Victoria spent Friday in back-to-back meetings that required her full attention and received about half of it. Her mind kept drifting to Thursday's presentation, to Kieran's words, to the impossible thing he was suggesting without quite saying it.
"You seem distracted," Simone observed over lunch at The Chanler. "The board approved Hayes. You won. Why do you look like you're facing execution?"
Victoria pushed her salad around. "He told me he's attracted to me."
Simone's fork clattered against her plate.
"After the presentation. When everyone had left." Victoria finally met her eyes. "And I didn't shut it down the way I should have."
"Because you want to walk through it."
It wasn't a question. Victoria nodded miserably.
"I haven't felt like this in twenty years," she admitted. "Edmund was safe and practical and everything made sense. This makes no sense. He's too young, I'm his client, and if anyone found out it would be disastrous for both of us. But when I'm around him, I feel alive in a way I'd forgotten was possible."
Simone studied her face. "Do you remember when you first started dating Edmund? You were twenty-two, terrified about your future. Edmund offered security and purpose. I asked if you loved him, and you said love was a luxury you couldn't afford."
Victoria remembered. She'd been so afraid of ending up ordinary, of going back to Providence working a job she hated just to pay bills.
"You were terrified," Simone said. "And you chose safety over passion because that's what you thought you had to do. But you're not that scared girl anymore. You're forty-three, wealthy, accomplished. The question is whether you're brave enough to choose something else."
"There are real consequences. The board is already questioning my judgment. Margaret is looking for any excuse to undermine me."
"Maybe. Or maybe you're using that as a cover because being vulnerable is scarier than any board battle." Simone's voice was gentle but firm. "Is it really about your career? Or about protecting yourself from the possibility of getting hurt?"
Victoria didn't have an answer she was willing to look at directly.
That evening, alone in her mansion, she found herself surrounded by her old architectural sketches. She'd been returning to them all week, remembering the girl who'd believed that spaces could transform lives, that beauty mattered.
What had happened to that girl?
Her phone buzzed. Kieran, because of course it was.
*Working late on material samples. Found something I want your opinion on. Any chance you're free tomorrow?*
Tomorrow was Saturday. Victoria never worked Saturdays. Weekends were for rest and maintaining the careful distance between her professional and personal lives.
She typed: *What time?*
*Morning? I'm at the Thames Street site. Come see the space with fresh eyes.*
She knew she should say no. Going to a construction site on a Saturday, just the two of them, was exactly the kind of situation that led to complications.
*Nine o'clock*, she typed before she could overthink it.
She slept poorly. By eight-thirty Saturday morning she'd changed outfits three times, finally settling on jeans and a cashmere sweater. She left her hair down, telling herself it was practical for a construction site.
The Thames Street building sat in the heart of Newport's historic district, a four-story brick structure that had housed various businesses since the 1890s. Ashford & Co. had purchased it two years ago, but the project had stalled waiting for the right vision. Victoria stood on the sidewalk and looked up at it. Good bones. A structure with history, waiting to be transformed.
She climbed the temporary stairs to the third floor and found Kieran surrounded by tile samples and fabric swatches, hands covered in dust, wearing jeans and a paint-stained shirt. He looked up and smiled, and she felt that familiar flutter in her chest.
He led her to the north-facing windows where he'd arranged a tile mock-up that shifted from cream to gold, catching the morning light so each piece seemed to glow from within.
"Morning light makes them feel hopeful," he explained, his enthusiasm infectious. "Afternoon light is warmer, more intimate. I want you to see it now because the effect is most pronounced."
Victoria ran her fingers over the surface. Slightly rough, imperfect, honest in their handmade quality. Nothing like the sleek manufactured perfection that dominated luxury retail.
"They're right," Kieran said, standing close enough that she felt his warmth. "Not just beautiful. They tell the story we need to tell about craft and things that last."
"Why me?" she asked quietly. "You could be interested in anyone. Someone your own age, someone without all my complications."
He turned to face her. "Because the first time I saw your photo on the company website, before I even met you, I saw something in your eyes. This sadness mixed with strength, like you'd survived something that should have broken you but instead made you sharp. And then I met you and realized you're brilliant and complicated and lonely in a way that makes me want to know everything about you. Age is irrelevant. Complications are irrelevant."
"You don't really know who I am."
"Then let me learn." He took her hand, the gesture simple but weighted. "I'm not asking for forever. I'm just asking for a chance to see where this goes. Wouldn't you rather find out than spend the rest of your life wondering?"
Victoria looked down at their joined hands. His was larger, rougher, the hand of someone who built things. Hers was soft, manicured. They shouldn't fit together. But they did.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"I know. I'm scared too. But I think that's how you know it matters."
She took a breath. "If we did this, it would have to be discreet. No one at the company could know. And if it ever compromised the project or became public, it would have to end. Non-negotiable."
"Those are reasonable boundaries."
"Yes," she said. "We're giving this a chance."
His smile was brilliant. He pulled her closer and kissed her, deliberate and tender, nothing like their first collision on the Cliff Walk. This was a choice they were both making with full awareness of the consequences. Something cracked open in her chest, some locked door she'd been guarding for years.
When they finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers. "Just so we're clear, I'm absolutely terrified. This is the most important project of my career and I just started a relationship with my client. But I don't care. You're worth it."
Victoria laughed despite herself. "We're both idiots."
"Probably. But at least we're idiots together."
They stayed at the site until noon, talking about everything except work. Victoria told him about her childhood in Providence, the fear that had driven so many of her choices. He asked if she resented Edmund, and she shook her head.
"He was good to me. But I do regret that I trained myself to see love as a transaction instead of something that could transform you."
"I'm not asking you to be someone you're not," Kieran said. "Just let me see the real you sometimes. Not the CEO, not the widow. Just Victoria."
"I'm not sure I remember who that is."
"Then we'll figure it out together."
Because they couldn't be seen together in public, Victoria brought him to her mansion. She watched as he stood in the living room, taking in the soaring ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Atlantic.
"This place is incredible," he said. "But it doesn't feel like you. It's beautiful but cold. Like a museum."
Victoria realized she didn't have a good answer about where she actually lived inside it.
In the kitchen she made pasta while he sat at the island asking questions. He asked about the library, the one she'd design if she could design anything.
"All glass on the south side for natural light," she said, stirring the sauce. "The stacks were arranged to create intimate reading nooks. And a children's section full of color and whimsy, because kids should learn early that libraries are magical." She paused. "I used to sketch it in college. Different versions. It was going to be my thesis project. Then I met Edmund, and it seemed impractical."
"Do you resent him for that?"
"No. That was my choice. I chose security over dreams because I was scared." She brought the plates to the island. "I've been scared my whole life. Scared of being poor, scared of failing, scared of wanting things I might not get. So I calculated every decision. Made sure I never wanted anything I couldn't have."
"And how's that working out for you?"
Victoria laughed. "I'm forty-three, wealthy, successful, and completely empty."
Kieran set down his fork. "You're not empty. You're buried. Under obligations and all the shoulds you've convinced yourself matter more than you want . But Victoria, you're still in there. I see her sometimes when you talk about design. She's just scared to come out."
"Because coming out means risking everything I've built."
"Or it means finally building something real."
After lunch they moved to the terrace overlooking the ocean, wrapped in blankets against the November wind. They sat close together watching waves crash against the rocks below.
"This is my favorite part of the house," Victoria admitted. "Out here I can almost forget everything else."
Kieran pressed a kiss to her temple. "You'd be a better CEO if you did things that brought you joy sometimes. It's hard to inspire people when you're running on empty."
She knew he was right. She'd been running on empty for years, using work to avoid feeling anything real, convincing herself that exhaustion was the same as fulfillment.
They stayed on the terrace until sunset, talking about his brothers, his father, who'd raised three boys alone while working sixty-hour weeks and told Kieran, when he was accepted to a construction apprenticeship, that he'd spent forty years building things he didn't care about because he had to, and that his son had the chance to build things that mattered. Life's too short for me.
Victoria felt tears prick her eyes.
"He'd like you," Kieran said. "Though he'd probably also tell me I'm an idiot for getting involved with my client who's fifteen years older than me."
"Money doesn't make me better than you."
"I know. But our lives are fundamentally different. You've probably spent more on your outfit today than I make in a month. That's not a judgment. It's reality. And something we're going to have to navigate."
"I'm not after your money," he added. "I'm after you. The person, not the portfolio." He kissed her softly. "Though I won't pretend the power dynamic isn't complicated. You could end my career with one phone call. That exists whether we acknowledge it or not."
As evening fell, Kieran stood to leave. Victoria walked him to the door, suddenly reluctant to let him go.
"Thank you for today," she said. "For being patient with me."
"Thank you for taking the risk." He kissed her one more time, long and slow. "I'll see you Monday for the kickoff meeting?"
"Monday. Professional and appropriate."
"Completely professional." His smile was teasing. "I'll barely remember I know what you look like with your hair down."
After he left, Victoria stood in her empty mansion and realized something had shifted. The house didn't feel like the mausoleum it had been for the past four years. Something had changed, and she had changed with it.
She went to her office and pulled out her sketchbook. For the next three hours she designed. Not the library. Something smaller. A studio for her terrace, all glass and light, a place to create without judgment.
It was impractical and self-indulgent and completely unnecessary.
It was also the first thing she'd wanted for herself in twenty years.
Maybe Kieran was right. Maybe life was too short for me. Maybe it was time to start building something real.