HONOR ME

FIFTEEN

SKYLER

The next morning, I woke earlier than usual.

Sleep had been impossible.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Louis's voice...

Then André's.

I tied my hair into a loose bun, slipped into an oversized T-shirt and shorts, and headed downstairs.

Cooking had always been my escape.

If my hands were busy, my mind couldn't wander too far.

By the time André came downstairs, I had already made breakfast.

Pancakes.

Scrambled eggs.

Bacon.

Fresh orange juice.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the table before looking at me.

"Good morning, wife."

I glanced up briefly.

"Morning."

He took his seat, eyeing the food.

"Should I be worried?"

I frowned.

"Why?"

"You cooked."

I rolled my eyes.

"I cook."

"You burn toast."

"I burned it once."

"Twice."

"It was an accident."

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I grabbed the spatula lying beside the stove and pointed it at him.

"Keep talking and you'll be wearing breakfast."

He lifted both hands in surrender.

"I'm just saying... I should probably call the fire department before I eat."

I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped me.

"You talk too much."

"There it is."

"What?"

"That smile."

His own widened.

"I was starting to think I'd never see it again."

The room grew quiet.

I looked down at my plate, absentmindedly pushing my eggs around with my fork.

"I'm sorry about yesterday."

His voice lost its teasing edge.

"I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"You were protecting me."

"I still went too far."

I nodded.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

"So..."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Think your boyfriend still hates me?"

The word boyfriend caught me off guard.

Louis.

My appetite disappeared.

"I don't know."

"He'll stay away."

He reached for his glass.

"I made sure of that."

I looked up.

"What does that mean?"

He shrugged.

"It means he won't be showing up here again."

There was no arrogance in his voice.

Just certainty.

I stared at him for a moment before setting my fork down.

"When this contract ends..."

His hand paused halfway to his glass.

"...and you finally get your shares..."

I swallowed.

"Do you still plan on leaving me?"

Silence.

He slowly placed the glass back on the table.

Instead of answering, he reached for another piece of bacon.

"You make surprisingly good pancakes."

I didn't smile.

"André."

"They're actually better than mine."

I held his gaze.

"Answer me."

He exhaled through his nose.

"Do we really have to talk about this over breakfast?"

"Yes."

His eyes drifted toward the window.

"We'll deal with that when the time comes."

My heart sank.

"So that's still the plan."

He didn't deny it.

He didn't confirm it either.

He simply stayed quiet.

For some reason...

That hurt more than hearing him say yes.

A strange ache settled in my chest.

Some foolish part of me had expected him to laugh...

To tell me the contract didn't matter anymore.

To tell me he wasn't going anywhere.

Instead...

There was only silence.

And that was when it hit me.

I was falling for him.

Far faster than I ever should have.

Fast enough that his answer mattered.

Fast enough that his silence hurt.

I pushed my chair back.

The scrape against the floor made him look up.

"Skyler?"

"I think..."

I struggled to find the words.

"I think I need some time."

His brows drew together.

"Time?"

I nodded slowly.

"I don't know what's happening to me anymore."

I laughed quietly, though there was nothing funny about it.

"A few weeks ago, I couldn't stand being in the same room as you."

I looked him straight in the eye.

"And now I'm disappointed because you couldn't tell me you wouldn't leave."

His expression changed.

The teasing disappeared completely.

"I don't like that."

I shook my head.

"Not because of you."

I wrapped my arms around myself.

"But because I don't know if these feelings are real... or if I'm just confusing gratitude with something more."

I drew in a slow breath.

"I need a little space to figure that out."

For the first time...

André didn't know what to say.

He stared at me as though I'd spoken a language he'd never heard before.

Finally, he pushed his chair back.

"So what exactly does that mean?"

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

He stared at me as though I'd spoken a language he'd never heard before.

Finally, he pushed his chair back.

"So what exactly does that mean?"

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

"I need some space."

"I heard that part."

He folded his arms across his chest.

"What I don't understand is whether you're asking for space..."

He paused.

"...or telling me you're leaving."

I looked down at my hands.

"I don't know."

His jaw tightened.

"Don't give me that."

"I really don't know, André."

He let out a slow breath and dragged a hand over his face.

"So after everything that happened yesterday..."

His eyes found mine again.

"...you're just going to walk away?"

"I'm not walking away."

"It sounds like it."

"I need to clear my head."

"And what happens while you're clearing it?"

His voice sharpened.

"You go back to Louis?"

"No."

The answer came so quickly that even I surprised myself.

"There is no Louis."

He studied me for a long moment.

Almost as if he was trying to decide whether to believe me.

"I told you," I said quietly.

"I'm done with him."

The muscles in his jaw relaxed, but only slightly.

"Then what is this?"

"I don't know."

I laughed bitterly.

"And that's exactly the problem."

Silence settled between us.

He looked away first.

"I have meetings today."

His tone turned businesslike.

"I'll be back this evening."

He picked up his car keys from the counter before stopping beside me.

"Don't do anything stupid."

I frowned.

"Like what?"

He looked at me for a long second.

"Don't even think about leaving."

There wasn't anger in his voice.

There was fear.

He tried to hide it behind authority.

"I mean it, Skyler."

I said nothing.

He waited.

When no response came, he let out a frustrated sigh and headed for the front door.

"I'll see you tonight."

The door shut behind him.

The house fell silent.

I remained where I was for several minutes, listening to the sound of his car disappearing down the driveway.

Only when it was completely gone did I move.

I walked upstairs.

Opened the wardrobe.

Pulled a suitcase from the top shelf.

One by one...

I folded my clothes.

The room looked emptier with every outfit I packed.

I paused beside the dresser.

My eyes landed on the bracelet André had given me.

For a brief moment, my fingers hovered over it.

Then I carefully placed it inside the suitcase.

Not because I was taking him with me.

But because I wasn't ready to leave it behind either.

I zipped the suitcase shut.

Took one last look around the room.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to no one in particular.

An hour later, I walked out of the house with nothing but my suitcase and handbag.

I didn't leave a note.

I didn't send a message.

I simply got into my car.

Started the engine.

And drove.

The city gradually disappeared behind me.

The roads became quieter.

More familiar.

Eventually, I turned onto a narrow road lined with old trees.

A small smile tugged at my lips.

"It's been a while."

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

"I'm coming home."

**ANDRÉ**

I pulled up outside Larsen Inc. and headed inside.

The receptionist greeted me with a polite smile as I crossed the lobby. I acknowledged her with a nod before making my way to the executive floor.

By the time I entered the boardroom, everyone was already seated.

"Good morning, everyone."

I took my seat.

Across the table, Father looked at me and slowly shook his head.

I almost rolled my eyes.

A habit I must've picked up from Skyler.

"Shall we proceed?"

The meeting dragged on for nearly an hour.

Financial reports.

Market forecasts.

Expansion proposals.

None of it held my attention.

All I could think about was my forty percent.

Finally, Charlie broke the monotony.

"André got married before thirty, just as the will required... correct?"

Every pair of eyes shifted toward Father.

Charlie Larsen.

Chief Operating Officer of Larsen Inc.

The only woman sitting in a room full of men.

My sister.

Though outside of family gatherings and scheduled board meetings, we barely spoke.

In this room, she wasn't my sister.

She was a businesswoman.

And one of the sharpest people I'd ever met.

"Yes," Father answered.

"Alfonso."

Charlie turned toward the company lawyer.

"Read the section concerning succession."

Alfonso adjusted his glasses, shuffled through the stack of documents before him and selected one.

"My Lord, Martin André Larsen."

My great-grandfather.

The man who built Larsen Inc. from the ground up.

"'The first son of every Larsen generation shall receive forty percent of the company's annual profit, provided he is legally married before the age of thirty.'"

Charlie lifted a hand, signaling him to stop.

"So..."

She folded her hands neatly on the table.

"André turned twenty-nine a few weeks ago."

She glanced toward Father.

"If I'm not mistaken."

I looked at Father's face.

Red.

Tense.

Exactly as I'd hoped.

"So what's the problem, Rudolph?"

Charlie asked.

"Why don't you want to give your firstborn son what he's entitled to?"

Father leaned forward.

"They don't even love each other."

His voice carried through the room.

"It's an arranged marriage."

"One that you arranged."

Charlie's tone was calm.

Sharp enough to cut glass.

A wave of murmurs spread around the table.

"Don't pretend you had nothing to do with it."

Father slammed his palm against the table and shot to his feet.

"We need a man capable of running this company."

His finger pointed in my direction.

"André has no interest in Larsen Inc."

"Last time I checked..."

I finally spoke.

"...that wasn't a requirement."

The room fell silent.

Father turned to me.

His expression hardened.

For a moment, he probably expected me to sit there and watch him twist the will to suit himself.

He should've known better.

The will wasn't complicated.

He just wanted everyone else to think it was.

"It's tradition," Father argued.

"It's not a goddamn requirement."

My voice remained steady.

Father was the only man I'd ever respected.

Not simply because he was my father.

Because he was brilliant.

Calculating.

Patient.

He could convince a man to sign away everything he owned without ever raising his voice.

That was the game he was trying to play now.

Only...

I wasn't every other man.

I wasn't falling for it.

His eyes met mine.

Neither of us looked away.

I slowly looked him up and down before meeting his gaze again.

"Right?"

A tight smile stretched across his face.

He pulled his chair back into place.

"Right."

He sat down.

Charlie looked at me and gave a small, approving nod.

For some reason...

That approval meant more to me than it should have.

She was thirty-two.

Confident.

Composed.

The kind of woman who owned every room she entered.

A thought crossed my mind.

She and Skyler would probably get along.

Too well.

"How about Rhea?"

Charlie asked.

Fuck.