Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 366

Chapter 366

Claire’s POV

I walked into Reynolds Real Estate Group’s headquarters at exactly nine a.m., my heels clicking against the marble with the kind of confidence I’d spent years perfecting. The receptionist glanced up, recognized me immediately, and straightened in her chair,

“Miss Vanderbilt,” she said, her smile professional but wary. “Mr. Reynolds is expecting you?”

‘He should be,” I replied coolly, though Lucas and I hadn’t actually discussed my coming here today.

But after last night’s excruciating dinner with his mother–two hours of thinly veiled criticism about my family’s declining social status–I’d decided I needed to establish my place in Lucas’s life more firmly.

Starting with an office. Right here. Where I could keep an eye on him.

The receptionist made a quick call, then nodded. “You can go up.”

I took the elevator to the executive floor, my stomach tight with anticipation.

I pushed through the double doors and stepped into the space that would soon be as much mine as his.

Floor–to–ceiling windows overlooked the city, the autumn sun casting everything in shades of amber.

Lucas sat behind his massive desk, a stack of documents spread before him, his reading glasses perched on his nose.

He looked up when I entered, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he didn’t speak. Just watched me with that cool, assessing gaze I both loved and hated.

“Claire,” he said finally, removing his glasses. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

“I thought we should discuss my new role here,” I replied smoothly, settling into one of the leather chairs across from his desk. ‘I want to work here, Lucas. With you.”

His expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Claire, this is my business. I don’t think-”

“We’re engaged,” I interrupted, keeping my voice level despite the flash of irritation in his eyes. It makes perfect sense for me to be involved in your company. I have an MBA from Wharton, remember? I’m not some decorative accessory.”

“I don’t keep track of former employees whereabouts.” He picked up a pen, tapping it once against the mahogany surface—a small tell that meant he was irritated with the line of questioning.

“And the baby?” I asked, keeping my voice carefully neutral.

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. “I had it handled.”

I felt a smile tugging at my lips, though I forced it down. This was a victory, but I couldn’t afford to look too pleased. Not when Lucas was watching me with

those calculating eyes, his fingers still tapping that pen in a rhythm.

“I’m glad,” I said carefully. “That must have been difficult for you.”

He said nothing, just set the pen down with deliberate precision and leaned back in his chair. The slight stiffness in his shoulders told me he didn’t want to discuss this further.

‘I want to use Sophia’s old workspace,” I announced, watching his reaction carefully.