“Then start a new one. Here. With my dad. With the baby.” He stands. “Give him a real chance. Not because he’s keeping you here. But because he loves you. And you love him. I can see it, even when you’re angry with him.”
“I do love him,” I admit. “I just hate how he’s handling this.”
“Tell him that. Talk to him. He’s stubborn and overprotective and kind of a control freak, but he listens. Especially to you.”
After Alexi leaves, and I go back inside, Ledger is in the kitchen making tea. He looks up when I enter, and I see the exhaustion in his face.
“I’m still angry,” I say.
“I know.”
“But I’m going to try. To give this a chance. To trust that you’re doing this because you love me, not because you want to control me.”
He sets down the tea and crosses to me, pulling me into his arms. “Thank you.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
18
LEDGER
The contractin front of me needs my signature, but I’ve been staring at it for twenty minutes without actually reading a word.
My phone rings and Silas’s name flashes on the screen.
“Talk to me.”
“Paris deal is ready to close. The Mercier Group wants to meet next week. They’re bringing their wives, making it a social thing.”
“Fine. Book the jet for Tuesday.”
“You taking Savannah?”
I pause. Taking her to Paris means exposing her to more of my world. Means trusting that she won’t run the moment we’re in a foreign country. But it also means showing her that this life isn’t just about being locked in a penthouse. That being my wife comes with experiences, opportunities, and a partnership.
“Yeah,” I say finally. “I’m taking her.”
After I hang up, I go back to the contract. Force myself to read it this time. It’s a standard acquisition agreement for a boutique hotel chain in Chicago. Three properties, all profitable, all in need of capital injection and modernization.
Chicago. Where Savannah’s from.
Maybe I can turn that into something good. Bring her with me on business trips. Show her that marrying me doesn’t mean losing everything she was.
I’m signing the contract when my office door opens. Savannah walks in, and I set down my pen immediately.
She’s been crying. I can see it in her red-rimmed eyes, the way she’s holding herself together with visible effort. But she’s here. In my office. When she could be anywhere else in the penthouse.
“Savannah.” I stand. “Are you okay?”
“I know we already talked in the kitchen, but you have to promise me something else now.”
“What?”
“I’m not giving up my independence completely. I’m not becoming some trophy wife who sits in a penthouse and looks pretty. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it as your partner. Your equal. Not your possession.”
“I never wanted you to be my possession.”
