22. CHAPTER 20
Léonie
I woke up to flowers.
Not just a bouquet on the nightstand. Everywhere.
Vases clustered everywhere in my room. The dresser, the console by the window, even the little table beside the armchair were filled with them.
A tall arrangement stole half the light from the balcony doors. Pastel roses, cream peonies, white orchids in crystals, and light-colored blush ranunculus all filled the display.
The room smelled expensive and impossibly delicate. One would think a florist’s atelier or a cloud of perfume had taken up permanent resident in my room.
“Good morning, Madame Kade.”
I turned to find Mrs. Lewis at the door, beaming like she’d just watched the epilogue of a long romance soap opera.
“What’s happening?” I asked, gesturing at the floral invasion.
“Mr. Kade had them delivered,” she said. “After your argument last night.”
I stared at the nearest vase. Dew beaded on the petals.
An apology, maybe. I doubted men like Orion Kade apologized for anything but I’m guessing if they did, it looked like this.
“I’ve never seen Mr. Kade be affectionate about anyone or anything aside from business,” she added, softer. “This is… new.”
I am technically business, I thought.
Hostile merger. Forced partnership. Decorative asset. Just to name a few of the things I represent in his life.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it, and slid my thumb across the screen.
Orion: Regarding last night, my stance on your security stands. Arguing with me will not change that. Stephen is at your disposal today. He'll take you anywhere you need to go.
Hmmm…An apology that refused to kneel. Very on brand. I’d have been surprised if he accidentally uttered the words “I’m sorry.”
Wouldn’t be caught dead.
Another buzz.
Orion: I hope you like the flowers.
I looked around the room again.
Every arrangement was exquisite. Thoughtfully composed. No lilies anywhere, I noticed. He must really hate them so much, considering I found out two days ago that his mother plants them.
I sat back on the bed, the sheets still warm from sleep, and typed.
Me: I do. They’re beautiful.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Orion: Good. They suit you. Although they aren't as beautiful as you are.
I went still.
Is Orion Kade flirting with me at nine in the morning? What alternate universe is this?
I tried to suppress the smile threatening to break through.
Mrs. Lewis moved further into the room, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle on the foot of the bed.
“Will you be having breakfast downstairs, Madame?” she asked.
I nodded, my eyes still on the screen. “Yes. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
She left quietly, closing the door behind her, with a smile at the corner of her lips.
Another buzz.
Orion: You can’t fight me at every turn, Léonie. Eventually, we’ll have to learn how to move in the same direction.
Same direction?
What is this? An olive branch or a dare?
I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone onto the bed in clear annoyance, then stood.
“I refuse to start my day arguing with a man via text,” I muttered to no one, already heading for the shower.
By the afternoon, I had almost forgiven him. Almost.
I had no intention of letting it show, and I wasn’t going to reply to his last message. Infact, I had plans for the day, and none of it involved him.
Céleste arrived just after one, entering into the foyer with the effortless confidence of someone accustomed to belonging everywhere she went. Which, to be fair, she usually did. Being a Vassier afforded her that kind of leverage in more ways than one.
She kissed both my cheeks, her familiar scent sending a warmth through me. It felt so comforting to be around my people again.
“You look luminous,” she said, stepping back to assess me. “Marriage definitely agrees with your skin.”
“You mean marriage agrees with my moisturizer,” I corrected her, smiling.
I’d found a loophole in the security protocol after yesterday’s argument and it was a simple one: my friends.
Since leaving the house without a shadow was impossible, I’d arranged for the girls to pick me up. It was easier this way. No unnecessary questions, no interrogations, and no explanations I wasn't inclined to give Orion.
Isolde joined us outside by the car, fresh off her ballet tour, her wild hair tamed in a bun, long coat belted at the waist. She pulled me into a hug so tight my ribs protested.
“Madame Kade,” she whispered in my ear, her voice full of mischief. “I still can’t get over how real it is.”
“Neither can I,” I quipped.
Stephen approached the car with that terrifying, effortless composure he shared with his employer. I could see the question forming behind his eyes before his well-polished shoes even hit the gravel.
“Where are we headed today, Mrs. Kade?” he asked, his tone perfectly neutral. “The sedan is prepped if you’d prefer I drive.”
“Saint-Germain,” Céleste chimed in from the driver's seat before I could, her hands gripped tightly on the wheel as if she expected him to physically stop the car. “It’s a girls’ day out…we’ve got her.”
I offered him a tight, reassuring smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. “It’s fine, Stephen. I’ll be back by dinner. You can let Mr. Kade know where I am... if he even bothers to ask.”
I almost giggled at bothers to ask. I knew he didn’t need to. He regularly makes it a point to know everything that happens around the estate. He’s probably watching from his office or the feed from the gate camera this very second.
If there’s anything I’ve learnt while living here, it’s that Orion keeps tabs on every single thing. Last night only confirmed it.
I’m not sure how he keeps it up while running his vast empire.
Stephen didn’t argue. He simply gave a disciplined nod, and reached for the handle of the car. He opened the door with professional ease born of years of practice.
“Have a pleasant afternoon, Mrs. Kade,” he said, his voice as smooth as the car’s V12 engine.
As we pulled away, Isolde sighed, checking the rearview mirror. “God, Lée. If the husband is half as much of a gentleman as the driver, I might have to move in too. That man is like a walking period drama.”
I let out a genuine laugh, the first one in days. It felt light, even if it was fueled by the absurdity of it all.
“He’s a professional, Is,” I teased, leaning back into the seat that smelled like Tuscan leather and pasteurized air. “Don't let the suit fool you.”
We sped past the iron gates, the heavy stone pillars of the estate shrinking in the distance. The air in the car felt different—thinner, easier to breathe.
For the first time since the wedding, the city felt like mine again.
We spent the afternoon the way we always did when we had time.
Brunch at an airy café we were trying out for the first time.
The walls were covered with the most beautiful local art and we had our fill of gossip over coffee that cost too much, then we walked narrow streets lined with bars and boutiques.
Céleste paid for everything that caught our eyes, including the many boxes of pastries we knew we wouldn’t finish, but indulged anyway.
Isolde slipped into a dance shop ‘just to look’ and came out with new shoes and a wide smile on her face.
“So,” Isolde said over a forkful of Mille-feuille, her eyes on me from across the café table. “How is married life with the Crown Prince of Glare town? Has he figured out how to move his facial muscles yet, or are we still dealing with ‘The smolder of doom’?”
Céleste smothered a laugh behind her coffee cup.
I rolled my eyes, pushing down the laugh threatening to bubble to the surface. “Atleast he’s consistent with it.”
“Consistent,” she scoffed. “Honey, the man looks like he’s perpetually calculating the exact cost of everyone’s soul in the room. It’s a lot.”
I could see Céleste struggle to keep her laugh in. She’d burst any minute
I cleared my throat. “In his defense, he doesn’t glare. He… observes.”
“Same thing, my love,” Isolde replied.
I toyed with the rim of my glass.
“It’s… mostly quiet,” I said. “We coexist. He’s very…structured. Most of our conversations are small talk that feel like negotiations.”
Céleste’s attention fixed on me. “And last night when you texted me?”
I sighed. “We had a fight about security. I tried to leave yesterday to meet up with you guys, and his men treated me like I was a minor trying to leave home without supervision. I called them guard dogs. He upgraded the label to care.”
Isolde winced. “Ouch.”
“He offered me cars,” I continued. “He asked me to take his out or he’ll buy me a fleet of mine. But the problem isn’t the vehicle or whether I choose to drive or not. It’s the leash.”
Céleste leaned forward, her bracelets chiming softly.
“Can you meet him somewhere in the middle?
You hate feeling controlled, but you might need to see his view.
He's a man who runs a world that eats people alive; of course he has built his life on containing problems. You both are right and wrong in different ways.”
“She’s right Lée. And it doesn’t mean roll over,” Isolde added quickly. “God forbid. You’d suffocate. But maybe take the car, accept the security, and insist on choosing the when and where. Make it your movement, even inside his rules.”
I stared at the pastries in front of me. A tray of chocolate chouquettes sat between us on the table—one of my many favourites. I picked one up and took a bite, but the sweetness barely registered.
“I just want to breathe without someone logging it in as a daily report.”
Céleste’s eyes grew warmer with an understanding glint. “Honestly, breathing looks different for you now,” she said. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t still do it.”
We let that sit for a moment. I sipped my latte trying to contain my emotions around the situation. The weight of being a Kade felt like a dull pressure in my chest. A golden cage that was getting smaller with each passing day.
Out of habit, my hand moved toward the center of the table.