Chapter 61
James
"There was a breach in my team. The junior associate responsible has been summarily dismissed and struck off. I’m filing a civil suit for damages and a criminal complaint for theft of protected data. I’ll ensure he never holds so much as a fountain pen in this city again."
Tristan taps his knuckles on the desk for emphasis.
I left Henrik in charge of the kitchen while Tristan, my wife, and I adjourned to my office at The Edge.
Dinner prep is yet to be completed, but given the kind of day we’ve had, I figure we all need a shot of something more sustaining than nonalcoholic liquids.
"And Miller?" I pour whiskey into a tumbler and place one in front of him.
I asked Harper if she wanted a glass of wine, but she opted for water.
"The video is down. He’ll sign an NDA to never to talk about this again. He’ll also issue an apology, return any physical proof he has of the arrangement, and delete any virtual copies. He’ll also leave the country.” He looks very pleased with himself.
“And we’re not paying him?”
“Not a dime. We’re also suing him for a million pounds. By the time I’m done with him, he’ll wish he hadn’t been born.” Tristan bares his teeth.
His expression is that of a predator who has enjoyed a very satisfying lunch.
He must have found something hugely damaging in Miller’s past for him to agree to everything.
Not that I care how he pulled it off.
Man’s an absolute shark. Hard to believe he’s older than me, when I’m the one who feels exhausted inside.
"He needs to refute what he said." I drag my fingers through my hair.
"Only it was true." Harper firms her jaw.
She’s seated in the chair opposite me at my desk.
Why isn’t she next to me? That’s where I want her.
"You won over the brigade." A ghost of a smile touches her lips before it fades. "But the rest of the world knows that our marriage was one of convenience."
"She’s right." My uncle’s tone implies it pains him to agree.
I crack my neck from side to side. Thrice.
There’s truth in what they say. I’m aware that what’s done can’t be undone. It makes me feel so fucking helpless that, despite my best efforts, this will impact her.
"It may have started out as an arrangement, but it’s more now," I growl.
She looks at me with an unreadable look in her eyes. "Is it?"
The fact that she's questioning it at all lands like a fist to my sternum. I allowed doubt to exist in her mind.
I tuck my elbows, trying to contain what's rising in my chest. I cannot even name it; that is how far outside of myself I am right now.
I want to stand up in front of the world and tell everyone she's mine. Not because of a contract. Because I chose her. Because I keep choosing her.
I haven’t found the words to tell her so because I'm afraid of being vulnerable.
I feel her withdrawing from me. Feel her disappointment.
Yet all I can do is sit here, jaw locked, expression controlled, completely falling apart on the inside.
Is it too late? Have I held back so long that she's already decided not to give us a chance?
Tristan clears his throat.
"She’s right, again. The damage has been done. And while the video is down, it’s been screen recorded enough times to do the rounds online. The good news is this, too, shall fade away. But in the meantime, you’re going to have to weather it out."
I firm my lips. "I will not accept that. I must ensure that the fallout from this will not affect Harper’s reputation."
I want to tell her how I really feel, but the words stick in my throat.
The restraint I've spent a lifetime building, the same one that helps keep my OCD in check, that got me through being adopted, through loss, through war, has its teeth in me.
It does not know the difference between keeping me safe and keeping me from her.
She watches me closely. And when she swallows hard, I know, she senses the battle inside of me.
She’s disappointed that I’m not saying anything more. I sense her retreat. She picks up her phone, peruses it, then frowns. “The video has certainly affected bookings at The Edge."
She holds up her phone.
I lean over and take in the cancellations over the next week…and month and further. For a restaurant which is always booked for months, we’re looking very thin.
"It’s a temporary blip. They’ll come back." I want to reach over and touch her, but the vibe she’s giving off borders on aloof, so I stop myself. "The food speaks for itself. No matter what the owner’s reputation is.”
“That may be so. But you and the restaurant need to survive in the short term."
Her gaze intensifies. Her chest rises and falls. She looks at me with a plea, with need, with love in her eyes.
She loves me.
The realization dawns, not as a shock, but like soothing summer rain flowing over me, and heals a gaping hole in my soul I didn’t realize I had.
My shoulders muscles bunch. I grit my teeth and feel the veins on my neck pop. I’m so frustrated with myself. So fucking angry that I’m losing the woman who means everything to me, and despite knowing where I’m going wrong, I’m unable to put it right.
The pulse pounds in my ears. My thoughts threaten to spiral out of control. How I wish I could show her the affection she deserves. How I want to bare myself to her, so she can experience the feelings I have for her.
Despair lashes through me.
Every part of me wants to take her in my arms and make her understand that nothing about what I feel for her is convenient. That it feels completely alien to me. That it threatens my equilibrium. My control. It undoes me.
But I stay still. And I say nothing.
And I hate myself for it.
I feel her steeling herself to leave the restaurant.
To leave me.
My chest seems to have turned into a block of ice.
I feel like I’m underwater. Sinking by degrees. Unable to save myself.
I was sure I could talk her out of leaving, but the look in her eyes tells me I may be too late.
Tristan clears his throat. “You should take what Miller’s offering.”
I forgot my uncle was in the room.
I manage to get myself together long enough to ask her, “What do you think?”
Surprise flickers on her features before they close further. "Let Tristan wrangle the best possible apology from him. Let’s put this to rest and move on."
I hold her gaze for a few seconds more, then turn to Tristan and nod.
"Good." He rises to his feet. “I’ll be in touch."
He heads out of the office.
For a few seconds, neither of us speaks.
Then she grips the arm of her chair, a cold expression on her face. “No matter how much you deny it, all people will remember is that our marriage is a sham.”
I can’t let her think that. I can’t. "It’s not a sham." I round the desk and lean a hip against it, next to her.
She stiffens. Hope blooms on her face. She tips up her chin and stares into my eyes. "Are you saying you love me?"
I sensed it earlier, but to hear her say it feels like a bomb went off in my chest. It also feels right. And that…scares me more.
The pulse booms in my ears. My thoughts feel like they’re spiraling out of control.
I want to say yes. I do.
That I want her by my side. That without her, my life seems empty. I want to share it with her. I want her laughter, her smiles, her little sounds when she’s aroused to fill my heart and soul. I want. Her. That she’s mine. Only mine.
But when I open my mouth, the words don’t emerge. There’s a boulder on my chest stopping me from speaking.
I’m a fucking coward is what I am. I’m afraid that if I say those three words, it’ll change my life forever.
And then, there won’t be any going back. I’ll have made myself vulnerable. I’ll have handed my power to her. She could hurt me. Destroy me. And fuck, this is a pain that I won’t be able to bear. So, I stay silent.
Her features crumple. Disappointment filters into her face. "That’s what I thought."
She rises to her feet and heads over to the safe I have in the corner of the office. I shared the combination with her earlier, so she could access the recipe books I keep in there.
What is she doing?
She opens the safe, pulls out a sheaf of papers from it, then turns and walks over to me.
I realize it’s the marriage agreement we both signed.
The hair on the back of my neck rises. A cold sensation grips my chest. No, surely not. She wouldn’t.
She walks toward me.
With each step she takes, the band around my chest tightens.
She reaches my desk and slides the stack over. The whisper of the paper sounds like a gavel in the quiet of the office.
"I’ve kept up my end of the deal. You’ve got your inheritance. And your investors didn’t pull their money. No doubt, you’ll also find a way to convince them otherwise after this last fiasco."
I curl my fingers around the arms of my chair, refusing to accept what she’s hinting at.
"I’m returning your agreement. I think we should get divorced."
The world tilts off its axis. There’s a ringing in my ears. "What are you talking about?"
"I thought I could handle this." She swallows "But I can't. Every day I stay in this; I’m just waiting for a version of you that might never show up.
It's starting to hurt too much to pretend, James. And I realized…I don’t want to settle for 'good enough.
' I want the whole thing. I think I deserve that. "
"You do." I reach for her hand, needing to touch her, but she steps back.
The distance feels like a physical blow.
My chest feels like my heart has been scooped out of it. I taste copper at the back of my mouth. There is a hollowness in my gut that has nothing to do with hunger.
She can’t do this. I won’t let her do this. How can I live without her? I manage to piece my thoughts together enough to say, "Harper, plenty of people have marriages like this. They work. They last a lifetime."
"Maybe they do." For the first time she looks at me with a kind of sad clarity.
"But I don't want to just last. When we made this deal, I was desperate.
I just wanted a roof over my niece's head and for my sister to finally have a break. I’d do it all again for them…
but not like this. Not if the price is giving up on ever being loved back.
I have to find another way to take care of them that doesn't leave me empty. "
She takes a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to her hands.
"I’m grateful to you for clearing my debts. It’s the only reason I’m even brave enough to walk away."
I want to step closer but respect the space she’s put between us.
"Then use that freedom. We can make this whatever you want, Harper. You’re a brilliant chef." My voice drops an octave. "Stay, and I’ll put you in charge of your own kitchen within the year. You won’t have to struggle ever again."
Determination flickers in her eyes.
"I’d get there on my own. It might take longer, and it might be harder, but it would be mine."
I shake my head, refusing to let her go.
"I know you will. I’m just trying to give you the headstart you deserve."
"But at what cost? I can’t spend my nights pining for a man who treats me like a line item in a budget. It’s not worth it if I’m falling in love with a ghost who’s never going to love me back."
The air leaves my lungs. The kitchen, the brigade, the scandal, all of it fades from my mind. My pulse rate accelerates. The sound deafening in my ears.
"Hold on. Are you saying you love me?"