by Chloe Liese
A few times over the call, which I had on speakerphone, Elodie jotted something down in large clear writing so I was able to read it, think it over, and work it in. Not that I was surprised, but she was a natural at raw analytical and persuasive business, not just the ethical corner she loved.
We finished the call, having impressed Avery. They’d sounded likely to move forward with the acquisition, which meant even more work with them was imminent. I was euphoric—I’d worked my arse off to win the project. I pushed back from the desk and strode over to the window, taking in the view of the busy streets and modern buildings.
Throwing back my suit jacket, I rested my hands on my hips, glorying in how good it felt to have nailed it. When I turned back to the woman who’d saved my arse and made it possible, she was scribbling furiously in her copy of the report, pausing to reach up to her laptop and type quickly in a spreadsheet, before glancing back down and muttering to herself.
“Take a moment off, El?” I called to her. Her pen paused and then dropped as she blinked up at me.
“I don’t want to forget it, and there’s so much jumbling around in my head. Give me another minute.” She looked back down and scribbled further, allowing me an opportunity to watch her as she worked, her blazer thrown over the back of the chair like she’d always belonged here, the muscles in her arms flexing as she wrote, the shine of the overhead lights on the little blonde streaks in her hair as she bent over her work.
Finally, her pen fell, and she sighed as she leaned back. “I think that went brilliantly, Lucas.”
I grinned as I walked her way. “I think so, too, entirely thanks to you.”
She smiled as she stood. Smoothing her dress, she then started to slip the report’s loose papers into her folder and close her laptop.
“Where on earth are you going?” I asked, glancing about.
Elodie cocked an eyebrow at me. “Last I checked, I have a meeting with Gina to teach her how to actually be an executive assistant, Gorgon is in three hours, and I have about eight different proposals to finish. I may have a few things that require my attention.”
Frowning, I walked toward her, took the folders, then laptop out of her hands, and set them on my desk. “Can the upcoming CEO at least have a small kiss before the busy Director of Diversity and Inclusion leaves him destitute at his desk?”
She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Kisses only, Edwards.”
I growled into her neck, nipped it lightly, then pressed a soft kiss right over the spot. “I’ll wear you down, Bertrand, you’ll see.”
“Never,” she whispered, but I felt her body give in my arms.
I smiled as I leaned down to take those lips, full and soft, and that sweet mouth, that sharp tongue. “Whatever you say, dearest.”
I was about to kiss her, but we were interrupted as the door to my office opened abruptly.
“Edwards, I—”
Elodie spun out of my arms, marching up to Harry in three quick strides and abruptly halting his progress into the room.
“Sorry, Ellie,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.” Harry smiled wide, his eyes raking up and down her body. I took a step forward, but Elodie raised her hand to me. She stared down at Harry, yes, down, the poor lad, since he was a paltry five-ten to her towering six-three in her skyscraper heels.
“Listen, York,” she snapped. “You’ve got to learn to observe the basics of office etiquette and knock first, then wait to be admitted, understood? Do you have a meeting with Mr. Edwards that I was unaware of?”
Harry glanced over at me helplessly. I simply crossed my arms, covering my mouth with a hand and trying bloody hard not to lose it. He was a pain in my arse who put on airs and liked to waste my time, but I hadn’t the bandwidth to do any more than let him sit there and ramble while I scurried through papers and gave him perfunctory grunts of acknowledgment. It was beyond gratifying to see Elodie put him in his place.
“Well, no,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and eyeing her warily.
“I didn’t think so. He’s not your pal or your mate, York, and he certainly hasn’t time for chitchat, so if you’ve got something to say, request a meeting through Gina and leave the man alone. Now, get to, go on.” Elodie turned him by the shoulders and all but shoved him out, slamming the door shut and this time locking it.
I leaned a hip on my desk and watched her strut, head high across the room, back into my arms. “I never knew I had a dominatrix fantasy, Elodie, but you’re quickly filling in the details for me.”
She laughed and wrapped her arms around my neck as she leaned her front to mine. I pressed my lips firm against hers, demanding my tongue’s entrance, taking her quiet, exasperated laugh and her warm kisses like the selfish, needy bloke I couldn’t help but be.
This time a knock startled us, and she pushed away abruptly, licking her lips and smoothing back her hair. She spun quickly toward the door, oblivious to my scowl over her need to fix herself, as if we’d something to hide. A pale hand extended when Elodie opened the door, trembling with a pile of papers.
“Here you are, Ms. Bertrand. And I’ve reserved Conference Room C for our meeting five minutes from now.” Regina’s voice wobbled, and I grinned that Elodie had yet another person quaking in their boots.
Elodie nodded curtly, retrieving the papers, and clicked the door shut with her backside. She pushed off absentmindedly and flipped through them while muttering to herself.
“No.” She flipped the page. “No,” she huffed, flipping another. “For fuck’s sake,” she hissed, stomping forward, sweeping her things into her arms and flying out.
I followed her until I stood in the doorway to my office. Hands in pockets, I watched her storm down the hall, grumbling and hoisting her armful higher. Pierce walked by and backtracked, eyeing her arse. I smacked him sharply upside the head.
“Move along,” I said roughly.
He turned to look at me, his expression one of awe.
“Don’t worry, Luc, I don’t think there’s a man in this office but for you who stands a chance with a woman like that.” Her door slammed, and he jumped.
“Too right,” I said. “But whether or not anyone here stands a chance with her, their eyes are to stay resolutely north of her shoulders. Or else human resources needs to be involved. Understood?”
Pierce nodded in fierce agreement. “Completely understood. Really, I don’t even know why I look, she’s gorgeous, of course, but she’s absolutely terrifying.”
Something thudded in the direction of Elodie’s office, drawing Pierce’s and my attention. Elodie’s voice rang out. “Regina!”
“Christ, what a shrew,” he muttered, stalking off.
I rocked on my heels, grinning as I turned back into my office. If by shrew, Pierce meant a feisty, driven, capable woman—Shakespeare’s Katerina, a woman set to live her life empowered and independent—then she was indeed. And she was all mine.
For now.
“Yes,” I sighed, “for now.”
Fifteen
Elodie
I never knew I could feel like this—waking up every day with a fire under me, passion for what I was going to do all day long. You’d think I would have felt this way about football, for how long and diligently I committed myself to it, but I hadn’t. I’d been naturally good at it, worked hard to be skilled, and, believing it was some karmic justice because of its role in my brother’s death, told myself it was what I should do. Except for the few years in which Nairne and I shared the pitch and built our sisterhood from a tenuous friendship, I never truly loved football like I now loved getting up and going to Farthington.
As I woke that morning, I had the distinct feeling that life seemed too good to be true. When I’d felt that way before, it was generally when everything went, as Lucas was wont to say, tits up. And so, as I readied myself for our morning run, I bounced on my feet, trying to dispel my nerves like I used to before games. Lucas walked in, toothbrush in his mouth, and smacked my arse. He leaned
over my shoulder, pressing his front to my back, and spat into the sink.
Some mornings he really did act like he had testosterone poisoning. Usually it was after a particularly energetic and raunchy fuck. Which it had been.
I wanted to be irritated with him, but the heat of his body against mine distracted me. His woodsy scent mixed with the heady smell of sex that still lingered on him. As he stood there in shorts, an old shirt, and trainers, disheveled sandy blond hair and stubble, looking a little playful and quite handsome, I forgot what I was supposed to be angry about.
I scrubbed my own teeth, and when I leaned forward to spit and rinse, I rubbed my arse against his growing interest as fair punishment.
Lucas grunted as I did it, and glared at me as he kept scrubbing. I straightened and tossed the toothbrush in its cup. “Sometimes you’re an animal, Loulou. You’re very lucky that you smell so good, and that I can’t think straight when you tower over me like that. Otherwise I’d be very peppery with you right now.”
“Salty,” he muttered and spat once more over me.
I shoved him and ducked under his arms. I was getting impatient, which Lucas knew. Every morning we played this game where he brushed his teeth forever, until I did something distracting enough to make him quit. It might have led to some return visits to the bed and late mornings at work, but there were perks to being on the top rung of the corporate ladder.
I stood, arms crossed while tapping my toe. Lucas just kept scrubbing, knowing he was pissing me off. For some reason that morning, my stomach felt off, perhaps because of the anxiety and dread I was inexplicably feeling. I was not in the mood to seduce Lucas. In fact I was plainly irritated at that point.
“All right, fine,” I said as I spun out of the room. “I’ll run by myself.”
I heard him spit and then use the water briefly, followed by the thundering of his feet down the steps as I pulled open the front door and looked back.
“The hell you will.” Sweeping his key off the entryway table, he shoved me outside, then turned to lock us out. “It’s my second favorite time of day. I get to ogle your gorgeous tits and arse for a full sixty minutes without you punching me or calling me a sexist pig.”
I rolled my eyes at him but couldn’t help my smile. “You are a sexist pig, whether I call you that or not.”
“I’ll plead guilty to the pig part, because I’m a man, and we’re all disgusting things, but I’m no sexist, and you know it.” Pulling his shoulders back, Lucas found his form beside me as we settled into our run. Then he glanced over at me and grinned. “Sexists are objectifying wankers who see a woman solely as a vessel for their pleasure and manipulation. I, on the other hand, am merely a saveur of the female form, a supplicant at the feet of the fairer sex.”
Scoffing, I picked up speed, knowing that if Lucas was going to be this chatty, the run needed to end sooner rather than later. I loved the man, but he could talk until my ears hurt.
Merde. I wasn’t supposed to love him.
Doesn’t mean you don’t.
We were still dancing around what we were, let alone making grand proclamations like that. Me, insisting what lay ahead for Lucas could not be grounds for dissolving our relationship, Lucas insisting that was precisely what it was grounds for. Perhaps it was because we’d longed for each other so much, and here fate—if there was such a thing—had dropped us on each other’s doorsteps. Who were we to question it? To rip apart this delicate gift with long-term worries and disagreements?
I told myself I’d convince Lucas yet, while he probably woke up each day reassuring himself of the same thing. But at some point, we’d have to talk, and honestly, it frightened me to think what would come of it, even as I tried to hold on to hope.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
Lucas drove me mildly mad in the morning. I was slow to wake up, and he just popped out of bed, mind moving a million miles a minute, mouth flying even faster.
“I’m just running, Loulou. And you talk enough for both of us at this time of day.”
Lucas slapped my arse gently. “You’d miss my ramblings if I didn’t narrate the morning. You’re just tart because you’re missing your coffee.”
I whimpered. “I do miss my coffee.”
“So get up early enough to have a cup before the run, Bertrand.”
“We both know that’s never going to happen. I like waking up other ways much better. And they don’t involve me getting out of bed.”
Lucas grinned. “Hear, hear.”
The park was quiet since it was early. Only a few people strolled around, mostly the odd solo runner. As we passed a clump of trees, a tall fellow came into sight, jogging with his little one babbling in the pram he pushed.
My heart faltered. Lucas noticed it too and grew quiet. I could feel when he pulled back as easily as I noticed the sun slipping behind a cloud.
“Have you ever run with Zed and Jamie?” I asked, hoping it might soften the blow of the encounter.
Lucas smiled faintly. “A few times. Prams are bloody difficult to push while running. I didn’t think they would be, but they’re quite ungainly. And Jamie never shuts up, which Zeddy says he gets from his uncle Teo. I find it both highly entertaining and totally adorable. Baby gibberish the whole time, and his little green eyes just like Nairne’s, darting around, taking in the world.”
I glanced over at him as we approached an intersection before the next section of the park. “Maybe we can watch him for the love birdies tonight.”
Lucas smiled. “Yes, that might be nice.”
As we got to the intersection, Lucas glanced perfunctorily both ways with me, but when I saw a cab drawing close on the left, and thus stopped, Lucas jogged resolutely forward.
“Lucas!” I screamed.
He snapped his head my way, alarm infusing his features.
Words should have poured out of my mouth, a warning to tell him to turn back, but they didn’t. The cab hurtled closer, quiet on the smoothly paved road, and there wasn’t time to tell Lucas anything. There was only time to sprint at him and shove his massive body out of harm’s way.
Tires screeched, and I reeled from impact. My ribs screamed in protest just before my head hit the concrete with a loud smack.
Then everything went dark.
Papa and I run. Our feet pound quietly along the dirt path of the trail. It’s our secret place, our time away from everything.
“You’re getting so strong, Elodie, you’ll soon be outrunning your papa!” He laughs, as I stretch my long, scrawny legs, flapping my bird-like arms, reveling in the feel of the wind in my face as I speed up.
“Catch me, Papa,” I yell, and for once I smile.
“Elodie, wait!” Papa calls to me, and so I turn around to watch him while jogging in place.
“Hurry up, old man,” I giggle, and at that he breaks into a shockingly fast sprint, catching me quickly and hauling me over his shoulder. He runs with me over top of him and I laugh, smacking his back with my fists, demanding he put me down.
Finally, he does, and we’re both gasping for air, then laughing. Papa’s fit, and it’s funny to see him panting, but I guess even athletes get old. Papa used to play for France, until he met Maman, then he retired to please Maman’s father, Grandpapa, so he’d let them marry. It’s not a story that makes Papa smile. It makes me sad when I hear it, too. Papa was young when he retired, and he was so very good. I’ve seen old videos, and they make me proud.
“Elodie,” he huffs, standing up and setting his hands on his hips. “We need to talk, chaton.”
I smile at him. “Of course, Papa, what is it?”
Papa takes my arm in hand, turning us to begin our cooldown. “Mon ange, Maman and I have decided to pursue a big acquisition for Bertrand.”
I scrunch my face. “You sound like that’s bad. Didn’t Maman say acquisitions are good?”
Papa’s eyes crinkle in pride and amusement, but his smile seems too small. “Yes, doudou, you’re right, but there’s more to
this acquisition. What it means for our family…”
I turn toward him but follow his lead to continue walking. “Papa, what do you mean?”
Papa sighs, lifting a hand to my back and rubbing softly up and down. “It means we won’t run like this very often anymore, Elodie. I’m going to be very busy, traveling, drumming up investments, and preparing us to be able to buy this company.”
“Why must you be gone so much? Can’t Maman travel?” Maman isn’t very nice to me, especially since Adrien. I want Papa to stay.
“Because, Elodie…” He sighs. “Ah, I have to just tell you. I’m not very good at this. Your maman and I are divorcing, Elodie.”
My steps falter, but I recover fairly quickly and walk on, stifling tears in my eyes and holding my breath, hoping it helps. “Oh, okay.”
I know divorce means Maman and Papa don’t love each other anymore. But I already knew that. They stopped loving each other after Adrien. Adrien’s death was my fault. Which means their divorce is my fault, too.
Papa sighs again, silent as we walk along. I glance over at him, and he looks sad.
“You mustn’t blame yourself, Elodie. This is not your doing.”
Papa’s always read my mind. I don’t believe him, because he says nice things to me often, so I won’t be sad. I take his lie and give him a truth.
“I’ll miss you, Papa,” I whisper. When he glances at me, my tears spill over.
His face scrunches, and he pulls me hard against him. “I’ll miss you too. So much. But I have to do this, Elodie, to give you a good life. Maman and I will still work together, keep the company intact.”
I want to tell him a good life isn’t having things but having him and Maman hugging me and singing at the piano like we used to. That their working together compared to their marriage falling apart means nothing to me. I nod quickly against his chest and try not to cry more. “Okay, Papa.”