The air outside Cater Innovations felt colder than when I entered, though the sky remained that flat, unforgiving blue typical of midmorning in Velmoré. I adjusted my cufflinks as I walked down the granite steps, her words still echoing in my head.
So I'm expected to smile and charm her while pretending I want to be part of this circus?
Celine had always been direct. Sharp-edged. Fire wrapped in silk. I respected it, even when it was aimed squarely at me.
Oliver opened the back door of the car before I reached the curb, his timing as precise as always. "Back to Aldridge Tower, sir?"
"Yes," I replied, sliding into the black leather interior. The scent of fresh polish and faint espresso lingered—he must've had the car detailed again. Oliver was thorough like that.
As the door shut and the car pulled into traffic, I leaned my head back against the seat and stared at the passing skyline. Glass. Steel. History. All the things our families had bled for.
I should have called.
I knew that. I told myself that a hundred times on the ride over. A call would have been cleaner, less confrontational. More appropriate for a merger partner—and a reluctant fiancée.
But something about showing up felt necessary.
Maybe it was the way her father had delivered the news in that study. Like a verdict. Maybe it was the look on Celine's face then—betrayed, cornered, furious. And maybe, just maybe, it was because I wanted to see her.
To prove to myself that this arrangement wouldn't rattle me the way it clearly rattled her.
But it had.
"Did she respond well to the heads-up about Mrs. Aldridge?" Oliver asked from the front, glancing up at me in the rearview.
I gave a low laugh. "Define 'well.'"
Oliver smirked and returned his eyes to the road.
"She's furious, of course," I added after a moment. "But I told her the truth. My mother might call. She deserves a warning."
"Your mother has been asking about her constantly."
"I know."
You didn't even warn her about the number, Celine had said.
I hadn't. Because refusing my mother anything was nearly impossible.
She'd raised me alone, after all.
But before that... there had been my father.
They had loved each other deeply—passionately, loyally, like something out of an old film. He wasn't just her husband. He was her best friend, her partner in all things. Even in their disagreements, there was warmth. I remember them dancing in the kitchen on rainy Sundays, laughing during family board games, sharing long glances across crowded rooms.
When he passed, something in her broke.
She smiled less. Her laughter thinned out. The light she carried flickered, and though she held strong for me and Grandfather Charles, I saw her mourning in the quiet spaces between days.
It changed me. Watching her grief, watching her ache for someone who would never return.
Since then, I made a silent promise—I would never love like that.
Not because I couldn't, but because I wouldn't survive the loss. If someone ever got under my skin that deeply, into my bloodstream the way my father had for my mother—I wouldn't know how to let go.
So I stayed careful. Controlled. I let women into my arms, not into my heart.
Celine Cater? She was fire and ice, ambition and raw emotion, but if I let myself feel too much... she could undo everything I'd built.
I pulled out my phone and stared at the lock screen. My mother's smiling face from her birthday last year filled it. She had tears in her eyes—happy ones—when I gave her a framed photo of the three of us from one of our last family trips. That woman had endured so much, and still, she loved like her heart had never been broken.
How could I tell her no when she wanted something as simple as meeting her future daughter-in-law?
Even if that daughter-in-law despised me.
She'd probably already picked out a restaurant. Maybe a boutique. She'd want to give Celine the same warmth she always gave me, even if it wasn't returned.
She wanted to love someone on my behalf.
And she wanted grandchildren. Not for legacy, not for show, but because she missed the sound of small feet in the house. Because she still set an extra place at dinner, just in case I dropped by unexpectedly. Because she hoped this arrangement might, somehow, become something real.
I stared out the window at Velmoré's bustling center as we passed it, every street corner alive with ambition. It had always been that way. From the time I was a boy in prep school uniforms to now, when my signature could tip a market. This city had never made room for softness.
Except in my mother.
I ran a hand through my hair and closed my eyes for a second.
I hadn't meant to care what Celine thought.
But the flash of betrayal in her eyes stung more than I wanted to admit. I told myself it didn't matter—this was business. We were business. A merger with a marriage clause.
Yet she looked at me like I was part of some betrayal.
And maybe I was.
We turned onto Aldridge Avenue, our private lane that led to the towering glass headquarters of Aldridge Global. From here, I could see the rooftop garden I'd commissioned, a rare touch of nature above the noise.
"Shall I notify the board you're in?" Oliver asked.
"No, I'm just going to the top floor. I need a few hours alone."
He nodded.
When the car stopped, I stepped out, straightening my tie. A doorman greeted me with a quiet, "Good morning, Mr. Aldridge," and I returned it with a nod.
The marble lobby of Aldridge Tower gleamed like always—perfect, sterile, powerful.
I didn't go to my usual executive suite.
Instead, I took the elevator to the top. The private floor. My floor. The one few people entered unless invited.
Inside, I loosened my tie and crossed to the wall of windows.
From here, I could see the city. And just barely, the Cater building.
I placed my hand on the cool glass and exhaled.
Whatever this marriage became, I had a role to play. For my company. For my mother.
And maybe, in time, for something more.
But first, I had to survive Celine Cater's fire.
And try not to enjoy it too much.