A heavy silence settles over the kitchen. The hum of the refrigerator is the only sound in the room.
Audrey looks down at the space between us. She doesn't step back. She stays exactly where she is, anchored in my shadow.
"You're very good at giving pep talks that sound like threats," she whispers.
"It’s a specialized skill."
A tiny, reluctant smile touches the corner of her mouth. It is the first genuine smile I have seen from her since she walked into the bar two nights ago. It completely alters her face, softening the sharp edges and making the physical ache in my chest return with a vengeance.
"So," she says, clearing her throat and stepping back to pick up her coffee. "What’s the agenda for today? Do we have to go to another gala and ruin someone else’s life, or do I get to stay in sweatpants?"
"You get to stay in sweatpants," I reply, stepping back to give her space. "I have meetings at the firm until three. After that, Ihave a conference call with the board of directors to address the sudden spike in media attention regarding my personal life."
"Are they going to fire you for being engaged to a liability?"
"They can't fire me. I own fifty-one percent of the voting shares in the security division." I pick up my empty mug and carry it to the sink. "They will complain. I will ignore them. It is our standard operating procedure."
Audrey leans against the counter, watching me. "And what am I supposed to do all day? I don't have a job anymore. I don't have a car. I am essentially a very well-paid hostage."
"You are a consultant," I correct her. "And as a consultant, you need an office."
I dry my hands on a towel and point toward the hallway leading to the guest wing. "The room next to yours was a secondary guest suite. I had Grant’s team clear out the furniture this morning. There is a drafting table, a dual-monitor computer setup, and a secure internet connection. If you want to start rebuilding your firm, or taking on freelance clients, you have the resources to do it."
Audrey freezes.
The coffee mug in her hand tilts slightly. She stares at me, completely caught off guard.
"You set up an office for me?" she asks, her voice barely audible.
"I told you yesterday that I do not own your professional time." I walk back to the island and pick up my tablet. "If you are going to destroy Simon, you need to be financially independent when this contract ends. You can't do that sitting on a couch watching television."
She doesn't say anything. She just looks down the hallway, then back at me.
For a woman who uses words as a weapon, the absolute silence from her is deafening. She is trying to process the fact that I didn't just give her a place to hide; I gave her a place to work.
"Thank you," she finally whispers.
"Don't thank me, Audrey. It’s a tactical advantage. A working woman is less likely to murder her fake fiancé out of sheer boredom."
She lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. "You really can't just accept a compliment, can you?"
"I accept measurable results." I check the time on the tablet. It is seven-thirty. "I need to leave for the office. Grant will remain in the building. If you need anything, call him. Do not leave the penthouse without security."
"I know the rules, Malcolm."
I stop at the edge of the kitchen. I look back at her.
She is standing in the morning light, wearing my grandmother’s ring, drinking coffee I made for her, in an apartment she refused to leave.
I am a very selfish man.
I turn and walk toward the private elevator before the urge to cross the room and touch her overrides my logic entirely.
The ride down to the lobby is quiet. I spend the twenty minutes in the back of the SUV reviewing the security protocols for the upcoming week. Preston is quiet this morning, which means he is planning something. My father does not absorb a public humiliation without a counterattack.
When I arrive at the Vance Security headquarters in the Loop, the atmosphere in the building is tense.
The receptionist sits up straighter when I walk through the glass doors. The junior analysts in the bullpen avoid eye contact. The rumor mill is already operating at maximum capacity.
