CHAPTER 21 —THE 3PM MEETING

Atelier S had never felt so small.

Aria stood by the window of her office, trying to breathe. The Paris collection hung behind her, untouched. Black dresses. Perfect seams. A perfect empire she had built alone.

Or almost alone.

Rhys's hand was on her waist. Warm. Familiar.

"You don't have to be nervous, love," he whispered behind her. "He's just an investor."

She wasn't nervous about an investor. She was nervous about grey eyes.

The door opened without a knock.

Lorenzo Blackwood didn't need to knock. He owned half the buildings on this street.

He walked in wearing a charcoal suit, no tie. His hair was a little damp from the rain outside. His eyes found hers instantly.

Then dropped to Rhys's hand on her waist.

Vanessa hovered behind him. "Mr. Blackwood is here for the three

"I see him," Aria said quietly. "It's okay, Vanessa. Close the door."

Vanessa closed it.

Silence.

Lorenzo looked exactly the same as he did four years ago in Milan. And completely different.

Rhys was the first to move. He smiled, that easy, confident smile that had gotten Aria through Leo's fevers and late night fittings.

"You must be Blackwood. I'm Rhys Sinclair."

He extended a hand. Lorenzo didn't take it.

Rhys's smile tightened. He pulled his hand back and placed it more firmly on Aria's waist, pulling her into his side.

"I'm Aria's partner. We help each other. With the brand. With Leo."

The name landed.

Leo.

Lorenzo's jaw clenched so hard Aria saw the muscle jump.

"Leo," he repeated. His voice was low. "Your son."

"Our son," Rhys corrected smoothly. "I raised him. Four years. Every cold, every nightmare. I was there."

_Four years._ At least he got the number right this time.

Aria finally found her voice. "Rhys, stop."

But Rhys didn't stop. This was his moment. He had waited four years for another man to not show up and claim her. He wasn't going to lose her now to a ghost from Milan.

He turned Aria to face him. His hands cupped her face, soft.

"Don't be scared," he whispered to her, loud enough for Lorenzo to hear every word. "I told you I would tell him."

Aria's eyes widened. "Rhys, what are you—"

"I love you, Aria. I have loved you since you walked into my ER with a two-month bump and no one else to call."

He looked at Lorenzo over her head, a clear challenge.

"I was there when you bled. I was there when you cried. I can be his father. I _am_ his father in every way that matters."

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. A performance. His mouth pressed against hers, his fingers tangling in her hair, smudging the red lipstick she had put on for this meeting. For Lorenzo.

Aria made a small sound against his lips — half gasp, half protest. Her hands came up to his chest. She didn't know if she was pushing him away or holding on for balance.

She could feel Lorenzo watching.

She had to open her eyes.

Over Rhys's shoulder, Lorenzo stood perfectly still. His hands were in his pockets, but his shoulders were rigid. His grey eyes, that impossible grey, were not angry.

They were devastated.

He watched the man he thought was a stranger kiss the woman he had searched for for two years. He watched her lipstick smear. He watched her not immediately push him away.

And Aria felt something crack inside her chest.

Rhys finally pulled back, breathing hard. He pressed his forehead to hers.

"Say yes," he whispered. "Let me be his Dad for real."

Aria's lips trembled. "Rhys... he calls you Uncle Rhys."

"Not for long," Rhys said, smiling at her, then turning to Lorenzo. "Sorry. Four years with this woman, you learn not to wait."

Lorenzo finally moved.

He took one step forward. Then another. Slow.

"Uncle Rhys," he said quietly, tasting the words.

Rhys stiffened. "Yeah. That's what Leo calls me. He loves me."

"I know," Lorenzo said.

He walked past Rhys as if he wasn't there. He stopped right in front of Aria. So close she could smell his rain and cologne. The same cologne from Milan.

He reached out, his thumb — his thumb gently wiped the smudged lipstick from the corner of her mouth.

Aria flinched, but didn't move away.

"May 4th," Lorenzo whispered, so only she could hear it. "Four years old. Preschool."

His thumb lingered.

He knows, Aria thought, panic rising. He calculated it.

"Is he mine, Aria?" he asked. His voice broke on the last word. All the billionaire cold was gone. It was just a man asking. "Please. Just tell me the truth this time. Is Leo my son?"

Behind them, the office phone rang, sharp and loud.

Vanessa's voice on speaker, panicked: "Aria? I'm so sorry to interrupt — it's Leo's preschool on line two. He's crying. He's asking for car man. He won't stop asking for car man —"

Lorenzo's hand dropped from Aria's face.

Car man.

The two red cars from this morning. Fast car and strong car.

The boy who had looked at him like he was a superhero.

Lorenzo reached across her desk and hit the speaker button himself.

"Give him to me," he said.

His voice was raw.

Aria stared at him, tears finally spilling.

Rhys stared at the phone, his face pale.

On the other end, a small, hiccuping voice.

"Car man? Is that you? You said you would come back!"