Chapter 40
2562words
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Kitchen
The estate was unusually quiet.
Not tense. Just… expectant.
Sebastian nursed a second cup of espresso at the kitchen island. Vex scrolled through encrypted updates on his tablet, while Ash was already halfway through a bowl of cereal loaded with suspiciously colorful marshmallows. Eli leaned against the doorframe with his signature sunglasses perched on his head, arms folded like a man watching a live drama that hadn’t started yet—but was about to.
Footsteps echoed down the stairs.
Lucian entered first, crisp and composed as ever. Charcoal button-down tucked into dark slacks. Clean lines. Intentional sharpness. Controlled without even trying.
Kristina followed just behind, not hurried. Not following, either. Just… beside him. Her hair was still slightly damp, boots laced tight. She looked ready for the day—clean, cool, unbothered.
They reached the threshold of the dining room before she paused.
Lucian, sensing it, slowed a fraction. But before he could glance over—
Kristina reached out, one hand moving with casual precision. She tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt—just where it had bunched unevenly against his belt. A small adjustment. Simple. Intimate. Like it wasn’t the first time she’d done it.
Lucian didn’t stop her.
Didn’t flinch. Didn’t move away.
When she was done, she gave the shirt a light pat—more muscle memory than meaning—then moved past him and headed for the table like nothing had happened.
Lucian watched her for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then followed.
Ash’s spoon paused mid-air.
Vex glanced up from his tablet, a faint smirk flickering at the corner of his mouth.
Sebastian didn’t look up. Just took a slow sip of coffee and muttered, “Well, they’re definitely domestic now.”
Eli, however, raised a brow—not surprised, exactly, but registering the detail. His expression didn’t change much, but his next words had just a little more edge than usual.
“Huh,” he said. “Fixing his shirt before breakfast. How very married of them.”
Kristina didn’t respond. She took her seat, grabbed a mug, and poured herself a coffee like nothing was out of place.
Lucian sat next to her a moment later, expression unreadable—but his posture was a little more relaxed. Like the small gesture had anchored something.
Ash finally spoke. “So, are we pretending that wasn’t a thing?”
Vex shrugged. “We’re pretending like it’s normal. Which, apparently, it is.”
Eli leaned into the counter, popping a grape into his mouth. “Man disappears for ten days, comes back to find his boss and the resident murder queen are playing house. This is what I get for trying to take a mental health break.”
Kristina gave him a sidelong glance. “Don’t act surprised. You always know everything.”
Eli grinned, sharp and wide. “Knowing and seeing are two different things. Now I have visuals. Thanks for that.”
Lucian didn’t look at him. Just buttered a piece of toast.
Eli watched him for a beat longer—then flashed a too-bright smile.
“Well,” he said cheerfully, “if you two start color-coordinating outfits, I’m filing an HR complaint.”
Kristina arched a brow. “We don’t have an HR department.”
“Exactly,” Eli muttered. “Dangerous times.”
Ash snorted. Vex shook his head. Sebastian finally looked up from his espresso with a dry, “Welcome back, by the way.”
The conversation drifted back to schedules and briefing logistics, but the current had already shifted. Something unspoken had settled into the group—not shock. Not discomfort.
Just… confirmation.
And no one said it out loud.
Because they didn’t have to.
Sinclair Dominion HQ | Entrance Hallway
The glass doors of Sinclair Dominion’s private parking bay slid open with a quiet hiss, letting in the hush of morning air and the click of polished boots against marble.
Lucian walked ahead with his usual precision—charcoal grey suit, sharp lines, presence cutting a path before he even spoke.
Kristina followed a step behind. Instinct. Old habit. Old hierarchy.
But then—he stopped.
Without a word, Lucian reached back—not to guide, not to signal—but to find her hand.
And he held it.
Deliberate. Calm. Unhurried. His fingers laced with hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Kristina blinked. Not out of hesitation, but quiet surprise.
Not because of the contact, but because of the timing. The place.
Here, in the heart of Sinclair Dominion.
He didn’t look at her. Didn’t pause.
He just kept walking—her hand still in his.
Kristina didn’t pull away.
She matched his pace without a word.
A few steps behind, Ash simply nodded once, like it checked out.
Vex gave a faint, knowing snort, but didn’t comment.
Sebastian glanced at the hallway clock and muttered, “Took long enough.”
And Eli, walking with his usual slouch and mischief, just let out a quiet:
“Well, we’re doing hand-holding now. Cute.”
But it wasn’t mocking. Not really.
There was a twitch of something else behind his sunglasses—quick, quiet. A flare of something unspoken before he shoved it back under humor like he always did.
“Do we clap? Throw rice? Or just get matching team bracelets?” he added, with a grin too wide to be pure sarcasm.
Lucian didn’t even turn.
Kristina, however, cracked the smallest smirk.
By the time they stepped into the polished glass of the executive lobby, eyes were already on them.
Conversations halted mid-sentence.
A few assistants stopped walking. Someone dropped a pen.
Because that wasn’t just proximity.
That was Lucian Sinclair—stoic, unreadable, untouchable—walking into his empire with a woman beside him, her hand in his.
Not hidden. Not strategic.
Kristina kept her expression neutral, her steps steady—but she saw every flicker of attention. Every subtle shift. The slow ripple that always followed the unexpected.
She didn’t let go.
Neither did he.
“You’re holding my hand in public,” Kristina said quietly, voice flat but edged with dry amusement.
“I’m aware,” Lucian replied.
“You’re not exactly subtle.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
She exhaled through her nose. “So this is what we’re doing now.”
Lucian didn’t smile, but there was something close at the edge of his mouth.
“If you’d prefer something less obvious, I could kiss you in the elevator instead.”
Kristina stared straight ahead. “Hand is fine.”
The elevator chimed. Lucian let her step in first. Another small gesture—unspoken, deliberate.
The doors slid shut behind them.
And somewhere behind the tempered glass, Savannah Miller watched—expression brittle, fingers curling around the phone in her hand like it might crack.
Sinclair Dominion HQ | Executive Floor Hallway
Early Afternoon
Kristina moved through Lucian’s office with deliberate ease.
He’d sent her to retrieve a missing folder—something about a last-minute inclusion for the board. Simple errand. She knew exactly where he left it.
She crossed to the desk, reached for the document—then paused.
His phone buzzed. Just once. A brief vibration against the polished surface.
She didn’t mean to look. But her fingers brushed it as she picked up the folder, and the screen lit up.
Kristina stilled.
The lock screen was a photo.
Not just any photo.
In the library.
Wearing his shirt—sleeves pushed up, hair half-falling into her face as she scanned a row of titles. A quiet moment. Unposed. Unaware. Soft light, soft edges.
She blinked.
A beat passed.
Then another.
A small smile tugged at her mouth—unexpected, unguarded—but she didn’t linger.
She powered the phone back down, tucked the folder under her arm, and exited the office.
The hallway back to the boardroom was muted, polished, full of sleek glass and controlled air. Quiet enough that the click of her boots echoed faintly.
A figure stepped into her path.
Kristina stopped on instinct.
Savannah Miller.
Impeccable. Icy. All pearls, power heels, and carefully curated disdain. She angled herself with precision—subtle enough not to block, but deliberate enough to interrupt.
“Kristina.”
Smooth. Almost warm. Almost.
Kristina said nothing.
Savannah’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I imagine it’s… refreshing, being somewhere you don’t have to hide who you are anymore.”
“Though I suppose that depends on which version you’re selling today. Harrow or house pet?”
Kristina tilted her head. Just slightly.
Unbothered.
Unflinching.
“You seem very invested,” she said calmly, “for someone who claims not to care.”
Savannah’s lashes flickered. “I care about Sinclair Dominion. About reputation. Image. Stability.”
Her voice dipped. “Which is why it’s concerning, really. How quickly some people rise around here. Must be nice. Earning influence by proximity.”
That drew attention.
A few subtle glances from staff in passing. Half-turned shoulders. A murmur not quite masked.
Kristina didn’t look away.
“You’re right,” she said coolly. “Proximity can be powerful.”
She took a slow step forward.
“But influence? That’s earned when people trust you to walk beside them—not behind.”
Another step. Just enough to shift the balance.
“And if that makes you uncomfortable… you’re welcome to move.”
Savannah’s expression tightened. Just enough to betray the impact.
Kristina didn’t wait for a reply.
She walked past her—cool and composed.
The whisper of doors ahead. The hush of heels behind her.
And the unmistakable, silent weight of people taking note.
Sinclair Dominion HQ | Executive Boardroom
The room gleamed with glass and steel—understated in its wealth, like everything Lucian Sinclair touched. Polished concrete floors, custom insets of dark wood, and a single sculpture in matte brass gave the space a sense of quiet command. Board members filled their seats one by one, murmuring over tablets and leather portfolios. The mood was sharp, but not tense—professional with a current of anticipation beneath it.
It was the first official board meeting since the Black Harrow revelation. And though no one addressed it directly, the atmosphere said enough.
Lucian noticed.
He saw the way some of them sat a little straighter, more relaxed, their glances sweeping the room casually—as if checking. As if hoping she wouldn’t be there.
Eli stood near the table, answering a low question from Lucian. Sebastian waited by the doors, arms folded. No one seemed surprised that Kristina was absent—until the glass door opened.
She entered.
Unhurried. Folder in hand.
There was no announcement. No hesitation. Just the quiet shift in atmosphere as boots tapped across marble. A few heads turned. One of the younger board assistants paused mid-note. Several expressions changed—just slightly—at the sight of her.
Kristina didn’t so much as blink.
She walked directly to Lucian.
He turned in his chair the moment he sensed her. Not because of duty—but because it was her.
Kristina handed him the folder without a word, and Lucian reached out—not just to take it, but to meet her halfway. His hand brushed lightly against hers as he took it, and he looked back over his shoulder, offering a quiet, unmistakably real smile.
“Thank you.”
Kristina’s eyes flicked to his. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth—barely there, but seen.
Then, without fuss or pause, she stepped back—just one pace—and resumed her position against the wall behind him.
Not at the table. Not beside him.
But still clearly present.
The effect was instant.
One of the older board members froze mid-scroll on his tablet. A woman near the opposite end of the table blinked like she’d missed a cue. Two members exchanged silent glances—uneasy, uncertain.
Lucian noticed that too.
A deliberate clearing of the throat broke the air.
Savannah Miller had already taken her seat—but now she leaned forward slightly, her voice smooth as cut stone.
“Forgive me,” she began, tone neutral in a way that wasn’t, “but I’m still unclear on Ms. Alonzo’s role in these discussions.”
She didn’t glance at Kristina. She kept her eyes fixed on Lucian.
“There’s been no formal appointment. No disclosure to shareholders. I assume we’re all aligned on transparency?”
The silence that followed wasn’t surprised—it was expectant.
Measured. Like a match hovering near an open flame.
Lucian let the silence stretch, undisturbed..
He didn’t look at Savannah.
He looked at the room.
“If there are any concerns about her presence in this meeting,” he said evenly, “you’re welcome to bring them directly to me.”
He let the pause settle.
“Just know you’ll be bringing them to the CEO.”
Another pause.
“And I don’t make decisions I need to defend twice.”
Silence. Utter. Sharp.
A breath caught somewhere near the end of the table. One of the junior partners shifted his tablet slightly, as if afraid to make eye contact with anyone. Even Eli—who had heard Lucian at his coldest—raised a brow.
Lucian sat back.
Unshaken. Unbothered. Entirely in command.
He turned to Eli again.
No one objected.
But Kristina, standing quietly at her post behind him, noticed the faint twitch of Savannah’s fingers—just enough to curl into the edge of her leather-bound notepad.
Not enough to make a sound.
But enough to feel like something cracked.
And Kristina didn’t need to smile to know she’d just won.
Sinclair Dominion HQ | CEO’s Office
The city outside had turned to shadows and golden light. Glass and steel reflected back a world winding down, but Lucian’s office still burned with a soft, steady glow.
Kristina stood near the window, arms folded loosely, her reflection a blur against the dark skyline, not speaking a word. Lucian was still at his desk, sleeves rolled, collar loosened, a forgotten file open in front of him.
She finally broke the silence.
“You know everyone noticed today.”
Lucian looked up, not surprised by the observation. He leaned back in his chair, watching her with quiet certainty.
“They were meant to,” he said.
Kristina turned from the window, one brow raised, but not quite teasing. “You don’t usually care about optics.”
“I care about clarity,” Lucian replied. His voice was calm. Steady. “And people needed to understand where you stand.”
A beat passed. Kristina stepped closer—not crossing the room, just enough to close the distance by half.
“Why now?” she asked, softer this time.
Lucian didn’t hesitate.
“Because you stayed.”
There it was—unadorned. No dramatic pause. Just truth.
Kristina held his gaze for a moment. Then she exhaled, slow. Not defeated. Just… settling.
She moved to the edge of his desk and leaned lightly against it, hands braced at her sides. Lucian didn’t move, but his attention sharpened.
“You know,” she said, tone quieter now, almost wry, “you’ve made things very complicated.”
Lucian arched a brow. “I’ve made things clearer.”
Kristina tilted her head. “You held my hand. In front of everyone.”
“Yes, I did.”
Her lips quirked—not quite a smirk, but close. “Was it you being polite?”
Lucian leaned forward, elbows on the desk, voice low and even.
“That wasn’t just polite.”
She didn’t deny it.
Didn’t try to hide the way her fingers curled faintly against the edge of the wood.
“I didn’t say I minded,” she said.
Lucian studied her for a long moment—measuring not her words, but the shift between them. Then he stood slowly and crossed the space between them until they were face to face, close enough to feel each other’s breath.
But he didn’t reach for her.
Didn’t press.
He just looked at her like the whole day had led here.
“Neither did I.”
She stayed. Quiet and certain.
Didn’t speak.
She simply stayed.
And in that quiet, Lucian lifted one hand—just enough to brush his fingers lightly against hers where they rested on the desk. A silent question. A reaffirmation.
This time, she laced her fingers through his.
Not a declaration.
Not a promise.
Just something real.
Some truths don’t need announcing. They simply take their place.
—To be continued.
