We couldn’t have done it without your brothers’ help.
The bastard is so loud, Luce hears it. The light in her eyes dies and the smile goes frozen, then slowly vanishes. A deathly pallor leaches all color from her, and she glances down, then around, like she’s lost in the dark. Her eyes slide right past me, and remain unfocused as she stiffly turns away.
Roderick’s spewing more bullshit. I shove him out of the way. More people stop me to say something, but I ignore them.
“Luce!” I call out.
She doesn’t hear me. Or maybe she does, and doesn’t want to deal with me. She exits the auditorium, her phone clenched in her hand. She doesn’t stop to take her purse. I double back to grab it from her seat and then push my way through the shareholders to go after her, but she’s in her Cullinan already.
Fuck.
I rush to my car and drive home.I have to talk to her.Make her understand.
So many words swirl in my head, but none of them feel adequate. Will anything make an impact?
By the time I pull into the driveway, James is about to get into the Cullinan.
He stops. “There you are. Now I don’t feel so bad about leaving her home alone.”
“What happened?” I ask, panic skittering down my spine.
“She’s not feeling well. You might want to get her something.”
“Where’s Matthias?”
“I believe he has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, but he should be back shortly.”
I nod an acknowledgment and step inside. It’s as silent as a tomb, the air cool. The only sound is the pounding of my heart.
Luce is sitting on an off-white leather bench. Her hands are curled around the edge of the seat and her shoulders are stooped. It’s as though the world has finally crushed her.
But I know better. It wasn’t the world. It was me.
Her face is colorless, but dry. I thought it was the worst when she cried silently, but I was wrong. It’s worse when she can’t even muster tears. The warriorlike mask she puts on to face the world has fractured, the shield and armor gone. A glimpse of unbearable agony flashes between the cracks. It’s like she’s in such pain she can’t even cry.
“Luce,” I say softly.
“Congratulations.”
Her tone is flat and inflectionless. It’s more damning than her screaming. Fear leaves a sharp tang in my drying mouth.
She keeps her gaze on the floor. “You got exactly what you wanted.”
I move so we can talk face to face and crouch in front of her. “Ididn’twant this for you.” I reach out and lay my hands over hers. They’re icy. I squeeze, trying to warm them. Cling to hope because she doesn’t pull away.
Something bright flares in her eyes as she looks at me. “Your brothersdidn’tvote against me?”
I’d give anything to be able to say no, but I can’t lie. And my hesitation is response enough. The light dims. She removes her hands from mine and lays them in her lap. “I see.”
The pain of having her withdraw slips into my heart like a knife. I had no idea how much it would hurt to be shut out. “In the beginning, I planned this because I was angry with you. But then later, I thought maybe you should step down from your position and learn the business as a junior executive or something because I thought the difficulties you’ve had were due to your lack of experience. A lot of your projects failed because of miscommunication and minor mismanagements.”
“I understand why you didn’t tell me you wanted to kick me out at first. But why didn’t you talk to me about your concerns over my experience later, after we got closer?” she asks quietly, her eyes glassy.
“It’s my fault. I should’ve said something sooner.” I should’ve done everything in my power to ensure I wasn’t the cause of her pain.
Two unbearable heartbeats. “Did you want me to succeed when you listened to my presentation for today and tried to help tweak it?”
“I did—”
