I hold onto her for an extra second, drawing strength from her unwavering support. "Thank you."
She gives my arm one last squeeze and walks toward the main building. She glances back once, catching my eye, and I nod to let her know I'm okay. Then she disappears through the entrance and it's just me and Alex and about fifteen feet of parking lot gravel between us.
I walk toward him slowly, deliberately, trying to read hisexpression. He looks tense but not guilty, focused but not defensive. He looks like he's been waiting for this moment, prepared for it, ready for whatever I'm about to throw at him.
Part of me wants to scream at him. Part of me wants to burst into tears. Part of me wants to slap him across the face for taking the money in the first place, for putting me in this position, for making me doubt everything I thought we had.
"My father said you were in Dark River," I say when I'm close enough that I don't have to shout. My voice comes out cold, controlled, every bit of French precision my grandmother ever taught me. "Apparently already planning how to spend your two and a half million dollars. Measuring out square footage for your dream restaurant or whatever the fuck you're doing with blood money."
He flinches like I physically hit him, and something in his expression cracks. "Your father says a lot of things that aren't true."
"But the deal is true." I cross my arms over my chest, defensive, protecting myself. "You took his money. You shook his hand and agreed to the terms. You signed paperwork. So which part exactly did he lie about, Alex?"
"The deal is real," he says quietly, holding my gaze steadily. "I did take the money. I did shake his hand on it. But Isabelle, I'm not breaking up with you. I lied to your father when I said I would."
I stare at him. "That doesn't make any sense. My father will destroy you. He'll blacklist you in every city he has connections in, which is basically every city that matters. You know what he's capable of. You've seen what he can do."
"Let him try," Alex says, and he actually shrugs, like the idea of my father coming after him is mildly inconvenient at worst. "I don't really care what he does to me. What I care about is whether you're still with me. Whether you believe me when I say I love you and that taking his money doesn't change that."
I blink at him, trying to catch up, trying to make the pieces fit together in a way that makes sense. "So what's the plan with the money? You just take it, lie to his face, stay with me anyway, and hope he doesn't notice? Because if he hated you before, he'll really destroy you now. He's not going to let this go. He might even go after Harbor & Ash out of spite, mess with Theo, destroy everything you've built there just to punish you."
Alex smiles, and it's a slow, dangerous smile. "Well, the thing is, I didn't quite take the contract the way your father thinks I did. See, the deal was contingent on me using the money to start my own place and stay away from you. But that's not what I'm planning on doing with it."
I shake my head, completely lost, frustration building in my chest. "What are you talking about? You're not making any sense."
His smile widens, that dimple appearing in his cheek, his eyes bright with mischief and something that looks an awful lot like triumph. "Will you go for a drive with me? It's easier if I show you."
I look up at him, searching his face for any sign that this is a game, that he's playing me the way my father always has. But all I see is Alex—steady, confident, looking at me with so much love and hope and barely contained excitement that it makes my chest ache.
Maybe I'm an idiot. Maybe I'm setting myself up to get hurt. Maybe I should demand explanations right here in the parking lot before I go anywhere with him.
But Margot was right. One of these men has spent my entire life lying to me and trying to control me. The other one hasn't. And if I can't take a leap of faith for Alex after everything we've been through, then what was the point of any of it?
He reaches out his hand, palm up, waiting, and I take it.
He doesn't say much during the drive. The roads wind through vineyards bathed in late afternoon light, past farm stands closing up for the day and weathered oak trees that have probably been here longer than either of us have been alive.
I steal glances at him while he drives, trying to figure out what's going on in his head. His expression is relaxed, almost pleased, like he's holding onto a secret he can't wait to share. One hand is on the wheel, the other resting on the center console between us, close enough that I could reach over and touch him if I wanted to.
Part of me is growing giddy at the possibility that Alex didn't actually betray me, that there's some explanation that makes this all okay. Relief makes my chest feel lighter, makes it easier to breathe. But the uncertainty of what's ahead keeps me from relaxing completely, keeps my thoughts spinning in anxious circles.
"You're thinking so loud I can practically hear it," he says, glancing over at me with a smile.
"You can't hear thinking," I say automatically, falling into the familiar pattern of our banter. "It's in my head. Itcan'tbe loud."
He shoots me a look, amused and affectionate. "Yes I can, because you have the most expressive face I've ever seen. Every single thought shows up right there. You're cycling through about fifteen different scenarios right now, trying to figure out what I'm up to, and I can watch each one cross your face."
"And you're not going to just tell me?"
"No," he says cheerfully. "Because you'll like the surprise better. Trust me. It's nothing bad. Your father might not love it, but he's been an ass to you forever, so who cares what he thinks. And in a way, he's getting what he wants too. He's helping his daughter. Just not quite the way he expected."
He smiles to himself like he has a private joke running through his head, pleased and a little smug, and despiteeverything—despite the confusion and the doubt and the emotional exhaustion—I feel a small smile forming on my face.
It's impossible not to with Alex like this, his confidence filling the car, his good humor infectious, the way he makes everything feel like an adventure instead of a crisis. Even now, even with all the uncertainty, being near him makes me feel steadier, more grounded.
"What on earth are you talking about?" I ask.
He glances over at me with his most devastatingly charming smile, dimple on full display. "Almost there, Princess. Almost there."