Marriage with my daughter's father: Darling please be gentle - Chapter 236

Chapter 236: Chapter 236:What are your intentions, Eric?

Lilac froze at the sound of the familiar name, her pulse stuttering as she turned to him, questions dancing on the tip of her tongue. But before she could speak, Stanley leaned in and kissed her.

It was sudden—urgent. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission, only surrender. His mouth claimed hers with a desperation that stole her breath, and before she could think, she was responding just as fiercely.

The car’s interior wrapped around them like a secret. Rain drummed softly against the windows, a rhythmic hush that made everything feel more intimate, more unreal. All Lilac could focus on was the heat radiating from Stanley’s body, the taste of him, the way his hands cradled her face as if she were something fragile—something worth protecting.

Her fingers slid into his hair, anchoring herself to the moment. His thumb traced her cheekbone, then down along the line of her jaw—his touch reverent, tender, but edged with hunger.

Stanley didn’t usually fall apart. He was all control, sharp lines and quiet resolve. But now, his kiss betrayed everything he kept buried—every fear, every longing, every sleepless night where her name echoed in his silence.

And Lilac understood. In the hush of the car, with fogged windows and hearts racing in sync, she felt it too. This wasn’t just a kiss. It was him unraveling—and her choosing to hold him together.

She didn’t pull back until he did. And even then, the moment between them snapped tight again—drawing them back into another kiss, deeper, needier, like neither of them could bear the space that had briefly opened.

Stanley’s thoughts were a tangled storm. He needed clarity, direction—but Lilac was the only calm in that chaos. Her presence soothed something raw inside him, something he’d long forgotten how to name.

There were questions—so many things left unanswered. But for now, after everything he’d just discovered, all Stanley needed was solace. And Lilac gave it to him without hesitation.

Only when the thundering in his chest quieted did he finally pull back, breathless.

They sat there in the silence, panting, their faces flushed from the heat they’d created. The storm inside the car had calmed, but the pull between them still lingered—tangible, electric.

Neither spoke.

They simply looked at each other, and in that look, there was understanding. Something deep. Something unspoken.

“We need to head somewhere,” Stanley said at last, his voice low, slightly hoarse as it cut through the silence.

Lilac glanced past him out the window. “It’s still raining. We should wait until it slows down,” she said softly.

Stanley nodded wordlessly, leaning back in his seat. The quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it was thoughtful, almost grounding.

Lilac kept her eyes on him, reading every flicker of emotion across his face. It wasn’t his silence that bothered her—it was the weight he always tried to carry alone.

“Where are we going?” she asked gently.

Stanley’s jaw tightened. Not because he didn’t want to tell her—she was coming with him, after all—but because the destination tugged at a bittersweet thread he’d left untouched for years.

“My home. Back in Fintown,” he said, each word tasting like rust on his tongue.

Lilac blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly masked her surprise and gave a small nod.

She’d never thought Stanley would want to return there—especially not after everything. That place had been demolished, the land sold off to someone else. There was nothing left.

“Wondering why we’re even going there?” he asked, his voice dipping into something quieter, more intuitive.

Her startled expression was enough of an answer.

“I thought I masked it well,” she muttered with a small laugh, scratching the back of her head.

A faint smile tugged at Stanley’s lips. He reached out and gently ruffled her hair. “You forget, I know you too well, Lilac.”

Her chest fluttered at the tenderness in his tone, the way his fingers lingered like he didn’t want to let go.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he said, eyes locking with hers. “That place doesn’t haunt me anymore. But the answers we’re going to find there… they’ll change everything. Maybe not fix it, but they’ll give us clarity.”

Lilac’s brows furrowed. She wanted to ask what he meant, but before she could, Stanley turned away and looked out the window again, signaling the conversation had reached its limit for now.

Eventually, the rain softened to a drizzle.

Without another word, Stanley started the engine and pulled the car back onto the road, leaving the past behind—only to drive straight into it once more.

***

After Kalix left the house, Winter decided she’d drive to the office alone. She needed the space—to think, to breathe, to feel in control again.

She had just stepped into her room to grab her blazer when a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. A staff member informed her that Eric Spencer had arrived.

Winter’s brows furrowed. For a moment, she was caught off guard—until she remembered the decision Kalix had made without her input.

Of course Eric would come now. Kalix had already set the wheels in motion.

With a practiced breath and a face void of emotion, Winter straightened her shoulders, adjusted her blouse, and made her way to the meeting room.

The moment she walked in poised, polished, and every inch the woman in charge Eric’s composure faltered.

He stood near the long glass table, dressed sharply, his demeanor cool and confident. But the second his eyes met Winter’s, he couldn’t look away.

Gone was the girl he once knew. In her place stood a woman who didn’t flinch, who didn’t hesitate. Whose beauty was only rivaled by the cold precision in her gaze.

And Eric, despite all his attempts to remain professional, failed to hide the way his eyes lingered on her.

Winter approached the table, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She didn’t rush, didn’t speak. Her presence alone commanded the room.

Eric cleared his throat and straightened his suit jacket, trying to regain the upper hand. “Winter,” he greeted, his voice smooth—but not as steady as he would’ve liked.

“Mr. Spencer,” she replied coolly, settling into the chair at the head of the table. Her tone was crisp, detached. The title was intentional—she wasn’t going to play into whatever familiarity he hoped to lean on.

A flicker of something passed over Eric’s face. Disappointment, maybe. Or irritation. But he quickly masked it with a smile. “I assumed Kalix would be here for the meeting.”

“He had other matters to attend to,” Winter replied evenly, folding her hands atop the table. “I’m more than capable of handling this myself.”

“Of course,” Eric said, leaning back slightly. “I never doubted that.”

A beat passed, thick with unsaid things.

Winter tilted her head. “Then let’s get to the point, shall we? You’re here because of the merger proposal Kalix arranged.”

Eric nodded, eyes still studying her more than he should’ve. “Yes. Though I have to admit, I didn’t expect to be sitting across from you again so soon.”

Winter didn’t flinch. “Business moves fast. Personal history doesn’t factor into that.”

Eric smirked faintly, as if her answer amused him.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Shall we get to the point, then?”

He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, placing a file neatly on the table. His demeanor shifted—more formal, more guarded. “I’d like you to review the proposed revisions. There are a few structural changes needed now that the merger is moving forward.”

Winter raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she accepted the file. She flipped it open with practiced ease, scanning the contents—her expression unreadable. Then, a soft, sardonic chuckle escaped her lips.

“I have to admit, I thought your company was on the verge of collapse,” she said without looking up. “But here you are—still offering recommendations. That’s… impressive.”

Eric didn’t flinch. “Our numbers might have taken a hit, but our backbone hasn’t. We still bring value to this table.”

Winter finally looked up, her gaze sharp. “Naturally. I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone who’s always known how to find profit—no matter the cost.”

There was no mistaking the double meaning in her words.

Eric’s jaw ticked slightly, but he kept his voice even. “Profit isn’t the enemy, Winter. It’s survival.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs slowly, deliberately. “Depends on what you’re willing to trade for it.”

Another silence stretched between them, heavy with old wounds and current alliances.

Eric broke eye contact first, glancing down at the papers. “This isn’t about the past. This is about growth—for both companies. We can help each other if we stay focused.”

Winter gave a slow nod, lips curling into a cool smile. “Then I suggest you stay focused, Mr. Spencer. Let’s not confuse necessity with partnership.”

The air between them sharpened.

“It’s not in our hands. The decision was made by higher authorities. I’m simply following orders,” Eric said, his tone measured.

“Yes,” Winter replied coolly, “a subordinate who’s quietly rebuilding ties with the very people who left because of the CEO’s incompetence.”

“What are your intentions, Eric?” Winter asked, leaning back, her leg resting over the other like a queen owning a throne.