Instead, he drew her back down, settling her onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her without force, just enough to keep her there, to keep her close. He could feel the way her heart raced, the tension in her body that she couldn't quite hide.
She was afraid.
Not of him.
But of losing him.
"Catherine… let me speak freely," he murmured, his voice lower now, near her shoulder.
She hesitated, then gave a small nod.
"When your father got sick, your company didn't collapse," he said. "Why?"
"Because the line of succession is clear," she replied instinctively. "Everything is structured. Everyone knows their place."
Then her brows drew together slightly. "But he's older. He has heirs. You…" she glanced at him, her voice softening, "you're not even married yet."
She understood what he was saying.
Too well.
She had seen families destroy themselves over uncertainty, over greed, over the absence of clarity. Her father had ensured that would never happen to them.
