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He did have a reputation for ruthlessness in business, but since that ruthless attitude rarely got directed toward the rank-and-file employees, she didn't hold it against him.
Personally, Rowan thought that the management Lysander was known for winnowing were probably notall that. Or her lover would never let them go. He was too savvy for blunders like that.
"Maybe to other people, but you are to me."
"It is not kindness when it is truth," he said in a tone that sounded like a warning.
She merely shook her head in response. He wanted her to think he would be ruthless with her, and they both knew he would not. Not until it came time to say goodbye. For however long this thing between them lasted, Rowan had a unique position in Lysander's life, similar to his mother's.
"I guarantee my mother won't agree and my father will be livid I'm not sitting with him and trying to make things up with Cyrus."
"It is unfortunate that he will be angry, but that was the point of this, wasn't it?" Lysander reached across the table and took her hand.
He was always touching her. A fingertip brushing along her jawline. Sitting close enough to her on the couch so their thighs touched, and he could easily put his arm over her shoulders. But her favorite was how he cupped her nape.
That gave her shivers every time. And it made her feel special. There was not a single photo of Lysander in the tabloids or society pages touching a woman in a similar way. Yes, Rowan had paid attention over the years. She'd been curious.
Her inner voice said now might be the time to admit it had been more than innocent curiosity, but Rowan wasn't admitting anything. Not even to herself.
When she didn't reply, Lysander asked, "You wanted to let both families know that you are unequivocally over Cyrus and have moved on from your failed marriage, did you not?"
"Yes." She sighed. "In theory anyway." In practice, facing the guaranteed censure from her family made acid churn in Rowan's stomach.
He tugged at her hand until she was standing and then pulled her to him and into his lap. "If you want to cancel tonight, we can." He kissed the corner of her lips. "My donation is the same whether I attend, or not."
Rowan sucked in a shocked breath at the offer. She knew attending this gala was important to Lysander, though she did not know why. He never missed.
"No." She turned her head so his dark brown eyes could see the sincerity in hers. "Thank you for offering that. It means a lot, but no. We are going. I will deal with my parents like I have always done."
The best she could and with antacids tucked into her evening bag.
"This time I will be with you."
It was a sweet sentiment, if not as reassuring as she was sure he intended it to be. What could Lysander do to mitigate motherly disapproval, or fatherly disappointment?
~ ~ ~
The answer to that question came later in the evening.
Rowan walked into the gala, her hand tucked in the crook of Lysander's tuxedo clad arm and chatter had started immediately.
She heard things like, "Isn't that Rowan Andino with Lysander Baros?" and "What is she doing here? I thought she'd moved back to the States."
Lysander ignored it all and Rowan did her best to pretend she did too, though the back of her neck was hot with embarrassment. She kept her head up though and her face placid as she and Lysander followed the server leading them to their table.
Her father stepped in front of them, his expression stern, forcing the server to halt.
Lysander had no choice but to stop as well, though he did it so naturally, it seemed like stopping to talk to her father was Lysander's idea.
"Mr. Johnson." Lysander acknowledged her father with a slight dip of his chin.
"Mr. Baros, my daughter's seat is over there." He pointed to the table where her mother sat with the Andinos.
"You are mistaken." Though his face showed not the slightest emotion, Lysander's voice was cold as the arctic. "She is sitting with me."
"But Cyrus bought her ticket."
"My brother may have purchased an extra ticket, but it was not formycompanion."
