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“How about you? You really want to spearhead this huge undertaking just to get back at your father?”
“I never shy away from a challenge. I promise you my team and I will be the perfect fit. A mix of drive, passion and technology knowledge.”
She touched her forehead. “I need to think about it.”
Progress. He’d take that any day. “Let me know by next week. I’ll set up a meeting with everyone, and we can start a conversation,” he said, pleased at how casual he sounded.
* * *
Kira smiled, glancing at how organized her file folders were on her computer screen. Maybe it’d take Luc to get on board, but once he learned her new system, he’d agree that it saved them time and it was more efficient.
Yeah, girlfriend, try to teach the tech guru how to use technology. Luc had gone on a business lunch without her, the kind of informal meeting that didn’t need her presence. She’d use the time to catch up at work. Whenever she went to the break room or walked by other assistants, she made a point to small talk and smile.
She imagined a few of them felt weird about her barely working there and then marrying the boss. If they only knew…
Her phone buzzed, and she retrieved it from her drawer.
A text from her mother, asking for her flight information.
How did she break the news to her mother that her husband didn’t fly commercial, and that they’d rent some fancy car that probably cost way too much and therefore didn’t need a ride from the airport? She set her phone on the smooth surface of the glassy table.
Renting a car and driving home would be way better. Having her mother in the car asking all kinds of questions right off the bat could throw a monkey wrench in her plan of surviving the weekend with her reputation unscathed. What if her mother suspected anything? Though, now, they’d admitted to each other that they were falling in love.
So it wasn’t as much faking the sentiment, more like the circumstances.
“Kira?” a male voice called her, cutting her train of thoughts.
She lifted her gaze to find Charles watching her with interest. “Oh, hi. How can I help you, Mr. Montague? Luc hasn’t returned from lunch yet.”
“I’m aware,” he said, without moving a muscle. “How was your trip?”
“Good.”
“How is…” he started, then cleared his throat, “Luc’s mother?”
“She’s okay,” she said, shifting in her seat. She wasn’t sure how much Charles knew about her illness, if he knew the nuances of it, but she didn’t want to give him a medical report. An invisible blade of guilt pierced into her stomach. “Why?”
He crossed his arms. “Okay was also the only information I was able to get out of Luc.”
She swallowed. What did he expect her to say? “I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it. Sure, she held some resentment toward her parents because of their favoritism toward her sister growing up, but… damn. The lack of affection and communication between Luc and his father took strained family relationships to another level. “Have you tried talking to him?”
“I asked him when he returned, and he said okay,” he repeated.
“No. I mean… have you tried talking to him about how you two can move on, and get along better?” she asked, stretching into the chair.
He uncrossed his arms and strolled around the space for a moment, eyeing the floor like he registered her words. Did she cross the line? God, she hoped not. If her fairy tale with her current husband ended, she could still use Mr. Montague’s help setting her own business.
“I’ve asked him to move here and he showed interest in working at Montague Corp. Isn’t that enough to get us going? We don’t talk about the past,” he said evenly.
“Maybe you should. Keeping these old unresolved feelings bottled up only makes the present more complicated.” She should know… she’d shared her childhood grievances with her cousins growing up, one of their reasons their bond was so solid. They trusted each other. Would her life have been different if she had been more honest with her parents?
She was a kid, though. And Mr. Montague was a grown ass man. He had to know the difference by now.
“I doubt my son would welcome a conversation like that. The past isn’t that simple,” he said in an impatient tone that prevented her from probing further.
“You won’t know if you don’t try it,” she offered, then bit the inside of her cheek to keep from asking more. A nervous energy bounced between them, and she wondered what he meant by the vague comment about the past not being simple.
That much she could gather, but what didn’t he want her to know?
“Maybe I will one day,” he said, and without waiting for her reply, turned around and left.
