Chapter 87

The door stood ajar. With hurried movements betraying his fear that Isabella might reconsider, Lucas slipped inside.

"Ms. Sinclair, visiting your place always feels like navigating a minefield. Brutal!"

His eyes drank in the sight of the woman illuminated by soft lighting. The silk robe clung to her curves like liquid moonlight. That rosy flush on her cheeks? Absolutely mesmerizing.

Lucas had to consciously remember to breathe.

"Mr. Grant, your staring is becoming rather inappropriate." Sebastian observed icily.

"Appreciating beauty is human nature. I'm merely admiring a masterpiece without any ulterior motives." Lucas flashed an easy grin.

His excuse was so absurd it bordered on comical.

"So, is this Henri's latest creation?" Isabella's gaze locked onto the box in his arms.

"Indeed. Acquired two - one for Reginald's birthday, and this special one just for you."

Lucas' eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. "Isabella, Henri only crafts ten pieces annually. Each one's practically a national treasure!"

She cleared her throat delicately. "Have you dined? Care to join me if not?"

"Starving! Been camped outside The Chateau Royale since dawn. My stomach's digesting itself!" Lucas' voice trembled with theatrical hunger.

Sebastian rolled his eyes so hard it's a miracle they didn't get stuck.

"Sebastian, prepare Mr. Grant some spaghetti Bolognese." Isabella commanded while accepting the box, already moving toward the sitting area.

"Perhaps Mr. Grant finds our hospitality lacking." Sebastian seized the opportunity. "Our humble cooking might not meet your refined palate."

"Nonsense! Who said that? Lies! I'll devour anything you make!" Lucas clutched his chest as if wounded.

While Sebastian cooked, Isabella and Lucas examined Henri's creation in the parlor. The crystal fan unfolded like frozen water, its intricate latticework carved from a single flawless quartz. Static yet alive with movement.

"Exquisite..." Isabella breathed, fingertips hovering above the sculpture. The piece seemed to glow under her touch.

Lucas' gaze snagged on her hands - more delicate than the artwork itself, rendering the priceless fan dull by comparison.

"You like it?" Lucas tilted his head, studying her reaction.

"Immensely. Henri's craftsmanship is peerless." Joy radiated from her like sunlight.

"Me too..."

"Thank you, Mr. Grant. This was thoughtful." Her expression sobered. "But I can't accept such generosity. Name your price."

"Isabella, you're breaking my heart." Lucas pressed a hand to his chest dramatically.

"I've coveted Henri's work for years. Planned a trip to Paris just to acquire one. Your timing is impeccable." She smiled. "Let's make this transactional - you're compensated, I'm satisfied. I dislike debts."

"Absolutely not!"

"Then state your terms. Within reason."

Lucas' face lit up. He leaned closer. "Reginald's birthday gala next week. Accompany me?"

"Choose differently."

"You just agreed to terms!"

"Impossible." Her gaze turned serious. "I've promised Alexander I'd attend as his granddaughter-in-law. After this, our ties sever. Arriving with another man would disrespect him. I want his final birthday with me to be... peaceful."

Something vulnerable flickered in her eyes.

"You're too good for that fool." Lucas sighed, then realized without his friend's idiocy, he'd never have met this remarkable woman.

"New terms then." She traced the fan's edge lovingly.

"Stop calling me 'Mr. Grant'? Something... friendlier?" He looked absurdly hopeful.

"That's all? I rarely grant such requests."

"Dining with you is prize enough!" Lucas' gaze turned molten.

"Lucas it is, then."

"Yes! Just Lucas!" His heart hammered against his ribs.

This felt like progress. To him, his given name from her lips might as well mean 'darling'.

"Miss, dinner's served."

Sebastian reappeared, apron-clad. His demeanor toward Isabella: gentle. Toward Lucas: glacial. "Added extra chili to his portion."

Here's hoping Lucas couldn't handle spice!

16:44

"Isabella, isn't a male housekeeper... unconventional? Our family maid - fifteen years of service, exceptional cook. Want me to arrange an introduction?" Lucas smirked at Sebastian.

Sebastian's grip crumpled the apron.

Lucas mentally scoffed. Who did this glorified assistant think he was?

"Sebastian and I grew up together. He stays." Her voice turned arctic. "Mr. Grant, isn't your family preoccupied with that pipeline acquisition?"

Sebastian warmed at her defense.

Lucas nearly choked. This 'housekeeper' was her childhood friend? And Alexander allowed this man near his woman? Was this some twisted display of confidence?

"Wait in the dining room. I'll join after storing this." Carefully repacking the artwork, Isabella ascended the stairs, steps light as a sparrow.

Lucas couldn't resist snapping a photo of her retreating form. Even candid, the shot belonged in a gallery.

His phone buzzed. Alexander - in one of his moods, demanding drinks. Smugness overtook Lucas. He sent the photo.

Two seconds later, his phone rang.

"Hello?" Lucas turned, lowering his voice.

Alexander's tone could freeze hell over. "You're with Isabella now?"

"Not just with her. In her home." Lucas gloated.

"Where does she live?!" The growl sent shivers down spines.

"You don't even know your ex-wife's address? Pathetic. Clearly she doesn't want you knowing."

"Last chance. Location."

Lucas laughed. "Make me."

16:44