“And if she refuses.” Chandler goaded.
“Then nothing changes.”
Chandler studied me for another long moment. Geoffrey nodded once. “Very well.”
Chandler exhaled. “God help us.”
“Now leave me. I have work to do.”
I tried to ignore the glance they exchanged. I know this had to sound crazy. Thiswascrazy, yet to me it made complete sense. She would move in. I would help her heal, and then everything would go back to normal . . . I didn't even believe that.
I remained in my study longer than necessary, reviewing documents, until there was a small knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Belle stepped inside. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair slightly damp at the temples from the kitchen heat.
“Dinner,” she said.
“I told you to rest,” I snapped at her. I wanted to take back the words immediately, but Belle was not intimidated.
She merely put her hands on her hips and said, “Do you want to eat it or not?”
“You should not have come up the stairs. You could have sent Geoffrey. Or even called.”
She cocked her head, silently evaluating me. “I don’t have your number.”
I picked up my cell phone from my desk and texted her. Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
“Now you do. Use it whenever you need.”
Her brows furrowed for a brief moment. I knew she was having trouble figuring me out. I was having the same problem myself today.
She leaned lightly against the doorframe.
“Anyway, like I said. Dinner is ready. Are you coming?” she asked, “or should I send it up on a tray like a secret Victorian child?”
“I’m coming.”
I stood.
As we walked toward the dining room, I became acutely aware of her presence beside me. She moved carefully, putting as little weight on her injured leg as possible, but refused assistance. Her stubbornness amused me. She was a walking contradiction, and I couldn’t stop trying to figure her out. She was soft in appearance, yet unyielding in practice. I did not understand how those things coexisted so seamlessly in her. Firm but soft. Resilient but exhausted. Angry but ethical. I needed to understand.
We reached the dining room.
Candles were unnecessary, but Geoffrey had lit them regardless.
Belle noticed.
“Is this ambiance for the contract negotiations?” she asked dryly.
“It is standard practice.”
“For mergers?”
“Yes.”
She almost smiled. We sat across from one another. Plates already arranged. The room felt larger than usual. She folded her hands briefly on the table. There was something uncharacteristically still about her.
