Page 47 of Vance

“I suggest you finish your drinks. Dinner will be served in ten minutes.” Turning her attention to Sophia, her expression softens. “Why don’t you come with me, dear? Give my boys a few minutes to find their manners before dinner.”

I release Sophia’s hand and dip my head, silently telling her to go with my mother. Her eyes meet mine for a second before she follows Mom toward the doorway. “They’re testing you, dear,” Mom tells her quietly when they step into the hall. “Don’t let them get to you.”

“Shit.” Beckett’s voice pulls my attention from the threshold. I turn to find a huge shit-eating grin on his face. “You actually fucking like her.”

“Don’t fucking start.”

“Oh, we’re starting,” Baldwin chuffs.

I reach for my drink, taking a slow swallow. “I’m tied to her for the rest of my fucking life,” I insist, setting the glass down. “You assholes could at least attempt to be civil.”

This family has never been easy. My father built an empire on ruthlessness, and his sons inherited every brutal instinct he possessed. Some of them beaten into us. Sophia has spent years fighting us in boardrooms; now she’s expected to break bread with us. I feel the weight of what I’m asking her to endure as I walk into the dining room with my brothers.

The room is candlelit, the long table set with Mom’s best china. Sophia sits beside my mother, her spine straight and her shoulders back, carrying herself with a quiet confidence that suggests she belongs here, even if some part of her doubts it.

I settle beside her, my hand immediately finding her thigh beneath the table. She startles at the contact, then relaxes into my touch as my fingers wrap around her thigh through the thin fabric of her dress. The grip is possessive, a quiet reminder of who she belongs to. But there’s reassurance in it, too. I’m here. I have her.

My father’s will may have forced my hand in marriage, but it didn’t create this. I wanted Sophia long before then. My desire for her was never in question. What I never expected is that somewhere between wanting her and having her, I might actually be falling for her.

Vance’s fingers close around my chin, gently steering my face toward his. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through me. I have to remind myself that we’re in his office, his assistant is outside, and I have a reputation to maintain beyond being his wife.

“You’re not listening,” he says with amusement threaded in his irritation. “I asked if you have reviewed the demolition permits.”

“Yes. I reviewed them.” I pull the file toward me and flip it open with more force than necessary, thumbing through the paperwork. “They’re in order. The city has approved all but one of the zoning ordinances. Everything is proceeding on schedule.”

Good.” He leans back in his chair, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin heat. “I’ll have one of my brothers handle the zoning issue. Once that’s secured, you’ll need to clear your calendar.”

I raise an eyebrow. “For what?”

“I want you there, sweetheart.” His instruction leaves no room for argument. “For the demolition.”

I look up from the paperwork, surprised. “You want me at the demolition?”

“I want you at everything.” The words come out low, almost rough, before he catches himself and adds, more professionally, “For the photo-ops. You’re the VP of Strategic Development. Your signature is on half these permits. It makes sense for you to be present.”

“Of course.” I try to keep my voice neutral, but warmth spreads through my chest despite my best efforts. “That makes sense.”

He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You’ll need to dress differently on site.”

I glance at the tailored dress, silk stockings, and stilettos he selected. “Different how?”

“Practical.”

A laugh escapes me. “You’re the one who put half my wardrobe in my closet.”

“And I’m also the one telling you that none of it belongs on an active construction site.”

“I’ll have you know, these shoes are perfectly comfortable.”

His gaze drops pointedly to my red-soled stilettos. “Those shoes have no business anywhere near a construction site.” The corner of his mouth lifts, but his expression sobers as he stands and rounds the desk. “There will be plant equipment moving, debris underfoot, and contractors coming and going. I want you safe.”

His hand settles lightly on my knee, causing my pulse to skip.

“You’ll stay with me,” he states simply, his thumb brushing over my knee before his palm slides inappropriately high up my thigh. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

“Vance…” I whisper, pleading for him to stop before someone notices my legs parting for his wandering hand.

“Sweetheart,” he counters, his voice dropping to the register he knows affects me. “If I wanted to fuck you on this desk, I would. I’m merely… appreciating what’s mine.”