Chapter 70

Sean POV

I stood at the entrance of Shaw Tower, watching Christopher's Mercedes pull up to the curb. My jaw clenched involuntarily as Angela stepped out, the afternoon sun catching those sapphire earrings I'd given her.

She moved with that characteristic grace of hers, as if the whispers and stares of passing employees meant nothing to her.

"Where have you been?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice. "The quarterly review meeting starts in ten minutes."

She straightened her coat-that oversized one she'd taken to wearing lately-with deliberate calm. "I was having lunch, as I'm entitled to during my break hour."

"Lunch?" My gaze shifted to Christopher, still seated in his car, watching us with that infuriatingly knowing expression. "With him?"

"Yes, with him." Angela's voice took on that steel edge I knew too well. "I don't believe who I have lunch with is any of your concern. After all, I'm not the one spending nights at the hospital with someone else."

The jab hit its mark. I felt my jaw tighten further, acutely aware of the junior analysts slowing their pace to eavesdrop. Damn it. This wasn't the place for this conversation.

"You're my executive assistant," I lowered my voice to a whisper, though the anger still leaked through. "Your whereabouts during office hours are absolutely my concern."

"I have a one-hour lunch break, as clearly stated in my contract." She met my gaze without flinching. "I haven't violated any company policies. And perhaps you should consider the audience before continuing this discussion."

She was right about the audience-I could see the growing crowd of onlookers, poorly concealing their interest. But seeing Christopher finally emerge from his car, I couldn't stop myself from turning to him.

"Blake," I kept my voice low but threatening. "I suggest you keep your distance from my wife in the future."

Those amber eyes of his held a hint of amusement that made my blood boil. "I wasn't aware lunch between old friends was forbidden territory, Shaw. Unless, of course, there's another reason for your... concern?"

Before I could respond, Angela stepped between us. "We have a meeting to attend," she reminded me coolly. "Shall we maintain some professional decorum?"

Without waiting for my response, she strode into the building. I watched her go, fighting the urge to grab her arm and demand more answers. Christopher's thoughtful smile as he watched us only intensified my anger.

Hours later, I sat alone in a corner booth at the Plaza Hotel's bar, an untouched glass of aged scotch before me.

William's arrival shattered my brooding. His designer loafers squeaked slightly against the polished floor as he slid into the booth, with Evan following more sedately behind him.

"The Plaza? Really?" William dropped into the seat across from me, signaling for service.

"William? How did you-" I looked at him in surprise. "I only called Evan." I'd wanted a quiet evening to think things through, but that wasn't going to happen now. William had never been what anyone would call a quiet presence.

"What, do you and Evan have some secret I'm not supposed to know about?" William grinned. "I just came from visiting Christina at the hospital. Her wound still hasn't fully healed. How could Angela do something so vicious? I don't understand how you can put up with that woman-"

"That woman," Evan cut in quietly, "is still Sean's wife."

William scoffed, and I felt my hand tighten around the glass. "In name only. Everyone knows it's just a business arrangement. And after what she did to Christina-"

"What exactly did she do?" Evan's voice remained calm, but I could hear the challenge in it. "Did you actually see it happen?" Evan's voice remained calm, but there was an edge to it. "You were in Christopher's garden that night too, weren't you?"

"I didn't need to be there," William retorted. "Jennifer saw everything. Angela deliberately pushed Christina into that statue. She's always been jealous of Sean and Christina's connection."

"Angela didn't push Christina. She didn't do anything wrong." The words came out before I could stop them.

"Of course it is!" William leaned forward, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Sean, be honest. You've always cared about Christina. Even back in college, everyone knew you two were meant to be together. This marriage to Angela-it was just to please your grandmother, wasn't it?"

I stared out at the glittering cityscape, seeing my own reflection fractured in the window glass. The memory of that day five years ago suddenly surfaced-the moment I'd heard about Wilson Investment's collapse.

"You weren't there," I said finally, "when Wilson Investment collapsed."

William blinked, clearly thrown by what seemed like a change of subject. "What does that have to do with-"

"I was in London," I continued, barely hearing him. "When I heard about the crisis, I took the first flight back. Not for the business opportunity. Not because Grandmother asked. But because..."

I couldn't finish the sentence. The truth of why I'd rushed back from London that day was something I'd never fully admitted, even to myself.

"Because of Angela," Evan completed quietly. "You came back for her."

William stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "I need some air." He stalked toward the bar's entrance, leaving Evan and me alone with too many unspoken truths hanging between us.

Evan waited until William was out of earshot before speaking again. "You need to be honest with yourself, Sean. About Angela, about Christina-about all of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I've known you since Yale," he replied steadily. "I was there when you first met Christina. And I was there when you dropped everything to fly back from London the moment you heard about Wilson Investment's troubles."

My jaw tightened. "That was different. The situation-"

"The situation," Evan interrupted gently, "was that you couldn't bear the thought of Angela facing that crisis alone. Not because of business, not because of family obligations, but because even then, she meant more to you than you were willing to admit."

I stayed silent, watching the city lights blur in the window glass. The truth of his words hit too close to home.

"Christina's a convenient distraction," Evan continued, his voice softening. "She represents the simple choice-the path everyone expected you to take. But Angela..." He paused, and I could feel him choosing his words carefully. "Angela challenges you. She makes you question things you'd rather not examine too closely."

"You don't understand," I managed finally, my voice rough. "The expectations, the responsibilities-"

"I understand perfectly," Evan cut in. "I understand that you're letting other people's expectations dictate your choices. I understand that you're using Christina as a shield against feelings you're not ready to face." He leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "What I don't understand is why you're willing to lose something real for the sake of maintaining an illusion."

The ice in my untouched scotch had long since melted, diluting the amber liquid into something weaker than it appeared. Like so many things in my life lately, nothing was quite what it seemed.

"If you can't choose," Evan said quietly, rising from his seat, "then perhaps the kindest thing would be to let Angela go." He placed a hand briefly on my shoulder. "Remember, Sean, a person can't be too greedy in life."