CHAPTER 258: CHAPTER 258 ASHTON: SILENCE FROM PARIS

‘Penny for your thoughts.’

I turned from the floor-to-ceiling window. ‘Nothing. Just thinking about work.’

Lea didn’t buy it. ‘Work doesn’t make you look like that.’

‘Not my work. Mira’s.’

I glanced at the phone clenched in my hand. Mira had just texted to say she was extending her stay in Paris. She didn’t say how long. Just that work was piling up, they were short-staffed, and she needed to pull her weight. As if to prove the point, when I called, she barely got two sentences out before cutting the call.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling there was something she wasn’t saying.

It wasn’t what she said—it was how. Something in her tone. A kind of evasiveness.

‘Ah, yes, the famous jewellery designer.’ Lea tilted her chin towards the safe in the corner of the office. ‘May I?’

I keyed in the code and unlocked it.

She removed the top box, opened a velvet case, and lifted out a necklace. ‘What’s this one called again?’

‘Veyra.’

‘Pretty name. Eliza Black wore it, didn’t she? I remember the red carpet photos.’ She put the necklace away. ‘Wish I’d met your wife.’

We’d left Paris before dawn. Mira was still asleep then.

‘You will. At the wedding,’ I said. Though, with each day that passed, and now with this delay, I was starting to doubt whether there’d be one in June. Or at all.

‘Not before that?’ Lea asked. ‘I was hoping to order something custom. I saw her portfolio online. Exactly my taste.’

‘I’ll let you know,’ I said. ‘How’s the case going?’

Lea dropped into the chair in front of my desk and rubbed between her brows. ‘My lawyer just filed the divorce petition. We’re waiting on Pierre’s response. But knowing him, he’ll drag it out for years.’ She waved her phone. ‘I changed my number. He’ll go ballistic once he gets served.’

‘He can’t touch you here in Skyline.’ This city was mine. ‘In the meantime, you could start scoping out a Titanova office here.’

‘Here?’ She sat up, surprised. ‘I thought you didn’t want us anywhere near your clean slate.’

‘I never said that.’ I just didn’t want the wreckage of my past spilling into my present. But Titanova was legit now—on paper, anyway. ‘You’d still be CEO.’

‘And you’d still be the puppetmaster.’ She shrugged. ‘Fine by me. But I’ll need time. And bodies. Kylian’s stuck in Belgrade, Rusty’s off chasing some woman in Medellín, and Simon’s holding the fort in Eindhoven. I’ll need someone to show me the ropes here. Someone who knows the players. I don’t want to trip over anyone’s turf.’

‘LGH gets invited to half the business events in the city.’ I rang Dominic and asked him to send over the latest calendar. ‘There’s a chamber of commerce dinner coming up. I’ll get you in.’

‘You coming too?’ Lea’s mind was already turning gears.

When it wasn’t about her husband, she moved fast.

‘I’ll think about it.’ I was half-tempted to fly to Paris that afternoon, just to see for myself what Mira was up to.

If I’d known she was staying longer, I’d have insisted she take an assistant, never mind her protests. Right now, there was no one near her who could give me any insight.

Well, there was Fabrizio. But I’d rather chew glass than ask him for an update on my wife.

I’d thought about tapping my contacts in Paris, maybe asking someone to discreetly check in, but that would only make her dig her heels in once she found out.

And yes, I knew she’d been pulling away lately. Blaming it on work.

Maybe it was just pre-wedding nerves. Or maybe it was something more. I didn’t want to have to drag it out of her.

I was waiting for her to come to me.

Maybe I’d been pushing too hard—asking her to be part of the planning, chasing down guest lists, honeymoon destinations. I’d pulled back. Given her space. Let the silence breathe.

Maybe she’d realise the only reason I cared about the details was because this was OUR wedding. The only one I ever planned on having.

‘There it is again.’

‘What?’

Lea pointed at me. ‘That look. All faraway and scowly. Like something’s gnawing at you and you can’t decide what to do about it.’

I sat down and turned to my computer. ‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’

‘Nope. I’m on holiday.’

I slid a stack of documents her way. ‘Then sort these. Prioritise. Flag anything urgent. You know the drill.’

‘I’m not your PA,’ Lea muttered. ‘Not anymore.’

‘Then either work or piss off.’

‘Aye aye, boss.’ She grumbled, ‘Kylian says you’ve changed. He should see this—same old slavemaster.’

I gave her a look.

She mimed zipping her lips. ‘Not a peep, promise.’

A knock on the door. Dominic popped his head in, pausing when he saw I had company. ‘I can come back.’

‘What is it?’ I asked.

He stepped in, tablet in hand. ‘You asked me to flag anything related to Mrs Laurent. Well...’

‘Go on.’

‘Franklin Vance is dead. He committed suicide in prison.’