CHAPTER 211: IS THAT IT?

The sound of tapping broke his reverie—Sam’s cane on the cobblestones. Winn’s head shot up. "What are you doing out here?" Sam asked.

"Waiting for Jasper," Winn replied curtly.

"Is that it? I didn’t take you to be a quitter, Winn Kane."

"What do you mean?" Winn asked.

"You stood up to me this morning and told me exactly how you feel about her," Sam said, leaning slightly on his cane. "You told me exactly how you plan on defying me to get her back. Is this how you plan to do it? By sitting back like a big cry baby?"

"I don’t deserve her," Winn said.

"No, you don’t. Not like this, you don’t," Sam stepped closer.

"I have always heard about you since you established House of Kane," he continued, his eyes assessing Winn as if reading a ledger of his soul.

"And I must say, I judged you based on your father’s character. If you’re offended, I don’t care. But when I met you this morning, I saw something amazing in you. You have more of your grandfather in you than your father."

Winn considered telling Sam the truth: the man everyone called his father wasn’t actually his. Some things weren’t ready to be revealed. He nodded instead, swallowing the urge to correct him.

"The only thing worth fighting for in this life," Sam went on, "is love, young man. And you don’t do that by wallowing in self-pity." With that, he tapped his cane one last time on the pathway and walked away, leaving Winn in the stillness of the night.

Winn stood for a moment longer, absorbing the weight of what had just transpired. Was Sam Everest tacitly giving him permission to chase his granddaughter?

A flicker of determination ignited in him. If Ivy’s heart had room for him at all, he wasn’t going to let indecision steal it away. If Sam had even hinted that he could try, Winn would seize it.

Winn headed into the dining room. He slid into the empty seat beside Ivy. Jasper was in the corner battling a few chicken thighs.

"I thought you weren’t coming," Ivy said.

"I needed a bit of a talking to," Winn answered. He tilted his head toward Sam, who was deep in conversation with Eugene about market trends and potential investor challenges. "Remember that thing I just said about being wrong?"

"Yes?" Ivy replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Fuck that shit!" Winn barked lightly. He caught her soft sigh and grinned.

The chef brought over the first plates. Conversation flowed easier than he expected.

They talked about the Kane-Everest joint venture for the new mall, discussing its progress, the buzz it had created in the city, and the expectations hanging over its grand opening.

Winn found himself genuinely enjoying the discussion, the stress of the day dissolving into the warm, lively atmosphere of the room.

Even Eugene proved to be surprisingly engaging, though Winn’s irritation flickered every time the man winked at Ivy or offered a subtly flirtatious smile.

Truthfully, Winn had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Eugene was brilliant. He managed to combine charm and intellect in a way that Winn could respect. Meanwhile, Ivy laughed at small jokes, her hand occasionally brushing against his.

Each touch sent a familiar current through him, making him painfully aware of how much he wanted to close the gap between them, to have her entirely.

After dinner, the group lingered at the table, the room now perfumed with the scent of freshly brewed tea and Sam’s hearty fruit salad. Sam leaned back in his chair, recounting stories from one of his legendary business conquests.

The table erupted into laughter more than once.

Ivy was used to dinner at the Everest home being story time with Gramps, a comforting ritual filled with laughter, lessons from decades of business conquests. Eugene was genuinely intrigued by Sam’s stories.

She was just about to change the subject when she felt the ghost of Winn’s fingers brushing against her thigh under the table. Her body stiffened instinctively. She swallowed, keeping her composure.

Her fingers twitched beneath the table as she debated moving his hand, but before she could act, Winn captured her fingers and, with an audacious boldness that made her heart hammer, placed them on his cock.

Ivy’s eyes went wide in panic and surprise, and she jerked her hand back instinctively. She quickly replaced her hands on the table.

Winn continued to hover in that dangerous space. He listened intently to Sam, chiming in occasionally, all while his fingers traced invisible trails of fire up her thighs.

Then his hand traveled further, slipping between her thighs, his thumb skimming over the fabric of her underwear. Ivy’s mind raced but her body betrayed her, arching subtly toward his touch.

Finally, when Winn slid her underwear aside and grazed her clit, the world seemed to condense into that single point of fire. A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped her lips.

Heads turned—Eugene’s curious, Sam’s slightly concerned, Winn’s intensely focused, watching her reaction. "Are you alright?" Winn asked, acting entirely innocent.

Ivy’s gaze darted around the dining table. "I just remembered an assignment," she said quickly. "Carry on, Gramps."

She was drenched in a slick sheen of sweat, her breath ragged as she subtly adjusted in her seat, her thighs clinging together in desperate, futile restraint. Her fingers fumbled for the bottle of water nearby, just to distract herself.

Her body quivered, heat pooling in a place she couldn’t control, and in a moment of impulsive desperation, she snatched an apple from the fruit platter and bit into it hard, the sharp crunch muffling the involuntary moans that threatened to escape her lips.

Winn, meanwhile, was a master of deception and control. He never broke his composed exterior, keeping the conversation flowing seamlessly with Sam and Eugene.

Yet beneath that calm, his fingers continued their merciless teasing, sliding and stroking. Every so often, Ivy’s gasps, muffled by the apple, made him smirk subtly.

The thrill of holding her on the edge in plain view of another man—the so-called "Mr. Younger" who believed he had a chance—was intoxicating.