The CEO and the Country Wildflower chapter 41

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The CEO and the Country Wildflower
Chapter 41: The Art of Coexistence


The penthouse was too quiet. Emelly Clus stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, arms crossed, staring at the glittering skyline of Lasmington. The city sprawled beneath her, alive and indifferent, while she felt anything but.


Behind her, Lucas York moved with deliberate silence, his presence a constant, unyielding weight in the space between them. "You're staring," he said, voice low. She didn’t turn. "I’m thinking." "About?" "How much I hate this." A pause. Then, the faintest exhale—almost a laugh. "You’re not the only one." That made her turn. Lucas stood by the sleek marble island in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up, the picture of controlled irritation. "You could at least pretend to be miserable," she muttered. He raised an eyebrow. "Would that make you feel better?" "Yes." "Then consider me devastated." She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the reluctant twitch of her lips. The penthouse was a fortress—modern, sterile, and painfully luxurious. Everything screamed Lucas York, from the monochrome decor to the absurdly high-tech security system. Emelly had half a mind to rearrange the furniture just to spite him. Instead, she wandered to the bookshelf, scanning the titles. "Do you actually read these, or are they just for show?" "Some." She pulled out a thick volume on corporate law. "This one?" "Cover to cover." "Liar." She flipped it open—and froze. The margins were filled with neat, precise notes. Lucas smirked. "Told you." She snapped the book shut. "I take it back. You’re insufferable." "And yet, here you are." Here she was. Trapped in his penthouse, forced into proximity by the unseen threat of Leo Brown.


The memory of her sabotaged apartment sent a chill down her spine. Lucas’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, jaw tightening. "David’s downstairs. He’ll bring your things from Jane’s." Emelly stiffened. "You didn’t tell her where I am, did you?" "No. Just that you’re safe." She exhaled. "Good. The less she knows, the better." Silence settled again, thick and uneasy.


Then Lucas spoke, voice quieter. "You should eat." "I’m not hungry." "You haven’t eaten since yesterday." She shot him a look. "Are you keeping track?" "Yes." The blunt honesty disarmed her. She huffed, crossing her arms again. "Fine. But I’m ordering takeout." "Not happening. It’s not secure." "Then what, you’re cooking?" He gave her a flat look. "I have a chef on standby." Of course he did. Twenty minutes later, a three-course meal appeared at the dining table. Emelly poked at the seared scallops, grudgingly impressed. "You’re staring again," Lucas said. She stabbed a scallop. "I’m just wondering how someone so annoying has such good taste in food." "Compensating for my personality." She snorted. The meal passed in surprisingly comfortable silence. It was strange—this fragile truce, the way their usual barbs lacked their usual bite. Then his phone rang.


Lucas answered, his expression darkening with every word. Emelly didn’t need to hear the conversation to know it was bad. When he hung up, his voice was grim. "Leo made a move on one of our subsidiaries." Emelly set her fork down. "How bad?" "Enough to require damage control." He stood. "I need to go to the office." She stood too. "I’m coming with you." "No." "I’m not staying here like some—" "You’re a target, Emelly." His voice cut through hers. "Leo knows you’re connected to me now.


Until we neutralize him, you don’t step foot outside unless it’s with me or David." She opened her mouth to argue—then stopped. Because he was right. The realization burned. Lucas softened slightly. "I’ll be back as soon as I can." She crossed her arms. "You better." A pause. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out, brushing his fingers against hers. Just for a second. The contact sent a jolt through her—not just from the sudden absence of his usual migraines, but from the unspoken reassurance in the gesture. Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. Emelly stared at her hand, warmth lingering where he’d touched her. This was dangerous. Not just Leo. This.