Maxime moved to stand beside me. Too close. He always stood too close, like proximity was its own language. He was wearing abespoke suit that fit him perfectly. Lean frame, slim waist, broad shoulders. Sharp cheekbones and dark eyes gave him a severity his mouth contradicted. That mouth had spent three decades saying my name like worship.
I cut the thought off hard.
"The Pentagon wants exclusive rights," Kirsch said. "No civilian applications. No international sales. Not even to allies."
"That will be reflected in the price," I said.
A sharp pain shot down my leg, sudden enough that I had to lock my jaw to keep from reacting. Maxime's arm brushed mine. The contact lasted barely a second, but it burned through my suit. He'd noticed. Of course he did. The man had been there with me throughout recovery, even when I tried to send him away.
Part of me wanted to see if he'd reach for me here, in front of Kirsch. He didn't. He stood at exactly the right distance, close enough to help but far enough to be professional.
"Six billion for the complete system," Kirsch said. "With performance incentives that could push it to seven." Kirsch's eyebrows went up. "Those are ambitious numbers."
"America is an ambitious country with ambitious global military goals. Revolutionary technology demands revolutionary compensation, General. You know that."
Kirsch looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "Have your lawyers talk to our lawyers. But I want working prototypes of all three variants in six months. And security needs to be ironclad. This cannot leave your facilities."
"Of course." I extended my hand. We shook. "Maxime will handle the details."
Maxime stepped forward with his tablet, guiding Kirsch through preliminary agreements. I watched him work. Perfect competence. Perfect loyalty. Yet all I could think about was Imogen Duchaucis, the mother of my children. Maxime hadthreatened her when she tried to tell me she was pregnant, and his threats pushed a mentally ill woman over the edge. She'd killed herself rather than face whatever she thought he'd do to her.
It was thanks to Maxime's competence and loyalty that my three sons grew up without knowing me.
The rage sat in my chest like a living thing. I wanted to hurt him, to make him understand a fraction of what he'd cost me. And I knew if I ordered him to his knees right here, he'd do it. The power I had over him was intoxicating, yet I refused to use it. Not since I learned what he'd done.
When Kirsch left, Maxime closed the door and turned to me. The professional mask dropped instantly. His shoulders relaxed. His whole stance softened. That look of absolute devotion filled his eyes.
"Congratulations," he said quietly. "This is the largest contract in Lucky Losers' history. You were magnificent."
"Our history," I said automatically, then regretted it. Hope flared in his eyes before I killed it. "A history you nearly destroyed."
The light went out of him like I'd flipped a switch. His shoulders slumped. The animation drained from his face. He didn't argue or defend himself. Just took it. The same way he'd taken every barb I'd thrown at him for eighteen months.
Silence stretched between us.
"Xavier called earlier," Maxime said finally. His voice was low. His fingers fluttered at his lapel before he caught himself. "Nothing urgent. Weekly check-in."
My oldest son was the head of security at Lucky Losers Inc., and the spitting image of me. It was Xavier who'd forced Maxime to confess what he'd done.
I stared at Maxime. How many other calls had he intercepted over the years? How many messages from Imogen had he buried?
"I'd never do it again," he said suddenly. Reading my mind, like always. "The boys. I'd never keep them from you again." His eyes were pleading. "What I did... it was to protect you. To protect what we were building. But I should have told you. That was my mistake."
"Your mistake." The words tasted like poison. "Twenty years of lies was a mistake?"
He didn't flinch. Never did. He leaned into my anger like it was better than indifference. "I would do anything to fix this. Anything. You know that."
I held his gaze and let the silence stretch. His devotion used to be my greatest asset. Now, it disgusted me.
Or that's what I told myself.
"Have the car brought around," I said, moving toward the door. As I passed him, our bodies came close enough that I caught his scent under the cologne. I paused, just for a heartbeat. "I'm going home. It's been a long day."
"Back to the penthouse?" he asked, tone hopeful despite everything. His fingers tapped anxiously against his tablet.
"No. To the house."
His fingers froze because Maxime knew what that meant. I tolerated his presence in the penthouse, but I'd made it clear he wasn't welcome at my home.
