his soft inner core. He was a lot like Queen V and Prince Albert in that way. At first glance, their large size made them seem imposing and threatening. But they were really so sweet and just wanted to be loved. Like Graham.
He shook his head. “I love it here.”
The sincerity in his tone filled me with liquid warmth. I leaned my head against his shoulder, giving his arm a squeeze. “I’m so glad.”
“And I’ve enjoyed my time off. But when we get back, it will no longer be our honeymoon. And I’ll need to work.”
“Right,” I said. Everything was about to change, perhaps more than I’d even realized.
“Plus—” He wore a pinched expression, and I tried to brace myself for whatever was coming. “The board is being a pain in the ass.”
“About the luxury yacht line?”
“Among other things.” He was being cryptic, and I didn’t like it. Already, I could feel a change in him, as if he was rebuilding his shields to prepare to be Graham Mackenzie, CEO. And not the man I was coming to know and love.
“I’m a good listener,” I said, giving him a gentle nudge.
“I know. And it’s something I probably should’ve mentioned sooner, but I didn’t want to ruin our time together.”
I was immediately on alert, my body stiffening. “What’s wrong?”
We continued walking, following one of our familiar routes through the grounds. “Talk of the merger has been tabled for now.”
“That’s a good thing.” I peered up at him and shielded my eyes from the late afternoon sun. “Isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Several members of the board hired a lawyer to contest the validity of the marriage clause in my grandfather’s will.”
I frowned. “Based on everything you’ve told me, that sounds like a waste of time and money.” Though, wouldn’t that be a kicker. I wondered how quickly Graham would try to divorce me if that were the case.
Neither of us had mentioned our relationship’s expiration date lately, but it still loomed in my mind.
“Agreed,” he said, his tone giving zero indication of his thoughts. “But there’s more.”
I waited, giving him space to work out what he wanted to say. Though I remained on edge the entire time.
“There are questions about our relationship.”
“What kinds of questions?” I paused, coming to a stop in the middle of a copse of trees.
He slowed. “Accusations that we had an inappropriate relationship while you were my employee.”
I peered up at him. The fading sun cast him in a golden glow that made him seem almost otherworldly. With the magnificent chateau rising up behind him, he looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of time. My every fantasy come to life.
If only we could just stay here.
But that wasn’t part of the deal. And I had a role to play.
“And here I figured everyone would accuse me of being a gold digger,” I teased, though I knew people were likely saying just that. “Now they’ll also think I slept my way to the top.”
“Lil.” He took my hands in his. “I will do everything in my power to protect you. You know that, right?”
I nodded. I did know that. Regardless of how Graham might feel about me, it was in his best interest to protect me and our story.
“What can I do to help?” I asked.
“I talked to Pierce, and he suggested that we do a couple of interviews. Try to head off some of the rumors.”
I sighed, both at what that would mean for me and for Graham. Graham never did well in formal interviews. He always came off as stiff, elitist, cold. He needed a different format. Something more casual. Something that would allow him to relax. To be himself and forget about the audience. A plan took shape in my mind.
But first, I had something I needed to tell him. If we were going to be interviewed, if people were digging into our relationship, into me, he deserved to hear about my alopecia from me. But even more than that, I found myself wanting to tell him the truth.
It had been exhausting—having to make sure my hair and eyebrows and lashes were perfect, even while I was working on the construction site.
“There’s something you should know,” I said, nerves knotting my belly. I worried about his reaction. I hated that I cared so much.
He paused. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I blew out a breath. “I probably should’ve mentioned this before, but it didn’t seem relevant to our agreement.”
“And it does now?” he asked.
“It does, but also, I’m tired of keeping this secret.” There was a tense, pregnant pause. And then I said, “I have alopecia.” I pointed to my head. “This is a wig. I lost most of my hair before I was thirteen, and I’ve worn wigs ever since. I don’t have any body hair, including eyebrows or eyelashes. I have to apply them.”
He was quiet. Contemplative. And then he stepped closer. “I don’t know much about alopecia. Is it painful?”
“Only when people bully you for something you have no control over. When you’re teased. Called everything from ‘a freak of nature’ to the ‘hairless wonder,’” I said, trying not to let the memories affect me. When I looked at him, he was glowering. “But physically, no. It doesn’t hurt.”
He narrowed his eyes, a muscle in his jaw popping. “Names. I need their names.”
“Graham.” I placed my hand on his chest, feeling the raw strength beneath my palm. His muscles were clenched as if he were bracing for a fight—as if he’d fight the world for me. “They were stupid kids. It doesn’t matter.” Though, it wasn’t just stupid kids; it had been my siblings too. Some of the guys I’d dated hadn’t been much better.
“It does, and you know it. Words have power. And the things they said to you—” He shook his head, disappointment radiating off of him in waves. “Anyone would be affected by that.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Graham had understood and validated my feelings more than anyone else ever had, even my parents. Most of the time it had felt as if I were a burden. Or that they didn’t understand me or know how to deal with me.
In the beginning, trying to determine the cause of my hair loss had been time-consuming and expensive. Then, once we’d discovered it was alopecia, someone had suggested wigs. Wigs weren’t cheap, nor were the creams and medicines we’d used to try to regrow my hair, to no avail.
My siblings had been brutal. Even if they weren’t mocking me, they always seemed to resent me for getting so much attention from Mom and Dad. It wasn’t like I’d asked for the attention. Or that I wanted the hair loss.
But Graham had been kind. Caring. Sympathetic.
For a man who had been labeled as cold and heartless, he was anything but. At least, not with me. He was warm and understanding. Accepting. No one had believed me, stepped up for me, until Graham.
“I don’t want to dwell on the past,” I finally said. “I just thought I should mention it because it might come up.”
His body was still coiled tight with tension, so I placed my hand on his arm. “Thank you for wanting to defend me. No one…” I swallowed, shoving back the feeling of tears. “Well, you’re the first to…besides Jo anyway.”
“What about your family?” he asked.
I shook my head. And that reminder only reaffirmed my decision to cut them out of my life. Maybe one day we could try to have a relationship again, though things would have to change drastically. Because I was done letting them walk all over me. Letting them treat me the way they had.
It hurt to admit that, but it also felt freeing.
I was creating my own family. With Luc and the artisans. With the community around me. With Jo and even with Graham—at least for now.
He gnashed his teeth. “I’m sorry, Lil.” He pulled me to him, hugging me. “That’s shitty. But now you have me, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
My tears—like my voice—were muffled by his chest. “Thank you.”
He held me as long as I needed, giving me space and compassion and support. I’d never felt so…loved. Not that he loved me, but I felt it all the same. Finally, reluctantly, I pulled back.
“I’m honored that you told me.” He cupped my cheek. “That you trust me.”
Okay. Seriously? This was the kind of reaction I’d always dreamed of. We’d see if he still felt the same when he saw my bald head, but I was melting at his sincerity and concern—for me.
“Thank you for making it easy to tell you.” God, it was such a relief to finally share this huge thing with him.
“You must save a ton of money on hair removal and hair care.”
I laughed. Leave it to the businessman to consider the financial implications of my condition. “You’d think that, but buying high-quality eyelashes and wigs gets expensive. Well, not this wig.” I flicked my hair aside. “It’s relatively cheap, all things considered.”
Plus, there was the cost of creams to keep the skin of my head from drying out. Kits to make my eyebrows look realistic. Scarves and hats…
He slipped his hand into mine. Warm. Comforting. “Will you show me sometime?” he asked as we resumed walking. “Only if you feel comfortable.”
I nodded, surprised by how readily I’d agreed. But also…not.
“So I had an idea. About how to work on our image as a couple.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “What if you joined me on-screen in some of my videos. Just casually drop in every so often. You wouldn’t even have to talk. Just let the viewer see us together.”
He pursed his lips. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why not? I think you’d do great in an informal setting like that.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I meant for your channel. I don’t want to jeopardize your content.”
I melted a little at his thoughtfulness. “Are you kidding? My viewers would love you. You’re like a modern Mr. Darcy, strolling across the grounds of a majestic chateau. Ooh.” I snapped. “Do you think you’d be willing to stand in a pond in a white shirt?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” I smiled, amused by his expression and this conversation. Though, damn, my viewers would lose their shit if I staged something like that.
That said, I wasn’t sure I wanted to share Graham with the rest of the world. I knew it was in our best interest, but I liked that I got to have him all to myself when we were at the chateau.
We continued walking, meandering among the old trees. Hands intertwined, heart full. The leaves crunched beneath our feet, a squirrel scurrying up a nearby trunk.
“Who is this Mr. Darcy?” Graham asked. “This is the second time I’ve heard his name. First Sloan, and now you. Should I be jealous?”
“He’s only every woman’s fantasy.”
He growled, pulling me into him. “Why is my wife fantasizing about another man?”
I was both turned on and amused, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or moan at the feeling of his body pressing into mine. He was hard and strong, and I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations. We hadn’t had sex again—yet. But Graham had pleasured me almost every night, only letting me return the favor every so often when I insisted.
I didn’t know why I’d been holding out on having sex. If I admitted it to myself, I did know. But I hadn’t been willing to admit it to myself.
Sex complicated things. I was trying to keep some distance between us. I’d promised myself—and Graham—that I wouldn’t fall in love with him. And here I was, doing just that.
How could I not? Graham made it so easy to fall for him. The man was thoughtful and nurturing. He’d taken it upon himself to heat up my bath every night with the electric kettle. He supported my dreams and valued my opinions, often listening to me talk about the chateau for hours. And after his reaction to my alopecia, I didn’t want to hold back anymore.
He spun me so my back was to a tree, his arms caging me in. “Liliana.” His nostrils flared. “Answer me.”
I debated toying with him a little longer, just to see what he’d do. Or maybe he was messing with me. Because who hadn’t heard of Pride and Prejudice ?
“You’re a lot like him, you know. Tall, brooding?—”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Where can I find this Mr. Darcy?”
I started laughing.
“Liliana.” He collared my throat, and everything reduced down to that pulse point. To that point of contact.
I could barely focus on anything but him, but I wanted to tease him a little more. “Have you seriously never read Pride and Prejudice ?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet? One of the greatest love stories of all time.”
He pulled a face, his hand resting over my erratic pulse. “I was always more into chess and gardening. I don’t have much time for pleasure reading, and I’m pretty sure that book wouldn’t make the cut.” Spoken with such disdain.
“It should,” I said, swallowing, feeling his hand move because of it. His eyes darted there then back to mine. “It really should. And gah. ACOTAR and Outlander and Fourth Wing too. Epic love stories, and the heroes…” I sighed.
“Why look to fiction when there are epic love stories that exist in real life?” He slid his hand down my throat, smoothing over my breast.
“Such as…”
“My grandparents, for one.”
“Mm,” I said. “Okay. Unfortunately, I never met them.” Though I had heard stories of their legendary love.
“Prince Albert and Queen Victoria.”
“Your dogs?” I laughed, but it quickly turned into a gasp when he lightly pinched my nipple.
“No. Their namesakes. Their deep commitment and abiding love were admirable. They were all about family and duty.”
My lips curled into a smile. That was really sweet, actually. I’d never known the true reason behind their names, but I’d certainly heard rumors during my time at Huxley.
He tilted his head. “Why do you seem surprised?”
“I’m not, but I know some people who would be.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You know what a Prince Albert piercing is, right?”
He stared at me, aghast. “You thought I named my Irish Wolfhound after a dick piercing?”
“ I didn’t. But, yeah—” I lifted a shoulder. “Others do.” When I’d been working at the Huxley Grand, it had been a joke among the employees.
“And I suppose they think the V in Queen V is for vagina?”
“Vulva, actually.”
He grumbled, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You know,” I said, grabbing his collar and pulling his lips down until they hovered over mine. “I never would’ve guessed you were such a hopeless romantic.”
“And I never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mind.”
I tugged so his ear was close to my lips. “Read some of my favorite books, and then you’ll understand.”
His eyes narrowed into slits. “I don’t like the idea of you thinking of other men—fictional or otherwise.”
I started backing away toward the chateau, raising a brow. “Then I suggest you give me something better to think about.”
His eyes darkened. “Is that a challenge?”
I smirked and lifted a shoulder. And then I turned and walked away, my core heating at the determined expression on his face.