Chapter 5 - The Offer Clare Couldn’t RefuseThree weeks after surviving dinner with the extended Ashford family, Clare received the biggest professional opportunity of her life.
It arrived disguised as an ordinary email.
She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her studio, surrounded by material samples, paint swatches, and enough coffee cups to embarrass a responsible adult when Mia made a strange choking sound from behind her desk.
“Clare.”
Clare continued comparing two pieces of textured fabric.
“Hmm?”
“Clare.”
“Unless the building is burning, give me five minutes.”
“I think Paris just emailed you.”
Clare looked up.
“What?”
Mia slowly turned her laptop around.
On the screen was an email from Maison Beaumont, one of Europe’s most influential luxury hospitality groups.
Clare stood so quickly she knocked over three sample books.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I’m literally looking at it.”
Clare rushed across the room.
Maison Beaumont was renovating a nineteenth-century hotel near the Seine and looking for an independent designer to lead several signature interiors and art installations.
They had seen Clare’s recent exhibition.
They wanted a meeting.
In Paris.
Her hands began shaking.
“Mia.”
“I know.”
“Mia.”
“I know!”
They screamed.
For thirty seconds, they behaved like teenagers who had just been invited backstage at a concert.
Then Clare stopped.
Paris.
Six months.
Maybe longer.
Mia immediately noticed the change.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That face is not nothing.”
Clare stared at the email.
Theo.
They had been together for nearly seven months. Their relationship had finally settled into something real, steady, intimate.
He spent half his nights at her apartment.
She had a drawer at his.
His expensive shirts had somehow begun appearing between her normal clothes.
He knew which side of the bed she preferred.
She knew that despite commanding billion-dollar negotiations without blinking, Theo became irrationally irritated when someone ate the last chocolate cookie.
They were building something.
And Paris could change everything.
Mia leaned against the desk.
“You’re thinking about him.”
“I’m thinking about logistics.”
“You’re thinking about your gorgeous billionaire boyfriend who came back after nine years and finally confessed he loves you.”
“That is part of logistics.”
“Clare.”
She sighed.
“Yes.”
Mia crossed her arms.
“If you turn down Maison Beaumont because of a man, I will personally drag you onto the plane.”
“I’m not turning it down.”
“Good.”
“I’m just going to the meeting.”
“Better.”
Clare stared again at the invitation.
Paris.
The dream was exhilarating.
And terrifying.
She waited until that evening to tell Theo.
He arrived at her apartment carrying Thai food because Clare had mentioned craving it during a morning text.
He immediately noticed something was wrong.
“What happened?”
“Why do you always assume something happened?”
“Because you’re holding wine and you haven’t even taken the food from me.”
Clare accepted the bag.
“Sit.”
Theo’s expression became concerned.
“Those are never good words.”
They sat on the couch.
Clare handed him her phone with the email open.
He read it.
She watched every tiny movement of his face.
Surprise first.
Then understanding.
Then something carefully hidden.
He looked up.
“This is huge.”
“Yes.”
“Maison Beaumont?”
“Yes.”
“They’re one of the biggest hospitality groups in Europe.”
“I know.”
His smile appeared.
“You did it.”
Clare blinked.
“What?”
“You wanted international projects. You talked about that when we were at Luigi’s.”
He handed the phone back.
“You did it.”
Then he pulled her into his arms.
Relief flooded Clare so intensely she nearly laughed.
“You’re happy?”
“Of course I’m happy.”
He kissed her hair.
“I’m ridiculously proud of you.”
The tension in her shoulders loosened.
“There’s one complication.”
Theo pulled back.
“How long?”
“Potentially six months.”
There it was.
His expression barely changed.
But Clare knew him now.
She saw it.
“Say something.”
He leaned back against the couch.
“Six months is a long time.”
“Yes.”
“When would you leave?”
“If I get it, probably in about seven weeks.”
Theo looked toward the window.
Clare waited.
Finally he asked, “Do you want it?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
That mattered.
Theo nodded slowly.
“Then you should do it.”
Clare stared at him.
“That’s it?”
“What else would I say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t go?”
“Maybe.”
Theo looked almost offended.
“You think I’d ask you to give up the biggest opportunity of your career?”
“I don’t know what I thought.”
He took her hand.
“Clare, I love you. I’m not interested in making your world smaller so mine stays comfortable.”
The sentence settled inside her.
Warm.
Safe.
Dangerous in the best possible way.
“But,” he added.
She immediately narrowed her eyes.
“There’s the Theodore part.”
“I can fly to Paris.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You have a company to run.”
“I own several planes.”
“That is the most billionaire response imaginable.”
“I’m being practical.”
“You cannot commute internationally every weekend.”
“Watch me.”
Clare laughed.
Theo pulled her onto his lap.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“You say that now.”
“I mean it now.”
“What happens when you miss me?”
“I’ll suffer beautifully.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“What happens when I miss you?”
“I’ll fly over.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I have resources.”
She kissed him.
For the next month, everything moved quickly.
Clare flew to Paris for the presentation.
She returned with the contract.
Maison Beaumont selected her.
Her parents threw a celebratory dinner.
Owen proudly told everyone who would listen that his sister had become internationally important and he expected free hotel rooms for life.
Theo gave Clare a gift.
Not jewelry.
Not something expensive.
A leather sketchbook embossed with her initials.
Inside the cover, he had written one sentence.
For everything you’re going to create next.
Clare cried.
Theo pretended he had not expected her to.
Then departure day arrived.
At the airport, Clare felt brave until her suitcase disappeared at check-in.
Suddenly the reality became overwhelming.
Six months.
A different country.
A different time zone.
Theo stood beside her, unusually quiet.
“You can still come with me for the first weekend,” Clare offered.
“I have the Singapore acquisition meeting tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“I’ll come next week.”
“You have board meetings.”
“I’ll come the week after.”
She smiled sadly.
“Theo.”
He took both her hands.
“I don’t like this.”
Honesty.
Clare appreciated it.
“I don’t either.”
“I want you to go because this matters to you. But every selfish part of me wants to put you in the car and take you home.”
She laughed through sudden tears.
“Very romantic kidnapping.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
He wiped beneath her eye.
“Six months.”
“Six months.”
“You’ll call?”
“Every day.”
“Video?”
“Yes.”
“Messages?”
“Constantly.”
“If some French architect falls in love with you—”
Clare laughed.
“Theodore.”
“I’m setting expectations.”
“If some elegant Parisian woman falls in love with you while I’m gone?”
“She’ll be disappointed.”
“That confident?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her.
Not dramatically.
Not like the movies.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like he was memorizing her.
When they separated, Clare touched his cheek.
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Competitive even now?”
“Always.”
Her flight was called.
Clare stepped backward.
Theo kept holding her hand until their fingers finally separated.
She turned before she could lose the courage to leave.
On the plane, she cried quietly for the first twenty minutes.
Then she opened the leather sketchbook.
For everything you’re going to create next.
She smiled.
Paris was everything Clare dreamed it would be.
The project was massive, complicated, chaotic, inspiring.
Her temporary apartment overlooked a narrow street lined with cafés.
Her mornings began with design meetings.
Her afternoons disappeared inside the historic hotel.
Her nights often stretched past midnight while she reviewed drawings.
Theo called every evening.
At first, it worked beautifully.
He visited after two weeks.
They spent forty-eight hours walking beside the Seine, eating ridiculous pastries, and pretending they were ordinary people with ordinary schedules.
Then life became harder.
A major problem emerged at Ashford Industries.
Theo canceled his next visit.
Clare understood.
Then a contractor delayed part of the Beaumont renovation.
Clare missed their planned weekend in London.
Theo understood.
Weeks became two months.
Their calls grew shorter.
Not because love disappeared.
Because exhaustion arrived.
One evening Clare called at midnight Paris time.
Theo answered from his office.
“You’re still working?”
“So are you.”
“Different.”
“How?”
“You need sleep.”
“So do you.”
He rubbed his face.
Clare smiled at the screen.
“You look terrible.”
“You’re very romantic.”
“I learned from you.”
There was a knock on Clare’s apartment door.
She looked toward it.
“At midnight?”
“It’s probably Adrian.”
Theo went still.
“Who is Adrian?”
Clare immediately recognized the tone.
“Oh, no.”
“Who is Adrian?”
“My project architect.”
“At your apartment at midnight?”
“He has revised floor plans.”
“I dislike him.”
“You haven’t met him.”
“I dislike him efficiently.”
Clare laughed.
The knocking came again.
“I need to get that.”
Theo’s expression remained suspicious.
“Call me after.”
“It’ll be late.”
“I’ll be awake.”
“Theo.”
“Fine. Tomorrow.”
She blew him a kiss.
“Love you.”
His expression softened.
“Love you.”
Clare opened the door.
Adrian Moreau stood outside carrying drawings and two coffees.
“I bring caffeine and bad news.”
“Perfect.”
Three hours later, Clare finally went to bed.
She forgot to text Theo.
The next morning, her phone contained four messages.
11:57 PM: How bad are the revisions?
12:42 AM: Still working?
1:30 AM: Goodnight, beautiful.
7:14 AM: Call me when you wake up.
Guilt twisted inside her.
She called immediately.
Theo answered while walking through what appeared to be an airport.
“Morning.”
“Where are you?”
“Chicago.”
“You were in New York yesterday.”
“I came back.”
“You look exhausted.”
“So do you.”
She smiled.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
“It’s okay.”
But his voice was different.
Quiet.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Theodore.”
He stopped walking.
People moved around him.
Finally he said, “I miss you.”
The vulnerability surprised her.
“I miss you too.”
“No. I really miss you.”
Her chest tightened.
“We have four months left.”
“I know.”
“We can do four months.”
Theo looked into the camera.
“We can.”
But something in his eyes scared her.
The next problem arrived two weeks later.
A photograph appeared online.
Clare and Adrian stood outside the hotel laughing in the rain beneath one umbrella.
The headline called him Clare Montgomery’s “mystery Paris companion.”
It was absurd.
Clare laughed when Mia sent it.
Theo did not.
He called five minutes later.
“That article is ridiculous,” Clare said immediately.
“I know.”
“You sound angry.”
“At them.”
“Not at me?”
“No.”
She relaxed.
Then he added, “Why was he holding your waist?”
Clare reopened the photo.
Adrian’s hand was near her lower back because he had been preventing her from stepping into traffic.
“Theo.”
“I’m asking.”
“He stopped me from walking in front of a bike.”
Silence.
“You believe me, right?”
“Of course.”
Another silence.
Clare’s heart sank.
“Theodore.”
“I said I believe you.”
“But you’re jealous.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I trust you. I don’t trust him.”
“He has a boyfriend.”
Theo blinked.
“What?”
“Adrian is dating a pastry chef named Julien. They’ve been together four years.”
Theo stared.
Clare began laughing.
His expression became deeply offended.
“You could have mentioned that earlier.”
“You never asked.”
“I spent six weeks disliking a man who isn’t even interested in women?”
“Yes.”
Theo closed his eyes.
Clare laughed harder.
“You’re horrible.”
“You deserve this.”
His smile finally appeared.
For several days, everything seemed normal again.
Then Clare received a message from Caroline Ashford.
Aunt Caroline.
Clare almost ignored it.
Then curiosity won.
There was a link to an American business magazine.
The headline read:
ASHFORD HEIR’S EUROPEAN DISTRACTION: IS THEODORE’S ROMANCE COSTING THE COMPANY?
Clare’s smile disappeared.
The article blamed Theo’s frequent trips to Europe and “emotional preoccupation” for delays in several corporate decisions.
It implied board members were concerned.
It implied Clare was a liability.
Clare read it twice.
Then a third time.
That night Theo called.
She watched him speak about his day.
She said nothing about the article.
For three days, she said nothing.
Then Theo canceled another major investor dinner because he planned to fly to Paris for her project preview.
Clare finally snapped.
“You can’t come.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Stay in Chicago.”
“I already rearranged everything.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
“What problem?”
“You keep rearranging everything around me.”
“Because you’re important to me.”
“And your company?”
“My company is fine.”
“Is it?”
He went silent.
Clare held up the article on her tablet.
His expression hardened instantly.
“Caroline sent you that?”
“Is it true?”
“It’s gossip.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Theo stood from his desk.
“I have missed meetings before.”
“For me?”
“Sometimes.”
“Have you delayed decisions because you were traveling to see me?”
He did not answer.
Clare’s stomach sank.
“Theo.”
“I’m CEO. I decide my schedule.”
“That’s not an answer.”
His frustration surfaced.
“What do you want me to say? Yes, I moved some meetings. Yes, I flew to Paris when I probably should have stayed in Chicago. Because I love you and I wanted to see you.”
“And now people think I’m interfering with your company.”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“I do!”
The words echoed through her small apartment.
Theo became still.
Clare stood too.
“I spent years building my own career. I don’t want to become the woman everyone blames when Theodore Ashford gets distracted.”
“You’re not responsible for my decisions.”
“Then stop making irresponsible decisions because of me.”
His face changed.
“That’s unfair.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“I never asked you to fly here every time you missed me.”
“I know.”
“I never asked you to cancel meetings.”
“I know.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because relationships require effort!”
“So does running Ashford Industries!”
The silence afterward was brutal.
Theo stared at her through the screen.
Clare immediately regretted shouting.
But not the meaning behind it.
Finally Theo spoke quietly.
“What are you actually afraid of?”
She looked away.
“Nothing.”
“Clare.”
“I’m afraid of disappearing inside your life.”
The truth came out before she could stop it.
Theo’s expression changed.
“I spent my childhood being Owen’s little sister. Then I spent years being the girl who loved Theodore Ashford.”
Her voice trembled.
“I finally became Clare Montgomery. I built something that belonged only to me.”
“You think I want to take that from you?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I think loving you is so big that sometimes everything else gets pulled into your gravity.”
Theo said nothing.
Clare wiped a tear angrily.
“And I’m afraid one day people won’t see my work anymore. They’ll just see your girlfriend. Your wife. The woman Theodore Ashford chose.”
His voice became very quiet.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the worst answer.
Because it was honest.
Theo looked devastated.
“We survived nine years apart.”
Clare’s chest hurt.
“That doesn’t mean distance is easy.”
“No.”
“And loving each other doesn’t automatically mean we know how to build a life together.”
“No.”
They stared at each other across thousands of miles.
Neither knew how to solve it.
Finally Theo whispered, “Should I still come this weekend?”
Clare wanted to say yes.
Every part of her wanted him beside her.
Instead she forced herself to say, “No.”
Pain passed through his eyes.
“Okay.”
“Theo—”
“I understand.”
But he did not look like he understood.
He looked hurt.
“Goodnight, Clare.”
“Theo.”
“I love you.”
She swallowed.
“I love you too.”
The call ended.
Clare stared at the black screen.
Then she sat alone in her beautiful Paris apartment and cried.
Because for the first time since choosing Theodore Ashford, she understood something terrifying.
May you like
Love had brought them together.
But love alone might not be enough to teach them how to stay.
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