"They judge everything else. My loyalty. My competence. Whether I have any right to stand beside you after what I did."
"You've earned your place," he said.
I forced myself to swallow. "I kept them from you for twenty years."
"And you think meat pie will fix that?" His thumb traced my jawline. "You can't repair the past with dinner, Maxime."
"I don't know what else to offer them."
"The truth is all anyone can offer." His forehead pressed against mine.
We stood there for a moment, his hand on my jaw, my hands fisted in his shirt. Then he pulled back.
"There's something else we need to discuss before they arrive. After Shaw, after Macau, I've been considering Lucky Losers' future."
"The recovery strategy is sound," I said automatically. "Stock will rebound."
"I'm stepping down as CEO."
I stared at him, failing to process.
"What?"
"It's time. The company needs fresh leadership after Oklahoma."
"You can't." The protest emerged before I could calculate whether it was wise. "Lucky Losers is you."
"Without me, it evolves. As it needs to."
"What about us?" I gestured between us. "Where does that leave me?"
He took my hand in his. "With me. If that's what you want."
A life without Lucky Losers. The concept refused to resolve into a coherent shape. My identity had been so thoroughly fused with the company, with my function in his life, that I couldn't imagine existing outside those parameters.
And yet, beneath the professional vertigo, something else stirred. Was that…relief?
The doorbell rang.
Seventeen minutes early.
"I'll get it." His lips brushed mine. "Breathe, Maxime. We'll figure it out together."
He left me standing amid the wreckage of my preparations, burnt bread and over-reduced sauce and a revelation I hadn't begun to process.
Voices carried from the entryway. Xander, Xavier, and a voice I didn’t recognize immediately.
I gathered what remained of the appetizer platter and moved toward the dining room.
The chandelier cast a warm light across mahogany and crystal. I'd arranged everything this morning—lilies and hydrangeas in careful symmetry, wine glasses at exact intervals.
They'd already taken their seats. Algerone sat at the head, Xavier to his right, accompanied by his boyfriend, Leo. Xavier's partner was brilliant, anxious, and utterly devoted to Xavier with an intensity I recognized.
Xander sat to Algerone's left in a bright yellow sweater. Beside him, Ash Valentine scanned the room like the former FBI agent he was.
But the far end of the table held the true surprise.
Xion. The son who had refused all contact with his father and had built an entirely separate life. He sat with shouldershunched, posture defensive, beside Boone, a red-headed, bearded man I had mixed opinions on.
