Heir Clause

Chapter 6: A dinner of Almost

Later That Day

Caliste wandered to the beach, still fuming. How could one man be so emotionally constipated and still make her stomach twist with one look?

She sat under a shaded cabana, trying to read, when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Alone again?" Jace asked, appearing with two cold drinks.

She forced a smile. "Seems to be a theme lately."

He handed her one and sat beside her. "He doesn't look like he deserves you."

"You don't know him."

"Neither do you."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

Jace shrugged. "You don't know the real him, Caliste. Not the way someone should know their partner. You've been playing house for three years, right? But did he ever actually let you in?"

The words hit a little too close.

"I thought I knew him," she admitted. "But now? I'm not sure."

Jace leaned closer. "You could do better."

"I could do worse," she muttered.

He chuckled. "You still have that fire."

"Be careful, you might get burned."

Suddenly, a shadow fell across the cabana.

Lucian.

He stood there in black swim shorts, towel around his neck, looking like a Greek god carved in irritation.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked coolly.

Jace stood slowly. "Just catching up."

"With my wife," Lucian added sharply.

Caliste stood. "Lucian, don't—"

"No, please," Jace said with a smirk. "She's a grown woman. She can talk to whoever she wants."

Lucian's jaw ticked. "You're right. She can."

He looked at Caliste, his eyes unreadable. "Dinner. Tonight. Just us. You pick the place."

Caliste raised an eyebrow. "Is this an apology?"

"No. It's a start."

He walked away.

Jace let out a low whistle. "That man's got some nerve."

Caliste didn't respond. Her heart was pounding too loud to think.

-------

The sun dipped behind the ocean, casting the sky in hues of amber and rose. Caliste stood in front of the mirror in a silky dark red dress that clung to her curves but fell elegantly around her ankles. Her hair was loosely curled, her lips tinted berry red.

She wasn't sure why she tried this hard. It was just dinner.

But part of her wanted to see Lucian look at her—really look.

When she stepped into the private dining terrace of the resort, she saw him waiting at a candlelit table for two. Dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, he looked effortlessly expensive, like he belonged in a luxury magazine.

He stood when he saw her.

And for a second—just a second—his eyes softened. "You look beautiful."

Her heart skipped.

"Thanks," she said, trying to stay cool. "You look like money."

He smirked. "That's the goal."

They sat, menus untouched.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "what are we doing here?"

"Eating dinner."

"No. I mean... what are we doing, Lucian? Are we pretending again? Are we enemies? Roommates? Strangers who accidentally kissed?"

He stared at his wine glass, swirling the red liquid. "Does it have to be anything?"

She blinked. "Wow. That's mature."

"I'm not trying to play games, Caliste," he said, tone firmer now. "But I don't want to say something I'll regret. We were never supposed to get involved."

"Involved?" she echoed. "You kissed me like I was the only woman you've ever wanted. And now you're saying it meant nothing?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you won't say it meant something, either."

Lucian looked away. His silence said everything.

She felt it like a punch.

Just then, behind them, hidden by palms and shadows, a figure leaned against a stone column—Jace. Hands in his pockets, a half-smile on his face. Watching. Listening.

He'd followed them here, purely out of curiosity… or maybe something more.

Back at the table, Caliste leaned forward. "You want the truth? That kiss—it messed with me. I haven't been able to think straight since."

Lucian's jaw tightened. "That makes two of us."

"Then say it. Whatever it is. Say it's real. Say you care."

He met her gaze but didn't speak.

She laughed bitterly and sat back. "Right. Classic Lucian."

He grabbed her hand across the table, startling her. His grip was warm, strong.

"I'm not good at this," he said quietly.

"I don't need you to be perfect, Lucian," she said. "I just need you to be honest."

His lips parted like he was about to say something—then stopped. Closed again.

She waited. He said nothing.

She slowly pulled her hand away. "Then I guess we're done here."

She stood and left, her heels tapping sharply against the floor.

Lucian sat there, alone, the candle between them flickering in the night breeze.

From behind the column, Jace stepped out, watching her walk off.

He smiled to himself.

"Well," he murmured, "looks like your prince doesn't know how to hold onto a queen."

Caliste stood barefoot at the shoreline, the water lapping at her toes. The moon reflected silver over the waves, mocking her quiet heartbreak.

She wrapped her arms around herself. Why had she hoped Lucian would say something—anything? Even just, "I care." But instead, he sat there in silence, choosing safety over honesty.

She heard footsteps in the sand.

"Didn't expect to see you out here alone," Jace said gently.

Caliste didn't turn to him. "I needed air."

"You okay?"

"No," she said honestly.

He stepped beside her. "He's not worth your tears."

She gave a short laugh. "I'm not crying."

"But you want to."

Caliste glanced at him then, his profile softened by the moonlight. He was charming in a safe way. Familiar. Easy.

And tonight, that felt… tempting.

"I guess I'm stupid," she said. "For thinking he'd change."

"You're not stupid," Jace murmured. "You're hopeful. There's a difference."

She looked down. "Maybe I should've married someone like you."

His breath hitched slightly.

"You know," he said after a pause, "I used to wish for that too. Back when we were kids. I thought if I stayed close enough, maybe one day you'd look at me like that."

Her eyes flicked up to him, confused. "Like what?"

He stepped closer, voice dropping. "Like I mattered."

And before she could stop him, Jace leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn't forceful—but it wasn't hesitant either. It was intentional.

Caliste's eyes widened, her heart stuttering. Her hands stayed at her sides, unsure. She didn't pull away—at first. But the image of another kiss, another man's scent, another man's voice clouded her mind.

Lucian.

She broke the kiss. "Jace… I can't."

His face fell. "Because of him?"

"Because it wouldn't be fair to either of us."

He nodded slowly, stepping back. "I had to try."

Behind them, a cold voice sliced through the night air.

"Well, you've made your move. Can I have my wife back now?"

Caliste and Jace both turned sharply.

Lucian stood a few feet away, fists clenched at his sides, his expression unreadable—but his eyes burned.

"How long were you watching?" Jace asked, jaw tight.

"Long enough," Lucian growled.

Caliste stepped in between them. "Don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything," Lucian said, his voice bitter. "You're the one letting old flames kiss you on the beach."

Silence.

Jace cleared his throat. "Maybe we should all cool off—"

"Shut up," Lucian and Caliste said in unison.

Caliste turned back to Lucian, her chest rising and falling with angry breaths. "I can't keep doing this. One minute you're hot, the next you're ice. You won't say what you feel, and now you act like you own me?"

"You're my wife," he said tightly.

"In name only. And even that's temporary."

Lucian flinched like she slapped him.

Caliste took a deep breath, her voice quieter now. "I'm leaving the island."

Lucian froze. "What?"

"I'll take the yacht in the morning. I need space. You obviously don't want to figure us out—so I'll save you the trouble."

He stepped forward, his voice cracking. "Don't go."

She stared at him, surprised. "Then give me a reason to stay."

He opened his mouth—but again, no words came. Just that damn silence.

Tears welled in her eyes.

"You can't, can you?"

Lucian's hands trembled at his sides. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You already are."

She turned and walked off the beach.

Lucian stood there, alone again, the sea crashing quietly behind him.

Jace remained in the shadows, watching Lucian with something between pity and contempt.

"You had her," Jace muttered. "And you blew it."

The sun had only just started to rise, casting a warm gold across the sleepy harbor. The gentle sloshing of waves against the dock was the only sound accompanying Caliste as she waited quietly beside the yacht.

Her bag was packed. Her heart wasn't.

She'd left a note on the dining table. Short. Cold. Just like him.

> "I need space. Don't try to stop me."

But of course, that wasn't how things worked with Lucian Velmore.

She heard the low growl of an engine behind her, followed by the unmistakable sound of slammed car doors. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Caliste!" Lucian's voice cut through the salty air.

She braced herself.

He was walking toward her fast, his sleeves rolled up, hair still wet from a rushed shower, as if he'd only just realized she might actually go.

"Don't do this," he said breathlessly.

She looked at him, eyes unreadable. "Why not?"

"Because…" he paused, mouth open, searching for the right words. Then—nothing.

She folded her arms. "That's what I thought."

"I'm not the guy you want me to be," he muttered, gaze dropping to the dock. "I don't know how to be soft or… emotional. I'm not built for that."

"No one's asking you to recite poetry," she said flatly. "Just honesty would've been nice."

He dragged a hand through his hair. "I've given you everything else. A house. Freedom. Comfort. Isn't that enough?"

Her chest tightened. "You don't get it, do you? I never wanted things. I wanted you."

Lucian looked away, jaw clenched.

And that silence—his favorite weapon—fell between them again.

Then came the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Is there a problem here?" Jace's voice rang out, sharp and unwelcome.

Lucian's head snapped up, irritation flaring. "This doesn't concern you."

"It does when she's standing here alone, waiting for a goodbye you clearly can't give," Jace said, coming to Caliste's side.

Lucian narrowed his eyes. "Of course you're here. Like a shadow."

Jace ignored the jab. "She doesn't need another confusing half-apology. If you don't want her, let her go."

Caliste looked between them, voice barely above a whisper. "Lucian… Just tell me. Is there even a part of you that wants me to stay?"

Lucian opened his mouth. His throat tightened. The words hovered—but never came.

Finally, he looked away.

Jace stepped forward and took her bag gently. "Come on. You've waited long enough."

Lucian's eyes flicked to the bag, to her, to the ramp. His lips parted again—but still, nothing.

Caliste's eyes burned with unshed tears. But she nodded. "Yeah… I guess I have."

Without another word, she turned away from him.

Jace followed her up the yacht's ramp. The engines rumbled to life.

Lucian stood on the dock, fists clenched, heart pounding—but still frozen in place, his pride and fear chaining him down.

As the yacht pulled away, Caliste stood at the railing, watching the island shrink behind her.

She didn't cry.

Not yet.

But she felt the hole where hope used to be.