Tuesday morning brought the formal contract signing, scheduled for eleven o'clock in the large conference room with Robert Chen, the legal team, and Kieran. Victoria had reviewed the seventy-page document three times, each clause carefully constructed to protect the company while giving Kieran the creative freedom he needed.
She arrived at the conference room at ten fifty-five to find Kieran already there, wearing the same navy suit from previous meetings, studying the contract with furrowed concentration. Sophie Chen sat beside him, pointing out specific clauses and whispering explanations.
"Ms. Ashford," Kieran said when Victoria entered, his formality so perfect it almost made her laugh. After last night's texts about being unreasonable together, the professional distance felt absurd.
"Mr. Hayes. Ms. Chen." Victoria took her seat across from them, Robert settling beside her with his own copy of the contract bristling with sticky notes.
The legal team walked through each section with methodical precision. Scope of work, timeline, payment schedule, milestone deliverables, exit clauses, insurance requirements, indemnification. The language was dense and unforgiving, designed to protect Ashford & Co. from every possible contingency.
Kieran listened intently, asking intelligent questions about change order procedures and dispute resolution. Victoria found herself impressed again by how seriously he took the business side of his work. This wasn't just art to him. It was craft, profession, livelihood.
"The key provision," Robert explained when they reached page forty-seven, "is the performance milestone structure. You'll receive thirty percent upon contract signing, another thirty percent when demolition and structural work is complete, twenty percent when installation begins, and the final twenty percent upon substantial completion and our acceptance."
"And if I fail to meet benchmarks?" Kieran asked.
"We have the right to terminate with thirty days notice and hire a replacement firm to complete the work. You'd forfeit any unpaid portions and potentially be liable for cost overruns." Robert's tone was matter-of-fact. "Standard protection for a project of this scope."
Kieran nodded slowly. "That's fair. What about creative changes? If you decide halfway through that you hate the tile design?"
"That would constitute a change order, which requires mutual agreement on scope and cost." Robert flipped to another section. "We've tried to balance flexibility with accountability."
Victoria watched Kieran process the information, and saw the moment he understood the full weight of what he was signing. This contract could make his career or destroy it. If the project succeeded, he'd be positioned for major commissions. If it failed, he'd be unhirable in luxury retail, possibly sued for damages, professionally ruined.
The pressure was enormous, and she'd been so focused on her own risk that she hadn't fully considered him.
"Are you comfortable with these terms?" she asked quietly.
Kieran met her eyes across the table. "Yes. I believe in this project. I believe in what we're creating together." The emphasis on together was subtle but deliberate. "I'll deliver. You won't regret taking this chance on me."
"See that I don't," Robert said, though not unkindly.
They signed on page sixty-eight, witnessed by the legal team. Kieran's signature was surprisingly elegant, all flowing loops and confident strokes. Victoria's was precise and controlled, exactly like everything else about her.
After the legal team filed out, Robert lingered.
"Walk with me, Victoria?" he said, in a tone that made clear it wasn't really a question.
They left Kieran and Sophie reviewing their copy of the contract and headed toward Robert's office. Victoria's stomach tightened with apprehension.
"You're going to tell me this is a mistake," she said once they were alone.
"I'm going to tell you to be careful." Robert closed his door and gestured for her to sit. "The project itself is solid. Hayes is talented, his team is competent, the vision is compelling. But Victoria, the way you look at him, the way he looks at you, it's not entirely professional."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do. And I'm not here to judge. You're a grown woman, you're allowed to have a personal life. But you're also the CEO of a publicly traded company, and perception matters. If the board even suspects there's something personal between you and Hayes, they'll use it against you. Margaret is already sharpening her knives."
Victoria's hands tightened on the arms of her chair. "There's nothing inappropriate happening."
"I hope that's true. Because if there is, you need to end it immediately or recuse yourself from project oversight. You can't be both his client and his," Robert paused delicately, "anything else. The conflict of interest is untenable."
"Noted."
"I'm serious, Victoria. I've watched you build this company against impossible odds. Don't let it all come crashing down because you're lonely." His voice softened. "You deserve happiness. But timing matters. And right now, your professional position is too precarious for personal complications."
After Robert left, Victoria sat in his office feeling the weight of consequences settling over her like a shroud. He was right, of course. Everything about her relationship with Kieran was professionally dangerous. The age gap alone would be tabloid fodder. Add in the client relationship and the power dynamic, and it became a scandal waiting to detonate.
She should end it now. Text Kieran that she'd made a mistake, that they needed to maintain strict professional boundaries, that Saturday's intimacy had been an aberration that wouldn't be repeated.
Her phone buzzed. Kieran: "That was intense. You okay?"
Victoria stared at the message. The responsible thing would be to not respond, to let silence create the distance she should be maintaining.
She typed: "Fine. Contracts are always stressful."
"Still on for tonight? I have something I want to show you."
This was her chance. She could say no, could establish the boundaries Robert was warning her about, could protect herself and her career and everything she'd built.
"Eight o'clock," she typed instead. "I'll bring wine."
The rest of Tuesday passed in a blur of meetings and emails and strategic avoidance of her own better judgment. Victoria moved through her day on autopilot, approving budgets and reviewing reports while her mind fixated on the evening ahead.
At seven forty-five, she left the office and drove to Thames Street. The November evening was cold and dark, the tourist season over, the historic district quiet. She parked two blocks from the construction site and walked, carrying a bottle of expensive Burgundy from Edmund's collection that she'd never opened because drinking alone felt too much like admitting defeat.
The site was dark except for light spilling from the third floor windows. Victoria climbed the temporary stairs carefully in her heels, her heart pounding with a combination of anticipation and dread.
She found Kieran on the third floor, surrounded by what looked like a hundred candles, their light reflecting off the tile samples he'd arranged across the floor in an elaborate pattern.
"What is this?" Victoria asked, breathless from the stairs and the sight of him.
"A preview." Kieran stood from where he'd been adjusting candles and crossed to her. "I wanted you to see how the tiles look in evening light. Not practical overhead lighting, but the kind of warm, intimate light you'd get from candles or low lamps."
The effect was stunning. The tiles seemed to glow from within, the cream and gold pattern creating shadows and depth that transformed the space. It felt alive, breathing, exactly the kind of emotional resonance Kieran had promised.
"It's beautiful," Victoria said, meaning it.
"It's right." Kieran took the wine from her hands and set it aside unopened. "I spent all day second-guessing the design after signing that contract. All those clauses about failure and termination and liability. But seeing this, I know it's right. This is what space needs to be."
Victoria walked among the candles, careful not to disturb his arrangement, running her fingers over the tiles. "You're going to create something extraordinary."
"We're going to create something extraordinary." He came up behind her, close enough that she could feel his warmth but not quite touching. "This is a collaboration, Victoria. Your vision is as much a part of this as mine."
She turned to face him, and the candlelight made his features softer, younger, heartbreakingly earnest. "Robert warned me today. About us. He knows something is happening, or suspects it. He said I need to either end it or recuse myself from the project."
Kieran's expression shuttered. "And which are you choosing?"
"I don't know. The smart choice is to end it. The responsible choice. The choice that protects everything I've built." Victoria's voice cracked slightly. "But I don't want to. For the first time in twenty years, I'm doing something just because I want it, and I don't want to stop."
"Then don't." Kieran cupped her face in his hands, his calloused palms rough against her skin. "We'll be careful. We'll be discreet. But Victoria, I can't walk away from this. From you. Not now that I know what this feels like."
"What does it feel like?"
"Like coming alive. Like every color is brighter and every sensation is sharper and for the first time in my life, I understand what all the love songs are about." His thumb traced her cheekbone. "I'm falling for you. Fast and hard and probably stupidly. But I can't help it."
Victoria felt tears slip down her cheeks. When was the last time someone had said something like that to her? When was the last time she'd let herself feel this vulnerable?
"I'm terrified," she whispered.
"Me too. Let's be terrified together."
He kissed her then, soft and seeking, and Victoria kissed him back with all the longing she'd been suppressing since Saturday. They sank to the floor among the candles and tile samples, careful not to disturb his arrangement, and made love with the desperate tenderness of people who knew they were doing something dangerous and couldn't bring themselves to care.
Afterward, they lay tangled together on the dusty floor, Victoria's head on Kieran's chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
"We can't keep doing this," she said without conviction.
"Probably not." His hand stroked through her hair, which had long since escaped its careful chignon. "But we will anyway."
"This is going to end badly."
"Maybe. Or maybe it's going to end with you finally letting yourself be happy." Kieran pressed a kiss to her temple. "I know the timing is terrible. I know the optics are bad. I know I'm too young and you're too important and there are a hundred rational reasons why this is a mistake. But Victoria, what if it's not? What if this is actually the first real thing you've let yourself have in years?"
Victoria couldn't argue with that. She stayed in his arms for another hour, talking about everything and nothing, before reluctantly acknowledging that she needed to leave before anyone noticed her car parked nearby for too long.
"When can I see you again?" Kieran asked as she dressed, his eyes tracking her movements with undisguised appreciation.
"I don't know. We need to be careful. Space out our interactions." Victoria attempted to restore her hair to professional order and failed completely. "This is exactly what Robert warned me about."
"So we'll be more careful. Vary our locations. Use separate entrances. Whatever it takes." He stood and pulled her close one more time. "I'm not giving this up without a fight."
"You might have to eventually."
"Then eventually. But not today."
Victoria drove home with her hair down and her lipstick smudged and her body still humming with the memory of his touch. This was insane. She was the CEO of a billion-dollar company, having an affair with her twenty-eight-year-old contractor in an empty construction site, risking everything she'd spent two decades building for a few hours of feeling alive.
And she couldn't bring herself to regret it.
At home, she showered and changed into pajamas and poured herself a glass of wine she actually drank. Then she did something she hadn't done since Edmund died: she called her son.
Harrison answered on the fourth ring, sounding sleepy. "Mom? It's like four in the morning here."
"I'm sorry. I can call back."
"No, it's fine. I'm awake now." She heard rustling as he sat up. "What's wrong? You never call."
"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to hear your voice." Victoria settled onto her sofa, looking out at the dark ocean. "How's Thailand?"
"Beautiful. Chaotic. I'm staying in a monastery learning about Buddhism and meditation. It's pretty incredible actually." He paused. "Are you okay? You sound different."
"Different how?"
"I don't know. Less corporate. More human." Harrison's voice held cautious curiosity. "Did something happen?"
Victoria considered lying, maintaining the careful distance she'd always kept with her son. But Kieran's words echoed in her mind about being real with Harrison, about letting him see her as a person instead of just a CEO.
"I met someone," she heard herself say. "It's new and complicated and probably a terrible idea. But I wanted you to know."
Silence on the line. Then: "Good. That's good, Mom. You've been alone too long."
"You're not upset?"
"Why would I be upset? Dad's been gone for four years. You're allowed to move on." Harrison's voice was gentle. "I've been worried about you actually. You've seemed so empty since he died. Like you were just going through the motions."
Victoria felt tears prick her eyes. "I have been. Going through the motions. Being what everyone needed me to be. But I'm trying to be more than that now."
"Then I'm proud of you. Seriously." Harrison paused. "Can I ask who it is?"
"Not yet. It's too new, too fragile. But when I'm ready, you'll be the first to know."
They talked for another twenty minutes, really talking, about Harrison's travels and his search for meaning and his own struggles with living up to the Ashford name. It was the most honest conversation they'd had in years, maybe ever.
After they hung up, Victoria sat in the dark living room feeling the walls she'd built around herself beginning to crack. Harrison's approval of her moving on. Kieran's belief in her capacity for happiness. Even Geoffrey's warning had contained an implicit permission to choose herself for once.
Maybe everyone except Victoria had known what she needed all along.
Her phone buzzed one more time. Kieran: "Thank you for tonight. For trusting me. For being brave. Sleep well."
Victoria typed back: "Thank you for seeing me. For all of me. Not just the performance."
"That's the only part I'm interested in. The real you."
Victoria fell asleep on the sofa, her phone still in her hand, and dreamed of spaces filled with candlelight and possibility.