Page 29 of The Billionaire’s Betrayal (Billionaires of Paris #2)

TRISTAN

Eva was sad and angry, and she had every reason to be.

I had messed up, and not just a little. Each attempt at reconciliation crashed against the consequences of my own mistakes.

The subsidiary, the necklace, Project Hope.

.. every decision I had made in Audrey's favor now came back as evidence of my weakness.

I had given her the Australian subsidiary because I couldn't resist her, because her presence alone was enough to cloud my judgment.

In New York, I had been blind and pathetic.

Completely fascinated by Audrey, I hadn't thought about the consequences of my actions.

That necklace... it wasn't just an inappropriate gift, it was already a betrayal.

I wanted to see her smile, to dazzle her, like a teenager trying to impress. The very thought now made me sick.

And Project Hope... Eva's most personal project, the one that made her eyes light up when she talked about it—I had authorized Audrey to interfere with it as if it were just a simple administrative task.

I had dismissed Eva's aversion to my assistant with a wave of my hand, turning what was her source of joy into a hostile environment.

Whether Audrey wanted to do well or not didn't matter: I had no right to do what I did.

I was accumulating betrayals, and I no longer knew how to be forgiven. I would like to go back in time, erase my mistakes, start all over, but it was impossible.

Eva wasn't just angry—she was disappointed, and that was much worse. The disappointment I saw in her eyes was like a mirror reflecting the image of my own cowardice. I hadn't lived up to her love or her trust, preferring to be guided by a stupid attraction rather than protecting what we had built.

Her silences were killing me slowly.

For three days, she had been acting as if I didn't exist, as if I had become a ghost in our own home. Every averted look, every move to escape my touch was a deserved punishment that burned my skin.

The guest room had become her refuge, further widening the gap between us. Tonight, the sound of that door closing echoed like a verdict, leaving me alone with my regrets. I constantly wondered if she could ever forgive me, or if our story was already fading away in an icy silence.

At the office, she remained impeccably professional, almost frighteningly so. No one could have guessed our situation. Her mask was perfect, but I, who knew her by heart, saw the pain behind every forced smile, every measured gesture.

Something had gone out in her, as if she had suddenly given up on us. That flame that characterized her, that passion that had made me fall in love with her, seemed to be dangerously flickering.

Since I had found her asleep on the couch, she seemed constantly exhausted and went to bed early after dinner.

I no longer knew if it was an excuse to avoid me or if my attitude had ended up breaking her.

She seemed to fade a little more each day, and that vision terrified me.

She, who was always so lively, so energetic, now resembled a shadow of herself, drained of all strength.

What if my mistakes, my repeated betrayals, had finally extinguished that light that made her so unique?

I then made the decision that had to be made.

Two days before Christmas, I entered Samy's office, the HR director. He showed no surprise at my impromptu visit.

"What can I do for you, Tristan?" he asked in his calm tone.

"I need to review my team organization. The current situation is creating tensions that are hampering work efficiency."

Samy nodded, inviting me to continue.

"I think we need to redefine Audrey's role. She has skills, but her current position isn't ideal. I'd like to offer her a position more in line with her abilities, perhaps on specific projects, while recruiting someone else for the assistant position."

"Do you have a specific idea for Audrey?"

"She could take charge of certain development projects, but autonomously, without being directly attached to my office. That would clarify things and avoid... misunderstandings."

Samy made no comment, but he was smart enough to read between the lines. He was one of the few at the office who knew about Eva and me.

"Is Audrey aware?" he finally asked.

"Not yet. But it will be done after the holidays. In the meantime, I need you to urgently start a new recruitment process."

"As a matter of fact, I think I've already found the ideal candidate," he said, searching through a stack of neatly organized files. "Here, look at this résumé."

I took the document he was holding out, intrigued by his confidence.

"Alexandre Durant, ten years of experience as an executive assistant, notably at EIR Corp in Berlin, where he coordinated schedules and organized meetings for the CEO.

Before that, he was a personal assistant at the YORRAS Group in London.

He has a Master's degree in business management and speaks fluent English, German, and Spanish. "

I quickly scanned the résumé, impressed by the solidity of his background.

"How come you already have this résumé?"

Samy gave a small smile.

"Eva asked me to keep looking even after Audrey was hired. She thought it would be good to have a backup solution in case Audrey didn't work out."

I couldn't blame her; it would be hypocritical of me.

"Set up an appointment with him and block my schedule," I approved.

"Will do."

"Thank you, Samy."

I left the office, thoughtful. It might not be the perfect solution, but it was a first step. By clearly redefining roles, I hoped to ease tensions with Eva while giving Audrey a chance to prove her worth, elsewhere, in a more appropriate setting.

That evening, I came home earlier than usual, my heart beating like before a first date. Eva was still at her workout session, leaving me just enough time to transform our home into a warm cocoon.

The florist quickly delivered the tree, a magnificent 6-foot Nordmann fir, whose sturdy branches seemed to call for the decorations I had meticulously chosen.

Each string of lights, each shimmering ornament, carried the hope of rekindling joy in Eva's eyes.

As I decorated, the enchanting scent of the tree filled the room, awakening memories of our past Christmases.

Those moments when Eva radiated, kneeling before the tree, focused on perfecting every detail.

But this year, she hadn't done anything. And I feared I was the reason.

To perfect the surprise, I had ordered from her favorite caterer: the duck breasts she loved, accompanied by a tender vegetable gratin and, to finish, a raspberry cake. I set the table with meticulous care, adding candles, hoping to recreate that magic we had lost.

When Eva opened the door, the surprise immobilized her. Her hand remained frozen on the handle, her eyes widened as they slowly scanned the room, capturing every detail as if she doubted the reality of what she was seeing. Her breath remained suspended, and I saw her eyes mist over with tears.

I approached gently, taking care not to break this fragile moment. I took her gym bag, gently set it down, and helped her remove her coat, my gestures full of tenderness. Without a word, I led her to the couch and had her sit on my lap. She let me, as if she were too overwhelmed to resist.

"Why?" she finally whispered, her voice broken with emotion.

I gazed into her eyes, searching for the right words.

"For you," I said simply. "To show you how important you are. To make amends."

She looked away for a moment, her face unreadable, but I continued:

"Eva... I've made a decision. Audrey will be assigned to other projects in January."

I felt her body stiffen in my arms, as if she needed a moment to absorb the implications of my words.

Then, slowly, she turned her face to me, her eyes shining with an emotion I dared not name.

In a sudden and moving gesture, she embraced me, her arms closing around me with a strength and intensity that made my chest explode with relief.

Then I felt her shaking in my embrace. She was crying, because of me. They were tears of relief though, and I held her close.

"Forgive me, my love," I said in a pleading tone. "You mean so much to me!"

The dinner that followed was a moment out of time.

We talked about our days, and Eva told me about her boxing class, her coach who wanted to register her for the next championship.

She laughed as she told the anecdote, as if the idea was absurd, but I knew her coach was serious. Eva was a fighter; she had always been.

We had decided to close the company on December 24th so our employees could prepare for their festivities. A simple gesture, but one that had been enough to light up their faces.

Eva seemed more serene than usual, even if her paleness and dark circles betrayed her fatigue. When I expressed my concern, she gently placed her hand on mine, a reassuring smile on her lips.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Let's just enjoy this day, okay?"

At noon, we prepared lunch. Because I had almost lost Eva, this ordinary moment became precious. Peeling vegetables, chopping onions... Once mundane gestures, they suddenly seemed to have a different value. I savored every second.

But the afternoon took a different turn. A migraine forced her to lie down, and I had to watch her curl up, her face tense with pain. Helpless, I slipped into the bedroom with a bottle of essential oils, ready to offer her some comfort.

"Let me try," I whispered, sitting next to her. She nodded gently, a tired smile on her lips.

As my fingers slowly massaged her temples, I felt her breath lengthen, her sighs of relief resonating like a sweet melody in the silence of the room.

These moments of intimacy, where I could finally take care of her, reminded me how much I had missed her.

Each caress was an act of love, a way to tell her without words how much she meant to me.

I stayed by her side all afternoon, attentive to the slightest movement, watching over her restless sleep like one guards a fragile treasure.

Each time she half-opened her eyelids, she found my gaze upon her, full of tenderness and concern.

As night fell, the room took on a soft dimness, enveloping our cocoon in an almost sacred tranquility.

When I slipped under the sheets beside her, I felt her body relax against mine, instinctively seeking the closeness we had missed so much. She nestled against me, and that sigh, light but laden with relief, moved me deeply.

Certainly, I would have imagined a completely different program for Christmas Eve. But there, in that silent room, lulled by her peaceful breathing, I understood that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. This Christmas might not have the grandeur of past celebrations, but it had the essential: Eva.