“I mean it,” Joanna Lawrence said, offering a small, practiced smile that reached her eyes but didn't quite settle in her heart. “You’ve explained the complexity of the situation. I understand the need for professional restraint.”
“Joanna, listen to me,” Ashton Heath said, his voice dropping to a serious, grounding register. “Your standing in this family is absolute. Do not let the shadows of the past or the logistical delays of the present cloud your perception. I am not a man who walks away from a commitment, and I certainly have no intention of letting you go. Ever.”
“I know,” Joanna replied, her tone obedient and calm. “I trust your word.”
Ashton watched her for another moment, searching for a crack in her composure. He felt a lingering sense of unease, as if he were missing a vital piece of the emotional puzzle. “You aren’t just saying that to appease me?”
“No,” she whispered. “I believe in the strength of our arrangement.”
Ashton breathed a sigh of relief, leaning down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to her forehead. “That is all I need to hear. I’ll be in the study to finalize the reports for tomorrow. We’re picking up Jeremy together, remember? We’ll make it a celebration for his recovery.”
Joanna nodded, the same clever, compliant smile remaining on her lips until the bedroom door finally clicked shut.
The moment the lock turned, the light in Joanna’s eyes vanished. She remained seated against the headboard, her posture stiff and unmoving.
He still perceives the barrier, she thought, a cold realization settling in her chest. Despite his comforting words, the fact that he had halted the progression of their intimacy felt like a silent judgment. To her, it felt like an admission that the unseen fragments of her history—the events she barely understood herself—were a source of fundamental distrust for a man as meticulously controlled as Ashton Heath.
She had expected the distance. She had prepared herself for the reality that a man of his stature would require a level of transparency she couldn't yet provide. What she hadn't expected was the sharp, physical ache of disappointment. She had thought she wouldn't care, that she was safe within the walls of their legal agreement. But the sadness was there, heavy and undeniable, proving that somewhere along the line, she had stopped seeing this as just a contract.
The Study
Ashton stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of red wine in his hand, though he barely tasted it. Outside, the moon cast a pale, frosted glow over the landscape, mirroring the cold clarity of his thoughts. He knew that by stopping tonight, he had created a fracture, but the alternative—moving forward while a critical truth remained hidden in the shadows—felt like a betrayal of the respect he had for her.
He took out his phone and dialed a number that was answered almost before the first ring finished.
“Ashton?” Yannick Luther’s voice came through, characteristically sharp but layered with a hint of nocturnal fatigue. “It’s unlike you to seek counsel in the middle of a spring night. Especially as a newlywed. Should I assume the silence of the Heath residence has become too loud for you? If you're looking for an expert opinion on navigating a diplomatic crisis in the bedroom, you’ve called the right man.”
Ashton’s voice was like ice. “One more remark of that nature, Yannick, and I will personally ensure your father accelerates his plans for your ‘lifelong settlement.’ I believe he has a list of candidates ready.”
The silence on the other end was instantaneous. “...Understood. My apologies, Ashton. I’ll keep the dialogue strictly professional. I assume this isn't a social call. What’s the situation?”