Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“S o, if I’m Mr. Darcy,” Graham said. “Does that mean you admit you’re obstinate and headstrong?”
“What?” I glanced up from my laptop. We were headed back to LA, and I was trying to get some edits done during the flight. I’d done my best to stockpile some content before we’d left so I’d be able to continue my release schedule for my YouStream channel, but I was realizing this was going to be a constant balancing act—living between two countries. Two worlds.
“Elizabeth Bennet,” Graham said. “She’s obstinate and headstrong.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “She thinks for herself, unlike many of the women of her time.”
“I know. It’s what I like about her. Though, she is awfully quick to judge Darcy’s actions.”
Wait. What? I jerked my head back. “Are we seriously discussing Pride and Prejudice right now?”
“Yeah. Keep up.” There was a teasing glint in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I thought you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t have time for pleasure reading, and I’m pretty sure that book wouldn’t make the cut.’” I’d pitched my voice low in a poor attempt to mimic him.
“I listened to it on audiobook at two-times speed one of the days while I stripped the lead paint in the entry hall. And then I started ACOTAR , though Carson had to help me figure that one out.”
I stared at him, mouth agape. “You what?”
“ ACOTAR . A Court of Thorns and Roses . I didn’t realize it was an acronym at first.”
I furrowed my brow. “You listened to them?”
“The audiobooks, yeah. Some people claim it’s not ‘reading,’ but I think that’s bullshit.” He pursed his lips. “It’s also a bit ableist, to be honest.”
“I…uh. Yeah.” Wow.
“The book was better than I’d expected,” he continued, oblivious.
“Which one?” I asked.
“Both.”
I arched my brow. “Interesting.”
“It was. And while I wouldn’t want to go back to the time period of Pride and Prejudice —especially because of what it would mean for women’s rights and equality generally—the idea of set social rules is appealing.”
I smirked, setting my laptop aside. Of course that would appeal to him. Expectations. A societal code of conduct. Still, I couldn’t believe he’d read Pride and Prejudice . Why had he read it?
“Because it’s something you enjoy,” he said, making me realize I’d asked the question aloud.
So sexy. He’d read a book because I’d mentioned how much I loved it? Talk about speaking my love language.
“Do you want to discuss it some more in private?” I arched my brow.
His brief confusion was quickly overcome with understanding. He stood, giving me a wolfish smile. “I’d love to.”
* * *
California sunshine poured through the curtains of Graham’s penthouse. The light was different here, harsher somehow than the mornings at the chateau. The bed was bigger, empty. But when I turned to check the time on my phone, I saw a fresh vase with an arrangement of sunflowers, white roses, and white lilies.
I smiled, thinking back on everything Graham had told me about his gran and the secret language of flowers. I wondered if he’d been trying to send me messages all along.
My mind drifted back to that evening in the field of sunflowers. When he’d told me that lilies could have many meanings, including everlasting love. And he valued sunflowers as symbols of loyalty, strength, and resilience. The next day, I’d downloaded a book on the symbolism of flowers, and I’d pored over it.
I didn’t remember Graham saying anything about white roses. But according to my book, they symbolized anything from loyalty and respect to silence or even eternal love.
I stretched and grabbed my phone, typing out a quick message to thank him, including several red rose emojis to symbolize love, passion, romance, commitment, desire, and devotion. All the things I felt about him.
Graham: Good morning, beautiful wife.
Me: Thank you for the flowers. How early did you leave?
Graham: Early. Needed to get a jump on some stuff before the board meeting. You were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you. Have a good day, mon c?ur.
Me: You too, mon doudou.
I waited for his reaction to my latest pet name. I’d basically called him the French equivalent of “pookie.” He was going to hate it. If only I could see his face right now.
Graham: Try again, mon petit poisson.
I laughed to myself. Now that I knew the meaning behind his pet name, it didn’t bother me as much. It had taken me a while to get it out of him, but Graham admitted that he’d called me mon petit poisson in reference to our conversation about a chemistry test and the fact that Nate had likened kissing Cece Golden to kissing a dead fish.
Graham said that I was the opposite of that. And when he’d realized how much the nickname irked me, he couldn’t help but needle me a little.
I typed out another message. He didn’t like that? We’d see how he felt about being referred to as “doll.”
Me: Ma poupée
Graham: Absolument pas.
A huge smile overtook my face, and I flopped back on the bed. I held up my left hand, admiring my wedding ring, thinking about my husband and how lucky I was. I had a spouse who shared my interests. Who was smart and generous and kindhearted and nurturing. A man who was fluent in French and loved to flirt with me in the language of love. A man who supported my dreams and did everything in his power to make sure they came true.
And to think it had all started because of a business arrangement.
I had some things to take care of for the chateau, but I wanted to see Graham. I needed to see him. We’d both been so busy since returning to LA last week, and he was supposed to play poker with his brothers and Pierce tonight. I’d been invited to hang out with Kendall, Emerson, and Emerson’s twin, Astrid.
I was happy for him to enjoy time with family and friends. And I enjoyed spending time with Kendall and Emerson. But I found myself longing to return to the chateau. Not only to see the progress and work on projects but so I would have Graham all to myself.
I texted Willow my plan for the day then pushed out of bed and padded to the closet, grabbing a wig before heading to the bathroom to get ready. I’d just finished applying my brows, lashes, and wig when my phone rang. Jo’s name flashed across the screen, along with a request to video chat.
I pressed the button to accept the call as I headed toward the closet.
“Ooh, girl. That wig is fire!”
“Thanks.” I fluffed my hair, a new wig that Graham’s stylist Jay Crowe had helped me select. “I call her Genevieve.” I did a sexy little shake.
“Très French,” Jo said. “I approve.” Her jaw dropped. “Wait. Is that a store? Where are you?”
“In my closet,” I said, panning the phone around so she could see it. “Technically, Graham’s and my closet at his penthouse.” I indicated to his suits and shirts, all perfectly pressed and precisely spaced. I smiled.
“One of the many perks of marrying a billionaire, I suppose.” She let out a wistful sigh.
“It is fun to dress up,” I said. I’d always had hand-me-down clothes, never anything new. And certainly not anything that was in style or on-trend, let alone designer. “And look at all these wigs Graham got me.”
“ Graham got them for you?” She coughed. “You told him about your alopecia?”
I returned the camera to my face so I could see my best friend. “I did.” I smiled. “And he was incredible about it. He’s been so supportive and loving and…”
Her eyes widened. “Did you say loving? Did I hear that right?” She gawked at me.
I dipped my head, my cheeks flaming. “Yeah. I guess it’s been a little while since we talked on the phone.” She’d been hosting some retreats and had limited cell phone service. And I’d been so busy—traveling back and forth between LA and France. Focused on Graham and the restoration of the chateau and everything else. “And it wasn’t really the kind of thing I was going to mention over text.”
She leaned forward, eyes intent on the screen. “Tell me everything. ”
I launched into a summary of the past month and a half. When I finished, she asked, “So was I right?”
“About what?”
“Graham being a freak in the sheets.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, doing my best to neither confirm nor deny it.
“That’s a yes,” she said, knowing me too well.
My cheeks heated. “No comment.”
“Mm-hmm.” She wagged her finger at me. “I knew there was something there. That kiss at your wedding?—”
“You mean our first kiss?”
Her eyes bugged out. “ That was your first kiss? The one at the altar?”
I tried not to laugh at her expression. “Yeah.”
I thought back to the kiss at our wedding. To the way our bodies had come together, silencing my doubts, the world.
“Ballsy.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I remember thinking I needed to fan myself because that was one hell of a kiss.”
“I know,” I sighed. “I remember you asking me later that day, ‘Are you sure this is fake?’”
She laughed and so did I. It seemed like so much time had passed since then. So much had happened.
“I’m glad it’s going so well. But—” She chewed on the end of her pen.
“But what?” I asked, bracing myself.
She sliced a hand through the air. “Nothing. Never mind.”
I frowned. “What aren’t you saying?”
“It’s just…” She sighed. “The two of you had an agreement , right? And I understand that feelings change, but where does that fit in with all of this ?” She circled the air with the end of her pen, likely drawing a ring around my face on her screen.
“I—” I opened my mouth then closed it. I didn’t know what to say. Jo was right.
“Oh, Lil.” She frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to burst your bubble. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You deserve to be happy. You deserve someone supportive and loving. And if that’s Graham, awesome. But you have to admit that the agreement muddies the waters a bit.”
I didn’t disagree, but I hadn’t wanted to confront the truth of it.
A text came in from Willow, confirming the time I wanted to leave.
I blew out a breath. “I have to go. I’m meeting Graham for lunch.”
“Lil.” She frowned. “Don’t?—”
“I’m not mad at you. I’ll think about what you said, but I have to go or I’ll be late.”
“Okay. For all I know, I could be wrong. Either way, I’m here for you. And we can always talk about it more over the phone or when I see you in a few weeks.”
Right. I couldn’t believe it was already almost time for les Journées du patrimoine .
“Thanks, Jo,” I said before we ended the call.
I dressed quickly, choosing a dress with a floral design. My mind immediately started cataloguing the flowers and their meanings. Now that Graham had told me about the symbolism behind flowers, I saw them everywhere.
Willow and I headed to Graham’s office. He had another board meeting today. I hadn’t heard anything more about the board’s thoughts on our “inappropriate relationship” or their attempts to invalidate the clause in the will, though I knew legal challenges took time.
For now, I was going to focus on being supportive. On showing Graham that I was there for him. And reminding the board that I wasn’t going anywhere. Regardless of whatever bullshit they tried to pull, I was here to stay.
“Hey, Carson,” I said, stopping at his desk.
“Mrs. Mackenzie.” He jumped up. “I didn’t realize?—”
I waved him away. “It’s fine. I already checked Graham’s calendar, and I know he doesn’t have any meetings scheduled for lunch.” The perks of being his former assistant.
“You’re—” He shook his head, brow furrowed. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“Also, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Lily?” When he hesitated, I gave him a stern look.
“Yes. Of course. Mrs.… Lily.”
I laughed as I knocked on the door to Graham’s office. He glanced up from his computer, the corner of his mouth tilting into a grin. “Hey. This is a pleasant surprise.”
I smiled, shutting the door behind me. “I know you have a busy afternoon, but I thought we could review some decisions for the chateau.”
It was all a pretext. I didn’t need his opinion on the chateau or even lunch, for that matter. I needed him. I needed to know that this was real. That our feelings, our relationship, would last.
He stood, rounding the desk to greet me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “The chateau, huh?” Graham asked, brow arched. “What could you possibly need my help with?”
I palmed him over his pants. “I have some hard decisions to make. And you are very experienced with these types of matters.” It was totally cheesy, but he didn’t seem to mind.
He somehow maintained a straight face when he responded. “I am. I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging the benefit of my knowledge. I would be happy to lend you my experience. ” He angled his hips against mine, letting me feel his arousal as he slid his hand up to cup my breast.
“Good.” I bit back a smile. “That’s good. Because I could definitely,” I gasped, “use it.” I pressed against him, needing him closer.
“Yeah?” He kissed my neck, and I tried not to moan.
“Yes.” My voice was breathy.
He twisted some of my hair around his fingers. “I like this one. Is she new?” he asked, referring to my wig.
I nodded, looping my arms around his neck. “It’s one of the nicest wigs I’ve ever owned. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. What’s her name?”
“Genevieve.”
“ Elle est jolie, mais c’est toi la plus belle .” She’s pretty, but you’re the most beautiful.
My cheeks heated at his compliment. “ Merci, mon préféré.”
“I’m your favorite?” he asked. “Your favorite what?”
“My favorite husband.”
“I better be your only husband.” He glared at me, clutching my hips.
I laughed. So serious. “Favorite and only, yes. My favorite, and only—” I kissed his jawline “—lover. My favorite person.” I placed my hand over his heart.
His expression softened. “I’m your favorite person?”
I nodded.
“Okay.” His tone turned teasing. “What do you want?”
I tilted my head. “What do I want?” I didn’t understand.
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “You’re clearly buttering me up for something. What is it—more time at the chateau? Because I’m planning to speak with Jasper and Sloan about spending an extra week there for les Journées du patrimoine .”
“You are?”
“I am,” he said.
I smoothed my hands down his lapels. “You know I’d still love you even if you didn’t do anything for me, right? This might sound ironic or even hypocritical, considering our arrangement, but I love you because of who you are. Not what you can do for me.”
His stare was intense. So intense that I worried I’d pissed him off, but then his shoulders relaxed.
“Even so,” he said. “I like helping.”
I was beginning to suspect it was his love language—acts of service. Graham was always doing something for someone else. I wanted to show him that he was important. I wanted to make him feel as special as he’d made me feel.
“It’s my turn to help you with something for a change,” I said, backing him toward his chair. I was determined to prove that my love for him had nothing to do with our agreement or the twenty million dollars.
“Oh yeah?” He arched one eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
“I know how stressed you’ve been lately,” I said, smoothing my hands over his shoulders then unbuckling his belt. “Dealing with the board. Straddling two worlds.”
“Mm.” He dragged his thumb along his bottom lip, watching me. “I’ll give you something to straddle.”
“Later.” I smirked, kneeling before him, freeing him from his trousers. His cock bobbed toward me. I’d never done anything like this, but the idea that we were in his office and I was going to suck him off beneath his desk sent a rush of desire straight to my core.
“Right now—” I kissed his tip, and he jerked in my hand “—is about you. You give and you give and you give. I want to give you something.”
He cradled my chin in his hand, his hold firm yet full of tenderness. “I have everything I could ever want, mon c?ur .” His green eyes were darkened with lust but also love too. And warmth.
“Oh, so…” My eyes darted to his cock, the head hard and insistent, a drop of precome leaking from the tip. “You don’t want me to suck you off?”
A muscle in his neck twitched. “I didn’t say that, did I?”
I laughed, bending down to take him in my mouth, ignoring the trill of a phone ringing outside. He groaned, gripping the edges of his chair. “Fuck, Lil. Your mouth feels so good wrapped around my cock.”
I kept going, teasing him with my mouth and my hands. Wanting to make him lose control. Wanting to give him a release.
“Tu es tellement belle ,” he coaxed, telling me how beautiful I was. “On your knees for me.” His touch was gentle despite the bite to his words.
“Mm.” I took him deep, humming around him. My clit was aching, my core throbbing with need. I squirmed, desperately trying to rub my thighs together.
“Fuck,” he rasped, deep and low. “Fuck,” he hissed. “I love seeing you on your knees for me, but I want to come inside you.” He grabbed my wrists and pulled me to a standing position.
“Yes,” I gasped. “Yes. I want that too.”
His eyes darkened. I knew we were being reckless, but I was desperate for him.
He stood and kissed me, turning me so my back was to him. Even now, even when we should be rushed, he was tender. Loving.
He lifted my skirt then groaned when he realized I wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. He palmed my ass, his skin warm against mine.
“Mm. Is this a fantasy of yours?” he asked in a dark voice. “Having your boss bend you over his desk and fuck you?”
“I would say yes, but you’re my husband.” I smiled at him over my shoulder. “ Not my boss.”
“But you like it when I tell you what to do,” he taunted, reaching around to tease my clit, his long, elegant fingers sliding through my folds.
I whimpered. Oh god. “Oui.”
This was insane. And yet, I’d never felt more alive.
Higher and higher, I climbed, until I was teetering on the edge. My desire was coiled tight, my body primed to explode.
“Lache-toi.” His deep voice caressed me, telling me to let go. And I was powerless to resist, especially when he spoke in French.
It was as if I’d been waiting for his permission. His command.
After that, my orgasm came on quickly, barreling through me like a runaway train. Hard. Fast. Powerful. I was still feeling the aftershocks of it when he pulled out of me and gave my ass a slap.
“Turn around,” he commanded. I turned to face him, and he picked me up and planted me on the desk. “Wrap your arms around my neck, and don’t let go.”
I marveled at the sight of him in his suit. So buttoned-up and yet so unrestrained. Such a man of contradictions and hidden facets.
“Was this your fantasy?” I grasped his tie, wrapping it gently around my wrist and pulling so that his lips met mine.
“You are my every fantasy,” he said. “Mon rêve. Mon amour. L’exception à toutes mes règles.”
His kisses, like his words, were a balm to my soul. I was his dream. His love. The exception to all his rules.
My heart swelled at his admission, at all the ways this man showed me he loved me. From flowers laden with symbolism to words of love and so many big and small acts of service that I’d lost count. I’d never felt more cherished or wanted.
“Je t’aime.” I kissed him, wanting him to feel my love for him, my desire. “Prends-moi. Je suis à toi.” Take me. I’m yours.
I released his tie and shifted a little, both of us watching as he eased himself inside me inch by glorious inch. When he was fully seated, I groaned. “This is so much better than any fantasy.”
“Mm.” He pulled aside my dress, kissing my collarbone. “Tell me more about your fantasies.”
“Most of them involved marching in here and telling you what to do.”
“And what—” he dragged his nose along my ear, my cheek, my jawline “—would you have told me to do?”
“This,” I said, embracing the moment, dwelling in the fantasy. “This,” I sighed as he continued to pump into me in slow, lazy thrusts. “Fill me. Take me. Make me yours.”
“You are mine,” he said, lifting our left hands, lacing his fingers with mine and showing off our wedding rings.
“And you’re mine.”
He grunted, picking up his pace. We were racing toward the finish line when I heard someone say, “Oh god. Oh shit.”
Graham cupped the back of my head and pressed my forehead to his chest. My eyes widened. Jasper? Was that Jasper’s voice?
Oh my god. He’d…
“Get out!” Graham bellowed with a murderous look in his eyes. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Now!”
I cringed and dropped my head to his chest, beyond mortified. The orgasm I’d been chasing had evaporated faster than water in the desert. The door closed with a snick, and I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
I righted my dress, contemplating the scene Jasper had walked in on. It could’ve been worse. I could’ve been facing the door while Graham fucked me from behind as he had earlier.
I groaned, looking at the floor. Nope. This was still completely mortifying.
“You okay?” Graham asked, tucking himself back into his pants.
“Your brother just walked in on us having sex in your office in the middle of the workday.” I covered my face with my hands. “I’ll never be able to face him again,” I mumbled the words into my palms. There was only one solution. I was going to have to change my name and disappear.
“Carson should’ve stopped Jasper—or, at the very least, warned me.” Graham moved as if to march toward the door.
I placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t. It will only make things worse.”
“I should fire him for this. I would fire my brother if I could.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Jasper is too big of an asset. And don’t take it out on Carson. From what I can tell, he’s a good assistant.”
Graham grunted. “I suppose you’re right.”
“That said, this is not going to help the rumors about us.”
“You’re looking at this the wrong way,” Graham said, rubbing my arms. “For anyone who had doubts about our relationship, we’ve now effectively dispatched them.”
“Not. Helping,” I ground out.
And while I knew he was joking, part of me worried that there was a kernel of truth in those words. Worried that even though Graham was teasing, he wasn’t all that upset about being caught because it supported the narrative he was trying to build.
I didn’t like that I was even questioning Graham’s motives where I was concerned, but a lifetime of living with my family, coupled with Jo’s comments earlier, had given me pause. I understood why she was concerned, and I appreciated that she was looking out for me. But Jo and I hadn’t talked in weeks, and she didn’t know my husband like I did.
Graham was merely trying to comfort me. Besides, I was the one who’d initiated this. He hadn’t asked me to come to his office. He hadn’t even known I was coming.
But deep down, I worried that Jo was right. And whether she was or she wasn’t, I hated that I even had to consider the agreement and how it factored into our relationship.