“All right.” The words were soft, but she managed to make them clear. She lifted her chin with as much dignity as she could as she moved to the doorframe, staring him straight in the eye even as everything inside her ached. “Goodbye, Aaron.” She grasped the frame and paused for a moment, biting her lip, wishing it could be different. “I’m—I wish—I—if you ever—” She shook her head as he stood there unmoved. Ducking her head, she slipped out onto the street.
“Goodbye, Isabelle,” he called as he closed the door behind her.
Isabelle pressed her fingers against her temples before signing yet another document. Another contract term analysis demanded by the Berab brothers. She glanced at the early-morning sun peeking cheerfully through the window—mocking her. In a few hours it would set to the noise of arriving guests. The last festival. The last midnight. The time when all her plans would come to a head and her fate would be sealed. When she would agree to marry Solomon Weiss, with whom she could preserve her family’s influence over the company and their place in the community. Take back her role—force David Berab to give her a fair chance to prove herself.
Keep her father’s name on the door. Keep him alive, even if he wasn’t.
Leaning forward to keep the pressure off her stays, she inhaled as deeply as she could, permitting the spring air to swirl through her lungs. She could do this. She could. She would tell her grandmother she was going to marry Weiss, and they’d come to an agreement with his brother and announce it at midnight, like she’d planned from the beginning.
Simple. And necessary. And practical. And what everyone wanted.
She fingered her dagger beneath the folds of her day dress, her thumb rubbing the etched “L.”It’s who we are—who we both are.Her father’s voice from so long ago whispered in her mind. She was strong enough to bear it all. The community would advance, her family would be secure, and Aaron would . . . find happiness someplace else with someone better. Someone who could actually give him what he deserved.
Sighing once more, she stared at her personal ledger. Two hundred pounds. Gone. Well, not gone. Where it belonged. Where it would do good. She straightened the corner with her thumb, making it neat and tidy once more. Like her life would be once she completed the plan she’d launched less than a month ago. Her first solo success.
“Are you ready for tonight?” Pena’s voice from across the room nearly made her jump from her skin.
“I won’t be if I accidentally gouge out my eye.” She laid down her pen before rising to walk over and give the man a kiss on the cheek. “It’s customary to knock before entering someone’s quarters, you know.” She smoothed her skirts before pushing the door shut again.
“Attackers do not follow protocol,” he told her as he moved through the threshold. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all of our lessons? Or is it that you have a great deal on your mind?” His voice was gentle, and for some reason that made pressure sting behind her eyes.
“I always have a great deal on my mind because I have a great deal of responsibility. That’s part of adulthood.” She puffed her sleeves.
“Part of adulthood is knowing what responsibilities are yours alone and what are best shared.” Pena’s dark eyes searched hers.
“I’ll meet with grandmother today so we can finalize arrangements,” she told him. “Take on another member of the household to whom there can be some delegation.” It was time. She had forestalled long enough.
“So your choice is truly resolved?” Pena raised a single eyebrow as he moved farther into the room, standing before the fireplace. The flames, like the bright sun outside, barely affected the chill that spread through her bones.
“I’m sure we’ll all grow to enjoy the Weiss family.” She kept her chin steady through the entire statement, even as that damned lump came back.
“We’ll do our best.” He leaned against the mantel, crossing his legs, his eyes boring into her. “Including you, apparently.”
“He’s the most reasonable choice. And the right one.”
“Is he?” Both graying eyebrows arched, and somehow that near broke her.
She threw her fingers over her eyes and pressed for a long moment. She’d readjust her soot later.
“What do you want me to say?” She stared at the black lines marring the tips of her gloves. “There are more things afoot than my own happiness.”
“Yes, the business, your father’s seat on the Commission of Delegates, a bill—all demanding a certain type of man at your side, I know. All of which are important and worthwhile.” Pena raised a finger. “But I can tell you that your own happiness, as you call it, still has value too.”
“I’ll be happy enough.” She sucked in a breath as Aaron’s face flashed before her eyes. And the tears were right below the surface, but she was almost beyond caring. Mr. Machiavelli would tell her this was a mistake and that she was being weak, but then perhaps she truly was weak. Or didn’t deserve the things she’d been given. She gripped the back of a carved mahogany chair, grounding herself in the firm, stalwart wood.
“The world does not allow—the plan is the only way to keep the life he created for me.” She stared into the fire, the lump solidifying so it took everything in her to push the words through. “The life I want.” She forced a calm, dignified nod. “I’ll learn to love Solomon Weiss as best as I can. Because you can love more than one person.” Her lungs pressed against her ribs as she studied the man she’d known for so long. “My father did, didn’t he?”
Pena’s swallow was visible as he shook his head, and she hated herself a little for forcing the question on him, but she had to know, had to have the reassurance.
“I never met your mother, but based on everything he said, yes, he loved her very much.” He stared at the ground, and she hated herself more than a little for the pain she’d brought.
“And he loved you as well. Very much.” Her voice was choked. “So it is possible.”
“It’s possible.” Pena nodded before moving forward. He took her chin in his hands. “I just—you deserve better than what you’re choosing.”
She stared up at him as her eyes grew moist to match his. “There’s no real choice, though, is there? At least not for me.”
“There’s always a choice.” Pena shook his head again. “Your father could’ve remarried, could’ve given you siblings . . .”
