2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Ophelia
The bedroom door opened shortly before dawn.
Ophelia lay still as Gideon stepped inside.
The lamp on her dressing table gave off enough light for her to see his loosened tie and the tired set of his shoulders.
He had taken off his suit jacket somewhere downstairs.
His white shirt was creased at the elbows, which meant the night had been bad.
Or important. With Gideon, the two often meant the same thing.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.
“You didn’t.”
He looked at the clock, then at her. “Have you slept?”
“A little.”
That was easier than telling him she had watched the light change along the curtains while his empty chair in the ballroom stayed fixed in her mind.
Gideon sat on the edge of the bed. His black hair had fallen out of place, and the scar through his left eyebrow looked sharper when he was tired.
He touched her cheek, then leaned down and kissed her forehead.
The simple affection hurt more than it should have.
Ophelia turned her face into his palm anyway.
“How much did the ball raise?” he asked.
Not how did your speech go? Money. A result he understood.
“We raised substantial support,” she said. “Enough to keep the next stage moving.”
“Good.” His thumb moved once beneath her eye. “If there’s a shortfall, tell me. The Foundation can cover it.”
“There isn’t a shortfall.”
“Then you had a successful evening.”
“Yes.”
He gave her a tired smile. “I knew you would.”
She waited. He didn’t ask anything else.
Gideon bent to remove his shoes. “I’m sorry I missed it. The expansion model had a bad conflict buried in it.”
“Simone told me.”
“She caught the pattern before anyone else did. Good instincts. Most people in a new role would’ve kept quiet until they were certain.”
There it was again. That clear note of respect. He sounded tired, but he also sounded interested.
Ophelia couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken about her work that way. She hated the thought as soon as it formed. Simone was talented. Gideon was allowed to notice. Ophelia had recommended her because she wanted people to notice.
“She’s always been good at seeing what other people miss,” Ophelia said.
“So are you. Hiring her was your idea.”
The praise should have pleased her. Instead, it felt like a thank you for delivering him the right employee.
Gideon set his shoes aside and looked at her. “Are you angry?”
This was the opening. She could tell him about the empty chair, Larry’s remark, and the message that had said more about Simone’s success than her own.
His eyes were red with exhaustion.
“I’m disappointed,” she said.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
His expression changed. Only a little, but she saw him become more alert. “I said I was sorry.”
“You did.”
Ophelia hated how quickly she began to soften her own voice. He was home. He was touching her. He was sorry in the only way he knew how to be at this hour.
“Have dinner with me tonight,” she said.
“We have dinner most nights.”
“We occupy the same dining room. That isn’t always the same thing.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “A harsh review of my company.”
“Your company usually includes your phone.”
“Then I’ll dismiss it for the evening.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Dinner. Just us. I’ll be home.”
“Should I ask for that in writing?”
“My word used to be enough.”
The humor left her before she could stop it.
Gideon watched her for a beat. “It will be tonight.”
Hope came back so fast that Ophelia felt foolish for ever losing it. “All right,” she said.
“All right,” he responded.
He kissed her forehead again, then went to take a shower. By the time he returned, Ophelia had closed her eyes. She felt the mattress shift under his weight. His hand settled at her waist with the easy claim of long habit.
***
The Hale Global logo on Ophelia’s badge caught the light as she pressed it to the turnstile inside Hale Tower.
Not Threshold. HALE GLOBAL appeared in large blue letters.
A smaller line under it identified the Foundation.
Anyone looking at the badge would know whose building she entered and whose permission opened the gate.
Ophelia told herself it was only a logo.
She spent the first part of her workday answering follow-up messages from the ball and reviewing the final Canal Works transfer packet.
Hale had promised the property to Threshold, but the transfer wasn’t complete.
Gideon’s signature was the last thing she needed before the next stage could move ahead.
She took the packet to the executive floor.
Glass walls divided the open space from Gideon’s office. The city looked pale beyond them. Simone sat outside his door with two screens in front of her and a phone against her ear. She lifted one finger when she saw Ophelia, finished the call, and stood.
“You look far too polished for someone who was awake half the night,” Simone said.
“You look pleased with yourself for someone who ruined my evening,” Ophelia said.
Simone’s smile vanished.
Ophelia immediately regretted the joke. “That came out wrong.”
“No, it came out honest.”
“It wasn’t your fault, of course.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry Gideon missed it.” Simone nodded toward the packet. “What do you need?”
“Gideon’s signature on the final Canal Works papers. I also need to explain where we are before he signs.”
Simone glanced through the glass. Gideon sat at the far end of a table with several executives. He didn’t look toward the door.
“He has meetings stacked through the afternoon,” she said.
“I need five minutes.”
“Let me take the papers in.”
Ophelia tightened her hold on the packet. “I’d rather give them to him myself.”
“Of course.” Simone opened his calendar. “I can protect fifteen minutes for you after your Canal Works site visit.”
Ophelia stared at her. “Fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll make sure he finds time for you.”
For you. Her college friend was offering to find her a small space inside her husband’s schedule. She was his executive assistant, this was her job, but still… It felt wrong. It unmoored Ophelia.
Simone seemed to hear the words after she had said them. “Ophelia, I didn’t mean…”
“I know what you meant.”
“If I interrupt him now, he’ll rush you. I don’t want him to do that.”
That was thoughtful. It was also humiliating.
“Put me down for fifteen minutes,” Ophelia said.
Simone entered the appointment. “Done. And he asked me to keep tonight clear.”
Ophelia looked past her at Gideon. He had turned toward one of the executives and was asking a question. His focus was complete.
“We’re having dinner,” she said.
“I know.”
Of course she knew. Simone knew when Gideon would eat, when he would be free, and when his wife might be allowed through the glass door of his office. Ophelia hated herself for noticing.
“Thank you,” she said.
***
At lunch that day, Juliet listened without interrupting until Ophelia finished describing the fifteen-minute appointment she’d barely managed to book with her own husband. Then she set down her fork.
“Do you hear yourself?”
“Constantly,” Ophelia sighed. “It’s exhausting.”
“You needed an appointment with your husband,” her sister emphasized.
“I needed an appointment with the CEO of Hale Global.”
“Are they different people?”
“At work? Yes.”
Juliet leaned back in her chair. The small restaurant near Hale Tower was crowded, but her voice remained calm.
“You carried important papers to his office, and another woman decided when he could see you.”
“Simone manages his calendar. That is her job.”
“Defending everyone in this story seems to be yours.”
Ophelia’s hand tightened around her water glass. “You made your opinion clear last night.”
“Last night, you were hurt. Today, you’re pretending the system is reasonable because admitting it isn’t would require you to want something different.”
“I do want something different.”
“What?”
“I want Canal Works transferred. I want Gideon home for dinner. I want you to stop looking at me as if I’ve failed some private test.”
Juliet’s face softened. “I don’t think you’ve failed.”
“Then what do you think?”
“I think you’ve become very good at surviving a life you keep telling me you chose.”
Anger rose in Ophelia’s throat. “I did choose it.”
“All of it?”
“When Gideon and I married, his company was in the middle of a leadership change and a major expansion. We agreed I would wait before building a conventional career. Then I created Threshold. I use my degree every day. I do work that matters to me.”
“I know Threshold matters. I’m not asking about the value of your work.” Juliet held her gaze. “I’m asking whether you’re satisfied with the life around it.”
Ophelia looked down at the table. Her phone lit beside her plate.
Gideon: Dinner isn’t possible. Expansion review will run long. Don’t wait for me.
The hope she had carried since dawn disappeared. No apology. No suggestion of another evening.
Juliet didn’t look at the screen. She watched Ophelia’s face instead.
“What did he cancel?”
“Dinner.”
“The dinner he promised this morning?”
“The review will run long.”
“I didn’t ask why.”
“But you were going to.”
“No. I was going to ask how you feel.”
Ophelia turned the phone facedown. “I feel like finishing lunch.”
Juliet was quiet for a moment. “Then finish it.”
The lack of an argument felt worse than having one.
Ophelia returned to Threshold and worked through the rest of the day.
She handled the tasks that needed her and left the contractor details to the people already responsible for them.
The Canal Works packet remained in her bag.
Each time she saw it, she thought of the fifteen minutes blocked on Gideon’s calendar.
That evening, at home, she read in bed until Gideon came upstairs. He had showered, and his damp hair was brushed back from his face. He wore a soft gray shirt instead of the suit she always saw him in.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“You keep sounding surprised.”
“It’s late.”
“I noticed.”
He paused beside the bed. “I’m sorry about dinner.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I couldn’t leave.”
She could have repeated Juliet’s question. Are the CEO and the husband different people? Instead, she closed her book.
“Come to bed,” she said.
Gideon slid under the covers and lay on his back.
Ophelia turned toward him. He smelled of soap, and a faint shadow covered the clean line of his jaw.
She wanted him. The truth was simple and physical.
Underneath it sat another need she didn’t want to name.
Something between them had to remain untouched by Hale Tower. She placed her hand on his chest.
His eyes opened. “Ophelia?”
“You know who I am.”
His mouth curved. “I’ve been reasonably certain.”
She leaned over him and kissed him. For a few seconds, he answered.
His hand slid into her hair, and his mouth opened under hers.
Warmth moved through her. This was Gideon, familiar and solid beneath her hand.
Her husband. Hers, though she disliked the thought as soon as it came.
Ophelia moved closer and kissed the scar through his eyebrow, then the corner of his mouth.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
His hand stopped at her waist.
“Sweetheart.”
She knew the tone before he finished.
“Don’t,” she said.
“I can’t tonight.”
Embarrassment burned across her skin. She moved off him and pulled the sheet over herself, though she was fully covered by her nightdress.
“You can’t?”
“I’m exhausted.” Gideon reached for her arm. “This isn’t about wanting you.”
“It feels a little like it is.”
“Then you’re hearing something I didn’t say.”
“I’m hearing no.”
He let out a breath. “I don’t want to do this badly because I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“That’s very considerate.”
“Ophelia.”
“Forget it.”
“We’ll have tomorrow night.”
Another promise. Hope tried to rise anyway. She hated that most of all.
His phone vibrated on the nightstand. Gideon reached for it at once. The screen lit his face. Ophelia saw Simone’s name above the message before he angled the phone toward himself.
“Don’t,” she said.
His thumb had already moved. “It’s work.”
“You just told me you could barely keep your eyes open.”
“This will take a minute.”
“I asked for a few minutes too.”
He looked at her, tired and confused. “That’s not the same thing.”
No. It wasn’t. Work mattered. Work required an answer. Work earned the last clear part of him.
“She’s waiting on a decision,” Gideon said.
So am I. The words reached Ophelia’s throat, but she didn’t let them out.
“Answer her,” she said.
Gideon typed. His attention sharpened as another message appeared. A moment earlier, exhaustion had covered every part of him. Now he sat upright, reading and responding while Ophelia lay beside him.
He was too tired for his wife.
He was never too tired for work.