Todos os capítulos de Too late, dear husband; Mrs Grant is done: Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

MIREYA SARAI MOREAU No footsteps came in the night.I knew, because I listened for them until nearly dawn, and because I was annoyed with myself for listening.By the time the sky outside my window faded from black to gray, I had given up on sleep and dressed in my sharpest suit, spreading my notes across the little desk. Harrison. The agreement. Every figure I could possibly be asked about.I was on my third read-through when a knock sounded at the door. Firm, unhurried.I opened it.Nikolai stood in the hallway in a charcoal suit, his tie perfectly knotted, his hair still faintly damp. He looked as though he had slept eight hours on a cloud. It was deeply unfair.“Good morning.”“Morning.”“I’ve arranged breakfast with August. He wants to see us before the day begins.”I stared at him. “You’ve arranged breakfast.”“Yes.”“Without asking me.”He paused, the first flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “I assumed you’d be available.”“You assumed wrong.” I gestured at my suit, my

MIREYA SARAI MOREAUI found him in the study, standing at the window with his back to the room.The first gray light of morning crept across the garden and threw his shadow long over the carpet. He didn’t turn when I came in. He only said, “I’m aware.”“Aware of what?”“That you’re here to talk.”I stepped inside and closed the door softly behind me. Upstairs, Cyril was still asleep, her small hand curled in the blanket I had tucked around her the night before. I had checked on her three times before dawn.I lowered my voice. “I shouldn’t have challenged you in front of her. That was wrong.”Nikolai turned. His jaw was tight, his hands clasped behind his back like a man holding himself together by sheer discipline.“You weren’t wrong about everything.”I blinked.“The homeschooling.” His gaze flicked to his daughter, then back to me. “I’ve been thinking about it all night. I kept her close because I thought it would keep her safe. Perhaps I’ve been too protective.”“Perhaps?”“Mireya.

MIREYA SARAI MOREAU Cyril wouldn’t let go of my leg.She had wrapped both arms around my knee at the foot of the stairs, her forehead pressed into my skirt, and she held on with the stubborn silence of a child who had decided that if she didn’t speak, no one could make her move.My suitcase stood forgotten beside me. I crouched down, and she lifted her face. Her lashes were wet.“Sweetheart, I have to go. But it’s only three days.”She shook her head, once, hard. “Stay.”My chest cracked wide open.Nikolai knelt on her other side, his suit crumpling against the marble. He didn’t try to pry her loose. He simply put one big hand on her back and let it rest there, steady and warm.“We’ll be back before you notice we’re gone,” he said quietly. “Your grandmother will be here.”Cyril looked at him. Then at me. Then back at him, very slowly, weighing him.“Promise?”“Promise,” I whispered, and held out my little finger.She studied it. Then she hooked her own tiny finger around mine, so tig

MIREYA MOREAUI dressed for a business meeting.Emerald silk, high neck, long sleeves, a pencil skirt that stopped just below the knee. Armor, I’d thought, as I fastened my earrings in the hotel mirror. Something sleek and untouchable for a room full of men who looked through me.Nikolai wore black. His eyes traveled over me once as I stepped into the hall, slow and unreadable, and he said only, “That will do.”The second villa sat deeper in the hills, quieter than the first. No gates, no armed men posted along the drive, only a pair of lanterns and a door that opened before we could knock. Everything about it said discretion. Everything about it said serious.Luca met us in the entrance hall in a dark jacket, a smile ready on his face.“Mr. Moreau. Mrs. Moreau.” His gaze lingered on my hand a moment too long, and Nikolai’s fingers settled at my waist. “My uncle is waiting.”He led us along a dim corridor lined with oil paintings, the air thick with incense and something warmer undern

MIREYA SARAI MOREAUI pulled him closer, and Nikolai stopped being careful.He kissed me like he’d been holding his breath for months. My fingers left his tie and found the back of his neck, and the low sound he made against my mouth went straight through me.“Say it again,” he muttered.“Say what?”“That you don’t want me to stop.”“You’ve asked me three times.” I tugged at his collar. “Are you going deaf, or just stalling?”“Checking.” His lips brushed the corner of my mouth. “Last week you told the entire board I was an arrogant dictator.”“You were an arrogant dictator.”“And tonight?”“Tonight you’re an arrogant dictator I want to kiss.”He laughed, a rough, startled sound, and I felt it against my ribs. My hands went for his shirt buttons. He caught my wrist.“Slow down.”“No.”“Mireya.” His mouth moved to the spot below my ear, and my knees stopped cooperating. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”“You’re terrible at it.”“I’m aware.”His fingers found the tab of my zipper and still