Free Web NovelChapter 340: It Matters To You
The valet brought the car around, and the night air was cool against Arianne’s skin as they stepped out of the hotel. The encounter in the hallway had lasted no more than thirty seconds—Dominic and Diana, frozen mid-step, the four of them facing each other in the gold light of the chandeliers. Arianne had given Dominic a nod, nothing more, and then she had kept walking. She had not looked back.
Franz had been silent ever since.
He opened the passenger door for her now, his hand steady on the frame, his expression unreadable. She slid inside without comment. The interior of the car was warm, the leather seats soft beneath her, the scent of his cologne lingering from the drive over. He closed her door with a soft click and rounded the hood to the driver’s side.
Before he started the engine, he reached into the backseat. When he turned back to her, he was holding a bouquet.
White camellias. Dozens of them, their petals layered and perfect, tied with a simple ribbon. He placed them in her lap without ceremony, as if he were handing her a document to review or a cup of coffee he’d poured without being asked.
Arianne stared at the flowers. Then at him.
"You bought me flowers."
"Yes."
"You’ve never bought me flowers before."
"I know." His hands settled on the steering wheel. "I thought it was time."
She lifted the bouquet. The camellias were cool against her fingers, their petals soft and white and delicately fragrant. She turned them over in her hands, examining them from different angles, and Franz watched her without speaking.
"Why not red roses?" she asked.
"I didn’t think you were into red roses." His voice was low, sincere. "White camellias have a unique charm. They reminded me of you."
Looking at him, she could see the residual tension in his shoulders from the encounter with Dominic, the way his jaw was tight. His voice had been steady when he spoke of the flowers. Certain. The way he always was when he talked about her.
She hid her smile behind the petals. "They’re beautiful."
"So are you."
"You said that already."
"I’ll say it every hour. You’ll get used to it."
She didn’t argue. She held the bouquet in her lap as he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Behind them, the security car followed at a careful distance, its headlights a steady presence in the rearview mirror.
The city passed outside the windows in a blur of lights and dark buildings. Franz drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her knee, his thumb moving in slow circles against the fabric of her dress. Neither of them mentioned Dominic or Diana. The encounter was already receding, replaced by the warm intimacy of the car, the warmth of the heater, the soft rustle of the camellias whenever Arianne moved in her seat.
"You’re still tense," she said.
"I’m fine."
"Your hand is gripping the wheel."
He glanced down at his hand. Loosened his grip. "I didn’t like seeing him."
"I know."
"He looked at you. He looked at you like—" He stopped. Shook his head. "It doesn’t matter."
"It matters to you."
"Yes. It matters to me." He turned onto the road that led to the estate. "He doesn’t get to look at you. Not anymore. Not ever."
"He can look at me all he wants. I’m not looking back."
Franz said nothing. Then his hand tightened on her knee. "I know you’re not. That’s not the point."
"Then what is?"
"The point is that he was there. Looking at you like he had any right to." His voice was controlled, but she could hear the anger beneath it. "He hurt you. Publicly. Deliberately. And now he stands in hallways and stares at you like he’s entitled to your attention."
"He’s not entitled to anything. He never was." She covered his hand with hers. "I gave him a nod. That’s all he’ll ever get from me. A nod. He’s not worth more than that."
Franz exhaled. Some of the tension left his shoulders. "A nod." freewebnoveℓ.com
"A very brief nod. Barely a tilt of the head."
"Was it a cold nod?"
"It was a dismissive nod. The kind you give someone you barely remember."
He almost smiled. "Good."
They drove the rest of the way in silence. The security car kept its distance. The camellias rested in Arianne’s lap, their petals pale in the darkness of the car.
The estate was hushed when they arrived. The twins were at their grandparents’ house for the weekend. The house felt different without them. Larger.
Arianne and Franz settled in the sitting room rather than going straight upstairs. The bouquet of camellias sat on the coffee table in front of them, a pale shock of white against the dark wood. Arianne had kicked off her heels and tucked her feet beneath her on the couch. Franz sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched.
"It’s too quiet," he said.
"I know."
"I miss Lily’s voice. She’s always talking. Even when there’s nothing to talk about, she finds something. This morning she explained to me why the calendar system is superior to digital reminders. She had a PowerPoint."
"She made a PowerPoint?"
"Three slides. With transitions."
Arianne almost smiled. "She gets that from Alex. He used to make presentations for everything. Dinner options. Vacation destinations. Why he should be allowed to buy a new car."
"I remember. He tried to convince our father to get a dog using a cost-benefit analysis. He was twelve. The dog didn’t happen, but the presentation was very convincing."
"He would have liked the pet debate. Lily and Leo have been negotiating for weeks."
"They’ll wear you down eventually."
"Probably."
Franz leaned back against the couch. "I miss Leo’s tablet dinging. That little sound it makes when he’s about to show you something. You never know if it’s going to be a question or a drawing or a demand for snacks."
"It’s usually a demand for snacks."
"Usually. But sometimes it’s a drawing. Those are my favorites."
Arianne looked at him. "When the twins first started spending weekends with your parents, I didn’t know what to do with the silence. I’d gotten used to the noise. The chaos. Lily narrating everything. Leo’s tablet. The constant background hum of two children existing in a space." She paused. "I got time to rest. I needed the rest. But there were moments when I’d find myself looking for them. Listening for their voices. The house felt empty without them."
"It feels empty now."
"Yes."
He turned his head on the couch cushion to look at her. "At least I can have you all to myself for the entire weekend. No interruptions. No PowerPoint presentations. No demands for snacks."
"You’ll miss the demands by tomorrow morning."
"Probably. But tonight I’m being selfish." He reached for her hand. Lifted it to his lips. Pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "You’re mine for the next two days. Mrs. Rochefort. Mommy Aria. Whatever name you’re using now."
"I’m using all of them. It’s very confusing."
"You’ll manage. You’re efficient."
She didn’t smile, and she didn’t pull her hand away either.
Franz stood and offered her his hand. She took it.
He led her up the stairs to his room, her heels left forgotten on the sitting room floor, the bouquet of white camellias cradled in her other arm. At the doorway, she paused.
"I need to put these in water."
"They’ll survive until morning."
"They’ll wilt."
"I’ll buy you more."
"You’ve bought me flowers once in our entire relationship. I’m not confident in your follow-through."
Franz took the bouquet from her hands and set it down on the nightstand. "I’ll buy you flowers every week. White camellias. Red roses. Whatever you want. I’ll fill the entire estate with them."
"That seems excessive."
"I’m an excessive man. You just haven’t noticed until now."
"I’ve noticed. I’ve been noticing for years."
He stopped. Looked at her. Something in his expression softened—the residual tension from the encounter with Dominic finally draining away.
"For several years," he said.
"You were very persistent."
"I was very in love. I still am."
She didn’t answer with words. She stepped forward, and his arms came around her, and the bedroom door closed behind them. The bouquet of white camellias sat on the nightstand, pale and perfect in the dim light, and the estate was hushed around them, and the weekend stretched ahead.
