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"We will. I've been researching acquisition targets in lifestyle programming. Small networks, digital platforms, companies that could benefit from someone with proven audience engagement skills."
Malcolm had studied the papers I'd prepared, his silver eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. "This is quite comprehensive. When did you have time to research all this?"
"I've been working on it for weeks." The lie came easily, though in truth I'd spent every spare moment since our first night together building this proposal. "The American host—Lili Anderton—has remarkable sales instincts. Waste like that is inefficient."
"Inefficient," Malcolm repeated slowly. "And yet you've never shown such personal interest in personnel retention before. In fact, I believe your usual position is that emotional attachments to staff complicate business decisions unnecessarily."
If Malcolm discovered my personal interest in Lili's welfare, it wouldn't just end my involvement in the acquisition—it could destroy my reputation entirely.
Conflicts of interest were career-ending in our world, and emotional compromise was seen as the worst kind of professional weakness.
"This is different," I said carefully. "The talent is exceptional, and the potential return on investment significant."
He'd agreed to consider the proposal, which was more than I'd dared hope for. But the negotiations were delicate, requiring me to advocate for Lili without revealing the true nature of my interest. Every conversation was a careful dance around the truth.
Meanwhile, our stolen moments had become the highlights of increasingly complicated days. We met in shadows and empty rooms, learning each other in fragments.
I discovered that Lili hummed unconsciously when she was content, usually old country songs her Mother had sung while cooking. She learned that I kept a volume of poetry hidden behind legal texts in my study—Yeats, whose romantic idealism had always seemed impractical until I found myself living it.
Every conversation felt like a minefield. Every glance between Lili and me at dinner could be scrutinized for meaning. I found myself cataloguing facial expressions, measuring the duration of casual touches, calculating the risk in every stolen smile.
"This is crazy," she'd whispered one midnight as we sat in the conservatory, her head on my shoulder while exotic flowers perfumed the air around us. Moonlight filtered through the glass ceiling, casting intricate patterns across her skin.
"Completely," I'd agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Worth it?"
"Ask me when we don't have to hide anymore."
But hiding was becoming increasingly difficult. The house seemed smaller somehow, filled with eyes that might notice too much. Mother had taken to making pointed observations about the "improved color in your cheeks, darling" and Daphne kept asking why I was suddenly so interested in estate maintenance, since she'd spotted me near the folly multiple times.
Most concerning was James, whose lawyer instincts were beginning to surface in uncomfortable ways.
"You're different," he'd said yesterday, settling into the chair across from my desk with the casual confidence of our twenty-year friendship.
"Different how?"
"Distracted. Secretive. Last week you forgot about the Morrison deposition entirely—something that's never happened in the decade I've known you." His hazel eyes had been sharp with curiosity. "And then there's the interesting pattern of yourbilling hours. Sixty percent more research time on a routine acquisition, multiple consultations with employment law specialists, and at least three calls to headhunters specializing in media talent. All for a simple corporate buyout."
"I've been having trouble sleeping."
"Right. And I'm sure your insomnia has nothing to do with the way you keep checking your phone for messages or the fact that you've been researching media companies with the dedication of a man possessed."
James had always been too observant for comfort. Where others saw my professional façade, he noticed the tells that betrayed deeper currents.
The way my jaw tensed when Mother mentioned Lili at dinner. The careful neutrality of my tone when discussing the transition timeline. The fact that I'd been working from the estate more often, finding excuses to remain close to home.
"You're investigating something," he'd continued. "Or someone. The question is whether it's related to business or personal matters."
"Can't it be both?"
"That's what worries me."
This morning's near-miss had only reinforced my growing paranoia. Lili and I had been in the old drawing room—a space rarely used by family but perfect for clandestine meetings—when we'd heard footsteps in the corridor. She'd barely had time to slip behind the heavy curtains before Daphne had entered, looking for a book she'd apparently left there weeks ago.
"Edward? What are you doing here so early?"
"Reviewing contracts," I'd said, gesturing to the papers I'd scattered across the writing desk as camouflage. "The light is better in here."