Page 31 of After-Hours Heir

“I want what I want,” he said. “And I am willing to do what I need to get it. I thought that was explicitly clear.”

“Months,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Months and months,” her words grew in intensity, “of being terrorized by you and your intent to acquire my company, and now you’re justgivingit to me?”

“Everything has changed, Miss Jones. Or did you not notice?”

Her features softened; he was shocked by that. She suddenly looked like perhaps what he had said made sense. And he realized when he said it, how true it was. He really didn’t believe in love. He didn’t much care about anyone or anything. But that was why it was easy to transfer the company back to her. Shedidn’t seem to understand that. That the brilliant thing about living the way he did was that when something else became a bigger priority, he could sacrifice the thing that had mattered previously.

She held on to so many things too tightly. While he…he pivoted easily. For that reason.

“What exactly do you envisage for a marriage?” she asked, her expression violent in a way he nearly found amusing.

He’d seen her look at him like that across boardroom tables many times.

This was different.

“I don’t know that I envisage anything for marriage. It can be nothing more than printed paper, and it does not need to last the duration of the child’s youth. But it is important to me that we are married when the child is born.”

“I see. And as far as our relationship goes?”

He felt like there was an ice block in his chest. But that was nothing new.

“There is no need for us to engage in one. I should like you to move in with me. I believe that you should be kept close.”

He didn’t question himself. It was logical. Easy. Anyway, she had wanted him to be involved in this process. So he was considering himself involved.

“I see. And what you want, that’s going to be the definitive answer here?”

“I have the most power of the two of us, Miss Jones. That means that I will be the one to get my way.”

“You have power in the traditional sense.”

“Yes. And the traditional sense is the only one that really matters.”

“That isn’t true. Normal people can use social media now and gain sympathy and—”

“If only you could eat sympathy. If only you could buy a house with it. But you cannot. How can you paint someone as the villain when they already did? Those kinds of campaigns only work if your opponent cares what the public thinks, and I have made a study of not caring. Better, I don’t have to study it. I simply don’t care.”

“How?” she asked. It was an odd question and not what he had expected. Why did she care?

“It’s easy. Someone’s opinion of me has never been the determining factor in my survival. I have only ever been able to count on myself. Once you start caring about the opinions of others, you involve other people, and whether or not you might live or die. And I refuse to leave that fate to anyone else.”

They were silent for a moment.

“What are you talking about? You are continually mentioning gladiators, battles, and life and death.”

“Where do you think I came from,agape?”

The Greek slipped out. Unbidden. He didn’t use his native tongue often. He had no remaining accent.

“I suppose I haven’t given it a thought. When one is about to be eaten by a tiger, one does not wonder where the tiger was born.”

He surprised himself by laughing. Because she was genuinely amusing. It reminded him of the texts she used to send.

Texts he no longer received and would not again.

That was fine. He didn’t need them. If not for this he would never have contacted her again.

He had the sudden realization that wasn’t true, because even if he’d never discovered it, she would have been Sylvie Jones. He would have seen her, interacted with her at the company. And what would have happened?