11. Edward #3
"Sugar, I know exactly what it is," she interrupted, her Texas drawl more pronounced in the early morning quiet. "I'm not some naive little thing who doesn't understand the score."
The pain in her voice cut deeper than I'd expected.
This wasn't how I'd imagined beginning a relationship—skulking in shadows, measuring every glance, treating what felt revolutionary as something shameful. But with the acquisition looming and Mother's watchful eyes tracking every interaction, we had no choice.
"It's not that I'm ashamed—"
"I know what it is," she said softly. "Trust me, Edward, I understand exactly how much trouble this could cause. For both of us."
Her understanding somehow made it worse. I crossed the space between us, my shoes leaving dark prints in the dew-soaked grass, unable to resist touching her face, memorizing the way the dawn light caught in her eyes.
"Until this acquisition is finalized and I can figure out how to protect your position, we have to be careful," I said. "I won't let you become collateral damage in my family's schemes."
She leaned into my touch, and I felt some of the tension ease from my shoulders. "So what do we do?"
"We meet here, at dawn. The conservatory after midnight when the house is asleep. The old folly by the lake when the weather permits." I'd spent hours mapping the estate's blind spots, calculating sight lines and staff schedules like I was planning a military operation.
I'd memorized the staff schedules, knew that Mrs. Worthington didn't begin her morning rounds until seven, that the groundskeepers avoided the folly on Wednesdays.
Every meeting was choreographed with the precision of a legal brief, because discovery would mean losing everything we'd fought to protect. "And we wait."
"Wait for what?"
"For me to find a way to make this work."
I'd already begun the delicate process of negotiating Lili's future, though she didn't know it yet.
The morning after our confrontation, I'd cornered Malcolm in his office with a proposal that had taken me hours to craft.
I'd approached protecting Lili like the most complex case of my career, building arguments layer by layer, creating paper trails that would justify her retention without revealing personal interest.
Every document was crafted to withstand scrutiny from Malcolm, from Mother, from anyone who might question my motivations.
"I want to add a retention clause to the Gardens & Home acquisition," I'd said, spreading modified documents across his mahogany desk.
Malcolm had looked up from his Financial Times with the expression of a man accustomed to unusual requests from his most valuable associate. "What sort of retention clause?"
"Key personnel protection. Specifically, we identify critical talent within the organization and ensure their transition to new roles within our media holdings.
" The words came out steady and professional, though every syllable felt like a lie.
I was advocating for the woman I loved while pretending she meant nothing more than efficient resource allocation.
"We don't have media holdings, Edward."
"We will. I've been researching acquisition targets in lifestyle programming. Small networks, digital platforms, companies that could benefit from someone with proven audience engagement skills."
Malcolm had studied the papers I'd prepared, his silver eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. "This is quite comprehensive. When did you have time to research all this?"
"I've been working on it for weeks." The lie came easily, though in truth I'd spent every spare moment since our first night together building this proposal. "The American host—Lili Anderton—has remarkable sales instincts. Waste like that is inefficient."
"Inefficient," Malcolm repeated slowly. "And yet you've never shown such personal interest in personnel retention before. In fact, I believe your usual position is that emotional attachments to staff complicate business decisions unnecessarily."
If Malcolm discovered my personal interest in Lili's welfare, it wouldn't just end my involvement in the acquisition—it could destroy my reputation entirely.
Conflicts of interest were career-ending in our world, and emotional compromise was seen as the worst kind of professional weakness.
"This is different," I said carefully. "The talent is exceptional, and the potential return on investment significant."
He'd agreed to consider the proposal, which was more than I'd dared hope for. But the negotiations were delicate, requiring me to advocate for Lili without revealing the true nature of my interest. Every conversation was a careful dance around the truth.
Meanwhile, our stolen moments had become the highlights of increasingly complicated days. We met in shadows and empty rooms, learning each other in fragments.
I discovered that Lili hummed unconsciously when she was content, usually old country songs her Mother had sung while cooking.
She learned that I kept a volume of poetry hidden behind legal texts in my study—Yeats, whose romantic idealism had always seemed impractical until I found myself living it.
Every conversation felt like a minefield. Every glance between Lili and me at dinner could be scrutinized for meaning. I found myself cataloguing facial expressions, measuring the duration of casual touches, calculating the risk in every stolen smile.
"This is crazy," she'd whispered one midnight as we sat in the conservatory, her head on my shoulder while exotic flowers perfumed the air around us. Moonlight filtered through the glass ceiling, casting intricate patterns across her skin.
"Completely," I'd agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Worth it?"
"Ask me when we don't have to hide anymore."
But hiding was becoming increasingly difficult.
The house seemed smaller somehow, filled with eyes that might notice too much.
Mother had taken to making pointed observations about the "improved color in your cheeks, darling" and Daphne kept asking why I was suddenly so interested in estate maintenance, since she'd spotted me near the folly multiple times.
Most concerning was James, whose lawyer instincts were beginning to surface in uncomfortable ways.
"You're different," he'd said yesterday, settling into the chair across from my desk with the casual confidence of our twenty-year friendship.
"Different how?"
"Distracted. Secretive. Last week you forgot about the Morrison deposition entirely—something that's never happened in the decade I've known you.
" His hazel eyes had been sharp with curiosity.
"And then there's the interesting pattern of your billing hours.
Sixty percent more research time on a routine acquisition, multiple consultations with employment law specialists, and at least three calls to headhunters specializing in media talent. All for a simple corporate buyout."
"I've been having trouble sleeping."
"Right. And I'm sure your insomnia has nothing to do with the way you keep checking your phone for messages or the fact that you've been researching media companies with the dedication of a man possessed."
James had always been too observant for comfort. Where others saw my professional facade, he noticed the tells that betrayed deeper currents.
The way my jaw tensed when Mother mentioned Lili at dinner. The careful neutrality of my tone when discussing the transition timeline. The fact that I'd been working from the estate more often, finding excuses to remain close to home.
"You're investigating something," he'd continued. "Or someone. The question is whether it's related to business or personal matters."
"Can't it be both?"
"That's what worries me."
This morning's near-miss had only reinforced my growing paranoia.
Lili and I had been in the old drawing room—a space rarely used by family but perfect for clandestine meetings—when we'd heard footsteps in the corridor.
She'd barely had time to slip behind the heavy curtains before Daphne had entered, looking for a book she'd apparently left there weeks ago.
"Edward? What are you doing here so early?"
"Reviewing contracts," I'd said, gesturing to the papers I'd scattered across the writing desk as camouflage. "The light is better in here."
Daphne had studied me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "You've been working a lot lately. More than usual, I mean."
"The Morrison case is demanding."
"Mmm." She'd found her book—some romance novel with an embarrassingly explicit cover—and headed toward the door. But she'd paused at the threshold, turning back with a smile that seemed almost knowing. "By the way, have you seen Lili this morning? I wanted to discuss the charity luncheon with her."
"I believe she mentioned going for a walk."
"In her dressing gown? How odd. I could have sworn I saw her coming from the direction of the rose garden just now. But perhaps I was mistaken." Her smile was sharp as crystal. "After all, what would she be doing in the gardens so early? Unless she was meeting someone."
My blood had gone cold. "I wouldn't know what she's wearing."
"Of course not." Daphne's smile had widened.
"It's funny," she mused, still lingering in the doorway.
"Lili mentioned she's been having trouble sleeping lately.
Restless nights, you know. I suggested she try chamomile tea, but she said she'd found other ways to tire herself out.
" Her eyes glittered with mischief. "Exercise, perhaps. "
After she'd left, Lili had emerged from behind the curtains looking shaken. "She knows something."
"She suspects. There's a difference."
"Edward, maybe we should—"
"No." I'd pulled her into my arms, needing the reassurance of her warmth against me. "We're careful. We're discreet. And soon this will all be over."
The ease with which I'd lied to my own sister left a bitter taste in my mouth.
When had I become someone who could deceive family without hesitation?
When had protecting Lili begun to require sacrificing pieces of my own integrity?
But even as I'd said the words, I'd wondered if I was being naively optimistic.
The transition was moving forward on schedule, my retention proposal was still under review by the Home Office, and the pressure of maintaining our secret was beginning to show strain around the edges of our carefully constructed normalcy.
Now, as I sat in my study reviewing the latest modifications to Lili's employment terms, I heard familiar footsteps approaching.
The same night, James knocked once before entering—a courtesy that had eroded over the years of our friendship.
"Working late again?" he asked, settling into his usual chair.
"The Morrison case—"
"Is resolved. Has been for two days." James leaned forward, his expression serious.
"Edward, I know you think I don't notice things, but I've been watching you for weeks.
The secret phone calls, the modified schedule, the way you've been treating this Gardens & Home acquisition like it's the most important case of your career. "
I kept my expression neutral, though my pulse had begun to race. "It's a significant transaction."
"It's routine corporate acquisition. The sort of thing you could handle in your sleep.
" James stood, moving to the window that overlooked the estate grounds.
"Which makes me wonder why you've been so invested in the outcome.
And why you've been spending so much time ensuring the continued employment of one particular American television host? "
The words hit like a punch. I'd been so careful, so discreet in my negotiations. But James had always been skilled at reading between the lines of legal documents.
"I don't know what you're implying."
"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating facts." He turned back to face me, and there was something like sympathy in his expression. "The question is whether you're going to trust me with the truth, or whether I'm going to have to figure it out on my own."
Before I could respond, he'd moved to my desk, his attention caught by the acquisition files I'd left open. His eyes scanned the documents with the practiced efficiency of someone trained to spot anomalies.
"Addition terms," he read aloud, picking up the folder marked with red ink. "Employment guarantees, position transfers, media division expansion." He looked up at me with dawning understanding. "Edward, what exactly have you done?"
The moment stretched between us, heavy with implications that could destroy everything I'd worked to protect.
In his hands, James held the evidence of every accommodation I'd negotiated, every string I'd pulled, every professional risk I'd taken to ensure Lili's future.
His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Edward, this isn't just professional courtesy. This is a man in love making very expensive mistakes to protect someone."
And from the expression on his face, I could see that he understood exactly what it all meant.