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"Careful." I repeated the word as if tasting it, loosening my tie slightly—a rare concession to discomfort. "In what sense?"
"You know Mother disapproves of Lili. And your position at the law firm—getting involved with an employee working for a company which you are acquiring could be seen as unprofessional." The words sounded rehearsed, as if she'd practiced them. Her phone buzzed yet again, and this time she actually picked it up, reading the message with a smile that transformed her entire expression.
"Daphne." My voice sharpened, fingers drumming against the leather armrest. "Who are you texting?"
"What? Oh, just a friend." She waved dismissively, but color rose in her cheeks. "We're not talking about me. We're talking about you and Lili."
"Are we? Because you seem rather more interested in your correspondence than in my supposed romantic entanglements."
She had the grace to look guilty, shoving the phone into her handbag with perhaps more force than necessary. "I'm concerned about both of you. Lili's my friend, and you're my brother. I don't want either of you to get hurt by something that can't possibly work out."
"And why can't it possibly work out?"
The question seemed to surprise her. "Edward, be realistic. You're from completely different worlds. Mother will never accept her, the family will never approve, and your career—"
"Interesting perspective." I leaned back in my chair, my lawyer instincts fully engaged now. "Particularly coming from my sister who practically forced me to take Lili on a tour of London. Who insisted I show her the National Gallery. Who seemed positively delighted when James mentioned the obvious attraction between us."
Daphne's face went pale, then flushed red. "I just thought... I mean, I wanted her to feel welcome—"
"Don't." My voice cut through her stammering. "You orchestrated that entire day, Daphne. You practically shoved us together at every opportunity. James was there—he saw it too. So forgive me if I find your sudden concern about the 'impossibility' of the situation rather convenient."
She fidgeted with her handbag strap, unable to meet my eyes. "People can change their minds about things."
"Can they? Or perhaps people can have hidden agendas that require a convenient distraction?" I watched her face carefully, noting every micro-expression. "What aren't you telling me,Daphne?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended. “My career is none of your concern. Neither is my personal life."
"But it is my concern!" For the first time, she sounded genuinely emotional. "Lili is my friend, and I brought her here. If she gets hurt because I introduced her to this world, to our family, to you..." She trailed off, looking younger than her years.
I studied her carefully, noting the way she avoided direct eye contact, the nervous energy that seemed to radiate from her in waves. "Daphne, what aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing! God, Edward, not everything is a conspiracy." She stood abruptly, smoothing down her skirt with jerky motions. "I just want everyone to be happy and safe. Is that so terrible?"
Before I could respond, her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, and her entire demeanor changed—shoulders relaxing, a genuine smile replacing the forced one she'd been wearing. The transformation was so complete it was almost startling.
"I have to take this," she said, already moving toward the door. "But think about what I said, Edward. Some risks aren't worth taking."
She disappeared into the hallway, and I heard her answer the call with a breathless "Hello, darling," that confirmed my suspicions about her distracted state.
I sat back in my chair, the sound of London traffic drifting up from the street below, and opened the acquisition folder again. I forced myself to read every detail, every financial projection, every recommendation forhuman resource optimization.
The clinical language couldn't disguise the human cost. Within a week of the acquisition's completion, the entire UK operation would be shuttered. Every employee would be terminated. Lili's visa would become invalid.
She would have to return to America.
The thought hit me like a physical blow, leaving me momentarily breathless. I'd known Lili for less than a month,had shared perhaps a dozen conversations with her, and yet the idea of her absence felt like contemplating a world without color.
I could save her. One word from me, and Malcolm would find another target for acquisition. But that word would cost me everything.
Years of building an unassailable reputation. Partnership track at Britain's most prestigious firm. The respect of peers who'd never seen me make a decision based on emotion rather than logic.
All of it would crumble the moment I chose heart over headstrong ambition.
The rational part of my mind catalogued all the reasons why saving her company was impossible. The emotional part—a part I'd spent years suppressing—whispered a single, dangerous word: why?
Why had I spent fifteen years climbing a ladder that led to an office where I sat alone, surrounded by the trappings of success but devoid of genuine human connection?
Why had I built a life so perfectly ordered that it left no room for spontaneity, for passion, for love?
Why was I more concerned about maintaining my reputation than protecting the dreams of a woman who saw potential in every seed, hope in every garden, beauty in every imperfect thing that dared to grow?