Page 52 of Ruined by My Ex’s Dad (Silver Fox Obsession #2)

T he summer evening bathed the Turner Holdings rooftop garden in golden light, transforming the corporate gathering into something almost magical.

String lights twinkled overhead, champagne flowed freely, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of roses from the carefully tended planters that lined the perimeter.

I stood near the edge, Charlotte balanced on my hip, her tiny hand resting against the pendant that hung around my neck—the gold key that had once symbolized my independence and now represented something far more complex.

At sixteen months old, our daughter was a perfect fusion of her parents—Lucas's piercing blue eyes set in a face that otherwise mirrored my own, her copper-gold curls catching the light with each movement of her head.

She had been born just four months after that unforgettable night when I’d learned she was coming, filling our lives with equal parts chaos and wonder. And now, eighteen months had passed since her birth—months that had reshaped us in ways neither of us could have imagined.

"There's my girls." Lucas appeared at my side, one arm sliding around my waist with casual possessiveness, the other reaching for Charlotte, who squealed with delight at the sight of her father.

"The board meeting ran long. Reynolds insisted on reviewing the quarterly projections a third time."

"And you let him?" I teased, adjusting Charlotte's dress as she lunged toward Lucas with complete confidence that he would catch her.

"The great Lucas Turner, allowing a subordinate to waste his time?"

His expression softened as Charlotte settled against his chest, tiny fingers immediately reaching for his tie.

"Some battles aren't worth fighting, especially when they delay my return to the people who matter."

The transformation in him over the past year still caught me by surprise sometimes—not a fundamental change in character, but a shift in priorities, a reordering of what constituted essential versus optional demands on his attention.

Lucas Turner, who had once measured life in acquisitions and achievements, now measured it in Charlotte's milestones and our shared moments.

"The Peterson account is officially signed," I informed him, accepting the glass of sparkling water he'd brought me.

"The largest client Alder West has ever landed."

"Congratulations." The pride in his voice contained no trace of the condescension I'd heard from men in the past. No diminishment of my achievement, no subtle repositioning to claim influence.

"They're lucky to have you."

"Mrs. Turner!" Eleanor Chen approached, champagne in hand, her shrewd gaze taking in our family tableau with undisguised curiosity.

"And little Charlotte. The guest of honor at her own father's corporate event."

"Ms. Blake-Turner," I corrected gently, the hyphenation still new enough to require occasional reinforcement.

The decision to combine our names had surprised many, Lucas included—a choice that honored both my hard-won independence and our shared commitment.

"Of course," Eleanor conceded with a nod that contained more approval than apology.

"Old habits."

She turned to Lucas, her professional demeanor returning. "The Japanese investors are asking for you. Something about the new development in Osaka."

Lucas nodded but made no immediate move to leave. Instead, his gaze returned to Charlotte, who had nestled against his shoulder with complete trust, eyes growing heavy despite the party's ambient noise.

"Tomorrow morning," he said, his tone making it clear this wasn't negotiable.

"Whatever this is about can wait until Charlotte isn't in my arms and my family isn't celebrating."

Eleanor's eyebrows rose slightly, but she nodded. "Ten o'clock in your office?"

"Fine. But right now, family first."

She retreated, leaving us in our private bubble amid the corporate gathering.

"Family first?" I echoed once she'd gone, genuine surprise coloring my tone. "From the man who once scheduled board meetings on Christmas Eve?"

"People change," he said, his free hand finding mine, fingers interlacing with comfortable familiarity.

"Priorities clarify. Especially when the stakes increase.

" His gaze dropped to Charlotte, now fully asleep against his shoulder, trustingly vulnerable in a way that still made my heart ache with tenderness.

"Is that why you declined the Tokyo expansion?

Because of us?" The question had been forming since I'd overheard Miles discussing the abandoned project with Reynolds earlier in the evening—a massive development that would have required Lucas's presence in Japan for weeks at a time over the course of many years.

His expression revealed nothing, that perfect control still very much a part of him despite the changes fatherhood had wrought.

"The risk-to-reward ratio wasn't favorable."

"Lucas." I used the tone that had evolved between us—the one that cut through strategic deflection to demand emotional honesty. "The truth."

A slight smile touched his lips, acknowledgment of my ability to see through his careful framing.

"The opportunity cost was too high," he admitted.

"Ten years ago, even two years ago, I would have pursued it without hesitation. The potential returns were... significant."

"But?"

"But now I measure returns differently." His eyes met mine, the raw honesty in them still a rare gift I never took for granted.

"No expansion, no development, no deal is worth the cost of missing Charlotte's first steps. Or her first words. Or the moments between that matter just as much."

The simple declaration—delivered without grand gestures or flowery sentiment—was pure Lucas.

The same strategic calculation he applied to business decisions now extended to family life, with different variables but the same underlying precision.

"You've gone soft, Turner," Miles observed, approaching with a plate of hors d'oeuvres. His tone held amusement rather than criticism, the complicated relationship between father and son having evolved into something closer to mutual respect over the past year.

"The Lucas Turner I grew up with wouldn't have let a sleeping baby interfere with a hundred-million-dollar conversation."

"The Lucas Turner you came to know over the last few years made mistakes I don't intend to repeat," Lucas replied, his voice containing no defensiveness, only certainty.

"Some lessons come too late to benefit the first child. But not the second."

Miles studied his father, something complex passing across his features—perhaps acknowledgment of the complicated history between them, of the growth that had come too late for his own childhood but was transforming his sister's.

"She's lucky," he said finally, genuine warmth in his voice as he gently touched Charlotte's back.

"To have you both."

"We're the lucky ones," I corrected, the words emerging with absolute conviction. "Every day."

"Every moment," Lucas added, our private promise now casually revealed in public, though its significance remained known only to us.

Miles looked between us, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "You two and your secret language. The executive team has a betting pool on what that means, you know."

"Let them wonder," Lucas said, the slight curl of his mouth conveying both amusement and dismissal. "Some things aren't meant for public consumption."

As the party continued around us, business associates and board members mingled, networked, and strategized, while we remained in our own universe.

Charlotte was sleeping peacefully against Lucas's shoulder.

My hand in his.

The three of us connected by bonds far stronger than legal documents or shared DNA.

"We should put her down properly," I suggested after Charlotte had been asleep for nearly thirty minutes.

"The nursery you had built here is going to waste."

Lucas nodded, and we moved away from the gathering toward the private elevator that would take us to the floor below, where a fully equipped nursery waited—another example of his meticulous planning, his determination to create spaces where our daughter could be near both her parents, even during corporate functions.

As the elevator doors closed behind us, sealing out the noise and demands of the business world, Lucas's expression shifted.

The public mask of Lucas Turner, CEO, gave way to the private vulnerability of Lucas. Father. Husband. Partner.

"Do you ever regret it?" he asked, the question emerging without preamble. "The choice to build this life with me? To merge your world with mine despite all the complications?"

The question—so contrary to his usual certainty—caught me off guard. "Where is this coming from?"

"Watching you tonight. How naturally you navigate between professional success and motherhood. How completely you've integrated these different aspects of yourself."

His eyes held mine, rare vulnerability evident in their depths. "I wonder sometimes if you might have had an easier path with someone... less complicated."

The insecurity behind the question—so unexpected from a man who projected nothing but confidence to the world—made my heart constrict with tenderness.

This was the Lucas only I knew.

The man who questioned himself in quiet moments, who feared inadequacy despite his extraordinary success, who loved our daughter and me with an intensity that sometimes overwhelmed even his legendary control.

"Easier isn't better," I said simply, reaching up to touch his face. "I could have chosen simple. Safe. Predictable. But I chose you. Complicated, challenging, and transformative, you. And I've never regretted it for a single second."

The elevator doors opened to reveal the nursery—a space that reflected both our personalities in its design.

The organizational precision Lucas valued combined with the warmth and creativity I'd brought to his life.

In the center, above Charlotte's crib, hung the framed mural he'd painted himself—continents and landmarks and the family tree that now held our daughter's name on its newest branch.