49. CHAPTER 46 #3
He stood beside me, his face impassive save for the void in his eyes—a reflection of the sorrow for the uncle who had essentially raised him after Lars died.
As if he sensed the memory haunting me, Severin gave my arm a short, meaningful squeeze.
We shared a look, an acknowledgment that the world had shifted beneath our feet.
He nodded, gesturing out of respect not just for the man in the ground, but for me, the man now standing in his place.
Then came the sound. The shovel hitting the pile, the first spray of dirt hitting the mahogany lid.
It wasn't the thud I expected. This was an empty, scraping noise, like the sound of a door being permanently locked from the outside.
I watched the soil scatter across the polished wood, blurring the reflection of the sky until there was nothing left but brown earth.
That was it. Seventy years of power and legacy, reduced to six feet of displaced dirt.
After the burial, we returned to the house. Staff moved quickly, refreshing drinks and clearing away funeral flowers. The house was filled with people—board members, family friends, associates.
Léonie never let go of my hand. Her fingers stayed locked with mine. The warmth she gave was the only thing keeping me sane through it all.
Condolences blurred together as we moved through the rooms. I barely registered any of them. It felt as if I was breathing through a straw.
“I’m going to check on your mother,” Léa whispered to me.
I looked at her. My mother barely tolerated Léa, treated her like a necessary part of the estate. For her to see past that and still offer comfort moved me in ways I couldn’t articulate.
“Thank you,” I murmured, kissing her temple, then the back of her hand, reluctant to let her go, even now.
She caressed my jaw with a smile, and I watched her walk away. Then I turned toward the library. It was the only place in the estate currently off-limits to everyone else, and I needed air that didn't smell of lilies and the performance of the day.
I found Marcus, Zane, Adrien, Julian, Elias already there, waiting. They'd known I’d need somewhere to find my bearing.
Marcus handed me a glass of scotch without a word. I took it.
We drank. Talked briefly about security, the board, what came next.
Marcus had already buried his father in bad press.
Something over an arguement about an investment gone bad.
Typical Marcus, always finding ways to punish his father.
Adrien offered Vancourt shares if I needed them in the future.
Julian mentioned he’d handled a few threats that wouldn’t respond to board votes, clearing the way for a succession without a hitch.
I didn’t ask how. Julian had his ways. Zane just nodded from his chair.
He wasn’t making any inappropriate jokes today.
That meant something. Elias and Severin had the estate’s security locked down tight.
For the first time all day, I could actually breathe.
An hour later, I stood. “I need to find my wife.”
Marcus nodded. “Go.”
I left them there, still sprawled in the chairs, guarding the one room in the house where I didn’t have to be anything but myself.
I went upstairs to find Léa.
I found my wife in our room, sitting on the bed, heels off, rubbing her ankle absentmindedly. She looked up as I entered, her eyes warmed with that unspoken understanding that always unraveled me.
She stood, and crossed the space between us. Her hands caressed my arms in comfort, before her fingers reached for my tie. The knot gave way under her touch, slipping free.
“How are you holding up?” she asked, her warm breath fanning my collar.
I exhaled, the weight of it all pressing in hard, everywhere. “I don’t know,” I muttered. “As if I’ve been hollowed out. But seeing you now—” My throat constricted. “makes it bearable.”
Her fingers moved to my shirt buttons, languidly peeling the fabric open.
With her eyes searching mine, she closed the gap between us, placing her forehead on mine, her scent—soft vanilla and a floral note—enveloping us.
“Then let’s start with one thing we can fix.”
Her lips hovering near my jaw, as her words brushed over my stubble.
I nodded, turning my head for our mouths to align. The kiss started out gentle, almost thoughtful, then she sighed into my mouth, and it deepened. My hand cupped the nape of her neck, tilting her closer, letting the heat build slowly between us.
She tasted like fucking solace.
Our breaths synced as she pulled me in deeper, like the first breath after being underwater for too long. When we parted, barely an inch, her forehead stayed place on mine.
“You look like that suit is strangling you,” she whispered with her eyes half-lidded.
Then her fingers trailed down my chest, unfastening the last buttons.
I shrugged it off, letting it pool on the floor.
I let her undress me—shirt, cufflinks, each small thing placed neatly on the dresser, every act more intimate than the last. When I reached for the zipper at the back of her dress, she turned without hesitation, exposing the long line of her spine.
The intimacy of that trust hurt in the most beautiful way.
The zipper slid down with a soft rasp, and the dress slipped to the floor. She stepped out of it, unselfconscious in her lace, my gaze never leaving her face as I hooked my fingers into her underwear and eased it down, baring her completely.
She took my hand and guided me toward the bed.
“Lie with me,” she said, her voice a seductive pull. I obeyed.
We slid under the covers, skin to skin, her leg draped over mine.
In the dim lighted room, our noses brushed before I tilted my head, taking her mouth.
She responded with a hum, her hand sliding up my arm to my shoulder, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened, slow, and aching, leaving no room for grief, legacy. Nothing else but us.
We eased apart only for air, our mouths still almost touching. My hand spanned the small of her back, my thumb tracing aimlessly along her spine as if trying to map our future together.
“I’m sorry he’ll never meet the baby,” she whispered, her words feathering my lips.
I swallowed hard, the ache surfacing in my throat. “Maybe it’s kinder,” I said, the honesty scraping raw. “He would have loved them in his own way. But he would have saddled them with every weight he ever carried. I don’t want that for them. Or for you.”
My thumb traced the line of her cheek. She nuzzled into my palm before tilting her head, inviting me back.
This time the kiss was slower, our lips moved in an easy rhythm until I angled my head and took it deeper, tasting her properly.
Her fingers threaded through my hair, holding me there as the world narrowed down to the slide of our mouths and the heat radiating off our bodies.
When we eased back, her lips still brushed mine as she spoke. “What do you want for us, then? For our family?”
“A real home,” I confessed, fighting the pull to lose myself in her again.
“I want us to have a real home where love isn’t earned.
I want our children to have a father who knows how to listen without keeping score.
” I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat.
“I want them to know they’re loved even when they’re not useful.
And I want to be the man you seem so convinced I already am. ”
She cupped my face, holding me there with a tenderness that floored me.
I captured her mouth, deepening the kiss again, my head tilting to find the right angle. She let out a low moan, and it travelled straight down my spine.
“You’ll be just that,” she said, her eyes gleaming with a terrifying amount of faith. “Starting now.”
Her hand trailed down my chest, and I shifted to roll her gently underneath me.
I traced a path of feather-light kisses along her jaw and down to the hollow of her throat.
I grazed the spot with my teeth, and soothed it with my tongue.
She arched with a gasp, and I dragged my tongue over it again before lifting my head to meet her gaze.
Our breathing uneven and out of sync.
“You’re everything I wanted,” I said to her, the words slipping out despite the lump in my throat. “I’m so damn lucky it’s you. That it’s us, doing life together.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she smiled drawing me down for a kiss that heated up fast. Her hands roamed my back, pulling me closer, as if she could pull the grief right out of my skin.
And maybe that’s what got to me—that she held me as though there was nothing in me too heavy for her to carry. The same way she had held me up all day, protecting me, without once letting the world see me stumble.
The heaviness of the day cracked me open. A broken sound built in my throat and I buried my face in the crook of her neck, my shoulders shaking with the effort not to shatter completely. She cradled me, her fingers threading through my hair with deliberate strokes.
I was the one who was supposed to hold everything together—the legacy, our future. I was the pillar that wasn’t allowed to crack. I was supposed to be her protector. Yet, I was falling apart in her hands, and for once, I didn’t try to stop it.
“I don't know how to do this without him.” I admitted to her, my voice a total wreck.
She held me tighter, letting me break. Then she placed the softest kiss on my temple.
“You’re so strong, Orion.” She spoke gently, each word very intentional. “The way you carry this... it’s beautiful. I admire you so much.”
The words…so unexpected detonated through me. They cut through the numbness, sending heat flooding through my veins even as tears finally broke free. My cock hardened against her thigh, the thick shaft pulsing with the need to take her.
No one had ever praised me while I was breaking. No one had ever made me feel as if my weakness was somehow worth witnessing. But her. My Léa.
Those words—every single one from her mouth—turned my grief into a throbbing hunger.