She meant what she said, but I wasn’t sure if I could accept her forgiveness. “I needed to save him.”
She touched my face with both her hands. “You saved me. Isn’t that enough?”
I realized in that moment that I had two choices. I could focus on what I’d lost or what I’d saved. I had always focused on what I had lost as reason to drive myself harder and push myself past my limits, but I realized if I couldn’t let go of those losses, I might forfeit what I had saved—along with any chance of happiness.
I was humbled by Blaire, by her generous spirit and her ability to love so easily. “You really think this can work?”
She gave a half laugh while tears glimmered in her eyes. “Look what we just survived together. We can handle anything.”
This was my moment, my one chance at happiness. If I didn’t say yes, I would face a life without joy. “If we do this, we need to do this right.”
Her eyes lit up. “What does that mean?”
“For starters, I’m going to take you on a proper date.”
A week later, I parked my car in front of the huge house, the place where this all started. An embarrassingly large bouquet of flowers sat on the passenger seat beside me. I could feel myself sweating.
Swearing lightly under my breath, I got out of the car and looked down at my dark jeans and button-down shirt. I should have dressed up more, but it had been a choice between this and my one suit. The jeans won. Now, I mentally berated myself for not making more of an effort.
It’s only dinner at your place.
I reached in and grabbed the bouquet, momentarily debating if I should forget the flowers and shove them in the trunk.
Move it, soldier.
My feet crunched on the gravel beneath my feet. It was stupid that I was feeling this unnerved. Blaire had seen me at my absolute worst.
This is different.
I knew how to protect her, but her grandmother’s words weighed heavily in my chest. I wasn’t sure I knew how to make her happy.
The whine of an expensive engine roared up the road, and a small red convertible swung in between the doorway and me.
Pierre.
He got out of the car and only caught sight of me when he turned to shut the car door. He looked between the flowers in my hand and my pressed shirt.
“Oh, have you moved into the flower-delivery business? Good idea. You’re probably better suited for this line of work.”
I didn’t even blink. “Don’t you ever go away?”
“I was going to ask you the same question.”
Ignoring him, I moved around his car and toward the door.
He grabbed my arm. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
It was time someone spoke the truth to this guy. “Blaire and I have a date.”
He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “You really are delusional, aren’t you?”
I itched to deal with Pierre my way, but I was well aware that he was a close family friend of the Asterdams, so I worked to be diplomatic, even though the words tasted bitter coming out of my mouth. “No hard feelings, okay?”
He laughed again. “No hard feelings?” He dramatically paused. “Do you actually think I’m going to let you near her?”
“I don’t think you have much choice.”
“Now that Edward is gone—no thanks to you—these two women need a real man. They need someone to keep the family shipping business moving forward.”
Unease slid across my gut. “You think that’s your role?”
“Well, it’s not going to be you, now, is it?” He stepped forward, speaking in a soft voice. “If you really care for her the way you think you do, the best thing you can do for her is walk away.”
He was speaking my deepest fears out loud. “Time for you to shut up.”
“You don’t know this world, do you?” He looked up at the mansion in front of us. “These two move in some pretty elite circles.”
I held his gaze and didn’t move a muscle, but I remembered the judge and the mayor at the funeral. The kind of people who hated men like me.
He stared into my eyes. “How do you expect to fit in? You’re going to be expected to dine among the upper echelons of society and discuss things like the ballet season, index and market futures, and which groomer got fired at the McKenzies’ stables. You don’t know this world. You would drown, and you would bring Blaire down with you—like all drowning men do.”
I hated that every time I spoke to Pierre, he spoke the truth of my doomed relationship with Blaire. “Why do you care?”
“I care because she’s mine. Mine to date and mine to marry. I’ve had my eye on her since I met her. She’s everything a man could want.”
He was feeding my self-doubt by the shovelful. If I got the sense that he truly loved her, then maybe I could find the strength to walk away, knowing I had done the right thing.
“Which is?”
“She’s a beautiful, stylish woman, and any man would be proud to have her on his arm.”
Pierre hadn’t once mentioned how Blaire’s constant curiosity drove her toward everything interesting in life. He didn’t bring up her adorable, never-ending questions that often drew attention to things other people didn’t notice. He didn’t talk about her incredible resilience, which allowed her to survive the worst of circumstances with a smile. Or her instinct to reach out with a soft hand in dark moments, when her touch was needed most.
“I don’t like your answer,” I told him.
“I don’t give a shit.”
Who was I kidding? I could never let this idiot near her. When it came to Blaire, I was all in. Maybe I was dating way out of my league, but I would show up every single time until she told me I was no longer welcome.
In the meantime, I needed to deal with Pierre. “Time for you to leave.”
He looked amused. “You really want a repeat performance?”
“You don’t love her. Not the way she deserves to be loved.”
“My feelings are none of your business.”
“Blaire’s happiness is my business.”
He pushed up his sleeves. “I didn’t want it to come to this, Viktor. I’m giving you one chance here to do the right thing. You get in your car, and you don’t come back. No questions asked.”
I tried not to laugh. “And if I don’t?”
“You don’t remember the last time we fought?”
I cracked my knuckles. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He started the dance in front of me, his fists up in front of his face like a boxer. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”
I stepped back and laid the bouquet on the trunk of his car. “Take your best shot.”
Without warning, he swung. But at the last second, I moved my head back, causing him to miss. Grunting, he swung again, but that shot was also easy to duck.
He kept swinging, and I kept faking him out, until he was panting with effort.
“Come on, Pierre. If you want to hit me, you have to make contact.”
“Quick fucking moving,” he grunted, as his fist narrowly missed my chin.
I parroted his patronizing words back at him. “Now, I’m going to give you one chance to get into your car. No questions asked.”