Page 42 of Lucas (The Valeur Billionaires #2)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

LUCAS

“ M r. Valeur?” A woman’s voice asks from the other end of the line, tinny through the phone speaker.

“Yes?” I don’t recognize the voice or the number.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you. I’m Bridget, Ava’s assistant,” she explains, the words tumbling out in a rush. Tension crackles through the line.

I straighten, my heart pounding against my ribs. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Ava?”

“Mr. Gant arrived in her office, and there’s shouting coming from inside,” Bridget’s voice trembles.

“Shouting?” I leap to my feet, already shrugging into my suit jacket, the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. He just barged into her office and started yelling at her. They closed the door, and I’m afraid he’ll hurt her. I didn’t know what to do.” Panic edges her words.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. “You did good, Bridget.” I sprint out of my office, my shoes pounding on the plush carpet.

At the last second, I yell into the phone, “I’m on my way.”

I don’t wait for the elevator, instead flying down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The moment I burst onto the Gant floor, I hear their voices echoing off the walls.

I reach the door of her office, my breath coming hard and fast. Bridget stands outside, pacing back and forth, wringing her hands. Her brow creases with concern.

“What’s going on in there?” I demand, my pulse roaring in my ears.

“I don’t know. He just showed up without an appointment or anything. I couldn’t stop him. He went inside, and then the shouting started. I’m afraid he’ll hurt her. He’s...” She hesitates, biting her lip. “He’s not a calm man.”

I try the door handle, yanking on it again and again, but it doesn’t budge. Locked.

“He locked the door,” Bridget says, her voice small and frightened.

I whirl to face her, my mind racing. “Do you have another key?” I try to gauge the distance I’ll need to run to break down the door with my shoulder.

“Um... I don’t know. Wait...” Her eyes widen. “When we moved to the new offices, the building manager gave me a bunch of spare keys. There must be a key there.” She rushes to her desk and pulls out a key ring from the drawer, the metal jangling.

I grab the keys from her and flip through them until I find the one that matches Ava’s room number. I jam it into the lock and twist. The door swings open.

I step inside, my eyes sweeping the room, taking in the scene in an instant.

Ava stands behind her desk, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her knuckles white. She’s furious, rage emanating from every line of her tense frame.

Furious is good. Furious means she’s not hurt.

Thank fuck for that, because otherwise, I would have killed the bastard on the spot.

My eyes narrow as they land on Michael Gant, standing in front of her desk with a sneer twisting his face.

“Mr. Valeur.” He says my name like it’s something foul, his lip curling. “I don’t recall you being invited to this party.”

“I don’t need an invitation,” I growl, stalking further into the room until I’m standing beside Ava. I place my hand on the small of her back, feeling the way she trembles at my touch.

“Right. That’s your thing, isn’t it? Taking what you want when you want it, destroying everything in your path.” Michael Gant spits the words like venom, his face mottled with anger.

What utter bullshit. He knows damn well who’s the bully here, and it sure as hell isn’t me.

“You’re not welcome here,” I say, my voice low and controlled, though it takes every ounce of my willpower not to let my rage bleed through.

“And you’re not welcome in my company.” He takes a menacing step forward, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

If it were anyone else, I’d already have him on the floor, gasping for breath. But this is Ava’s father, and I force myself to hold back, even as every muscle in my body screams to put him in his place.

“I’m sorry to inform you, buddy, but this company is no longer just yours. You invited me in when you agreed to the contract.”

Michael’s face contorts, turning an alarming shade of crimson. “I’ve worked my whole life for this company, and I’ll be damned if I let it crumble and fall now in my twilight years. It’s still mine, and whatever the hell you’re trying to do here won’t work.”

“I suggest you leave my offices. Now.” I let a hint of steel enter my warning tone.

“Yeah? What do you intend to do? Resort to physical violence?” He lets out a mocking laugh.

“I'd be most intrigued to witness such an attempt. Assaulting an elderly gentleman—how splendidly that would play out in court.” He cuts his gaze to Ava, then back to me, a cruel smile playing about his thin lips. “I won’t go down without a fight. I made a mistake letting her run my company. I’m taking it back. ”

“Thanks for the heads up, but you’ll find out soon enough that you have no way to do that.

You’re welcome to try, of course. I have no problem whatsoever sending my lawyers to deal with you.

I won’t even feel their fees, but you...

Do you think you can afford millions in legal fees over the next few years?

” I give him a smile that’s all teeth, no warmth.

The muscles in my jaw ache from how hard I’m clenching it, holding myself in check.

Michael’s eyes flash with impotent rage.

He rounds on Ava, jabbing a finger at her.

“I see you’ve chosen a side. Sided with the enemy.

I’m the one who raised you, for fuck’s sake!

” He spits the words, and Ava flinches back as if he’d struck her.

“You’re right. We don’t have a family. You are no daughter of mine.

It defies belief that I could have sired such an utterly worthless child. ”

Ava lowers her eyes, her shoulders hunching inward. Her hands tremble at her sides, and even a blind man could see how much his words wound her, each one a dagger to her tender heart. My chest aches in sympathy, in shared pain.

A growl builds in my throat, and Michael’s attention snaps back to me.

“You. Will. Not. Speak. To. My. Wife. That. Way.” I bite out each word, brooking no argument.

“You will not speak to her at all. The next time you do, I will kill you with my bare hands, and I won’t give a damn about the family connection.

Do you hear me?” I close the remaining distance between us until we’re nose to nose, using my superior height to loom over him.

Fear sparks in his eyes before he shutters his expression.

Good.

“Stay away from my wife. You don’t come near her again without clearing it with me first.” My hands itch to wrap around his throat and squeeze until he turns purple.

Michael opens his mouth as if to argue, but something in my face must convince him of the utter stupidity of that course of action. He snaps his jaw shut with an audible click.

“Now get the hell out of my office, and don’t show your face here again.”

For a tense moment, I think he might refuse. Then he spins on his heel and storms out, slamming the door behind him with such force the walls rattle.

As soon as he’s gone, I turn to Ava. To my wife .

My wife.

This is the first time I’ve said it and meant it. The first time I’ve let myself feel the full weight and wonder of it.

She’s not just an arrangement, a business deal. She’s a living, breathing person. A person I love so damn much it frightens me.

Fucking love. Real, messy, complicated, glorious love.

She doesn’t love me back. I know that. But it’s okay.

I don’t expect her to stop hating me overnight, to forget the years of animosity between our families.

I’ll spend the next two years, the rest of my life if she’ll let me, showing her I’ve changed.

That I can be the man she needs, the husband she deserves.

I’ll support her, cherish her, in every way I know how. And I won’t push for more than she’s willing to give. She needs to know that’s not why I want her, not the reason I chose her. I’ll do whatever it takes to convince her to stay.

She’s shaking now, fine tremors running through her body. I close the remaining distance between us and open my arms in silent invitation then wait. After a moment’s hesitation, she steps into my embrace, letting me enfold her in the circle of my arms.

“You’re okay, Wifey,” I murmur into her hair, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Everything will be alright. I’m here now.”

Her slender frame shudders against me, and I tighten my hold, willing my strength into her. “You’re not meeting with him alone anymore. You hear me? If he dares to even text you, you tell me immediately.”

“He doesn’t want me. He never did.” The words are muffled against my chest, soaked in such resigned despair that they crack my heart right down the middle.

I cup her face in my palms and tilt her chin until her shimmering eyes meet mine. “What do you mean, he never wanted you?”

“He told me he never wanted children. He wanted to focus on his career, and kids didn’t interest him. My mom got pregnant by mistake. He wanted her to have an abortion.” Fresh tears spill over, tracing shining tracks down her cheeks.

I shake my head, a spike of anger lancing through me at the implication.

“He told me more than once that I killed her.” Her voice hitches on a sob.

“You didn’t choose to be born, it’s not your fault. And I’m sure your mother loved you from the moment she knew you existed.” I smooth my thumbs over her wet cheeks, catching her tears.

“He never wanted me. And then I turned out to be a girl instead of a boy, and Mom died, and he got stuck with me. I’m his punishment.” Her face crumples, and she dissolves into tears, her slim shoulders heaving.

“Fuck.” I crush her to me, fighting back my own tears. What can I say in the face of such casual cruelty, such vicious rejection? “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so damn sorry.”

I hold her as she cries, whispering nonsense words of comfort even as helpless rage gnaws at my gut. I want to kill him, slowly and painfully.

Her sobs quiet, and she pulls back, swiping at her ravaged face. “Sorry for falling apart on you like that,” she mumbles, not meeting my eyes.

“You have nothing to apologize for. It was a hug, and I offered. Are you okay?” I duck my head, trying to catch her gaze.

“No.” She huffs out a wet laugh. “Yes. I don’t know.”

“Your father was right about one thing—he shouldn’t have had children,” I say, keeping my tone gentle.

Her head snaps up, hurt and betrayal replacing the sadness in her green eyes.

“Because a man like him doesn’t deserve children,” I rush to add, “and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve an amazing daughter like you.

I’m sorry he’s your father, Ava. No one should have such a cruel parent.

He’s too blind and selfish to see what he’s missing, but I’m not.

I’m so damn grateful you exist. I’m grateful you’re here, with me.

” I pull her back into my arms, needing to feel the warm, vital weight of her.

I’m grateful you’re here because I love you , I add silently because she’s not ready for those words yet.

This isn’t the time. Not when she’s raw and vulnerable, not when an ill-timed advance could shatter the fragile trust growing between us.

Someday, though. Someday I’ll say them out loud and pray she believes me. Pray she’ll give me a chance to prove how much I mean it.