Chapter 222: The Weekend
Friday morning light filled the driveway as Franz helped the twins into the backseat. Leo sat quietly, lion keychain turning slowly between his fingers. Lily kept up a steady stream of conversation—school stories, Kyle’s drawings, why red ties were clearly superior. Franz answered lightly, but his thoughts were already turning toward the quiet estate waiting for him.
Two full nights. Just the two of them.
The anticipation sat warm and steady in his chest, making his fingers tap a restless rhythm against the steering wheel during the drive.
At his parents’ estate, Amanda greeted the twins with warm hugs. She gave Franz one long, knowing look—amused, slightly mischievous—but said nothing.
"I’ll pick them up Sunday afternoon," he told her.
Amanda smiled. "Take your time."
He drove away with the radio off and the windows down. The silence felt like possibility.
The estate was too quiet when he returned. He called her name once in the foyer. No answer. The sitting room was empty. The kitchen was empty. He climbed the stairs to the east wing.
Her study door stood open. Arianne sat at her desk, hair pinned up neatly, glasses on, focused on a thick binder. She glanced up when he filled the doorway.
"You’re back fast."
"Traffic was light."
His gaze dropped to the corner of her desk. A neat stack waited—reports, contracts, approval forms. His name already marked on several tabs.
"Since I’m leaving next week," she said evenly, "you need to finish some of this early. You won’t be overwhelmed trying to handle work and the twins at the same time."
Franz stared at the stack. "You planned this."
"I planned for contingencies."
"The twins are gone for two nights."
"I’m aware."
"Two nights, Aria."
She looked at him over the rim of her glasses. "I know what two nights means."
He wasn’t angry. Just quietly disappointed in the particular way a man who had waited years could be. She didn’t apologize. She never did when the logic was sound.
Franz walked into the room, picked up the top report, and flipped through it. "I’ll do these."
"Good."
"On one condition."
She waited.
"You promise you’ll spend the entire weekend with me."
"I’m sitting right here."
"That’s not what I mean. No work calls. No Gio. No ’just one more document.’ The whole weekend."
She studied him. He didn’t look away.
"Define ’the whole weekend.’"
"From now until Sunday night. You’re not leaving this house. And you’re not leaving my side."
A long pause stretched between them.
"That’s inefficient."
"I don’t care."
Another beat.
"Fine."
"Say it."
Her voice came slow and deliberate, the same tone she used when closing important agreements. "I promise I will spend the entire weekend with you."
Franz pulled out the chair across from her and sat. He picked up the first report. "Then let’s get this done."
The day unfolded in quiet efficiency.
At eleven they worked side by side at her desk, elbows nearly brushing. Pages turned. Pens moved. He signed. She reviewed and stamped. The only sounds were paper and steady breathing.
By one they stood at the kitchen counter eating quick sandwiches. Their shoulders touched as they ate in comfortable silence, then returned to the stack.
At two-thirty the work had migrated to the sitting room. Franz stretched on the couch while Arianne claimed the armchair. He read a dense clause aloud. She explained it in one crisp sentence. He nodded and signed.
By four they had moved to his smaller study in the west wing. The desk brought them closer. When Arianne reached across him for a pen, her arm brushed his chest. Neither reacted outwardly, but the air between them felt warmer, more aware.
At five-thirty Franz signed the final page and set the pen down with a quiet click.
"Done."
Arianne checked her watch. "We made good time."
They stood in the hallway, stretching out stiff muscles. She rolled her shoulders. He flexed his writing hand.
"I’m going to shower," she said, already turning toward the east wing.
"Aria."
She stopped.
"You promised."
She turned, one eyebrow raised. "I haven’t left the house."
"That’s not what I meant either."
He walked past her toward the west wing. At his bedroom door he paused and looked back.
"We should shower together. In my room."
She considered it for a moment. "That’s not efficient either."
"I don’t care."
Arianne walked toward him—slow steps. When she reached him she said simply, "Lead the way."
He let her enter the bathroom first, then followed. Late afternoon light filtered softly through the frosted glass. He turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature. Steam began to rise.
Arianne pulled her shirt over her head. Franz undressed more slowly. They stepped under the warm spray together.
He washed her back with steady, soapy hands, thumbs pressing gently into tight muscles. She leaned into his touch. When she turned, she washed his hair, fingers working through the dark strands. He closed his eyes, letting the water rinse over them both.
They stood close under the falling water, foreheads nearly touching. No rush. Just the sound of water and breathing.
"I missed you," he murmured.
"I’m right here."
"I know."
They stayed until the water began to cool, then dried off in easy silence. She slipped into one of his shirts, the hem brushing her thighs. He wore loose sweatpants.
They moved to the bed and lay facing each other, hair still damp, not touching at first—just looking.
"You worked hard today," she said.
"Leo would approve."
She laughed—quiet, genuine.
His hand found her waist under the shirt. Her palm settled over his heart. They kissed slowly, no urgency. Tongues gliding, breaths mingling. She pulled back once.
"We don’t have to."
"I know."
She kissed him again.
As night deepened, familiarity guided every movement. He knew where to touch to draw soft sounds from her. She knew the exact way he liked to be held. They moved together without haste—deep, steady, and unhurried—learning each other through touch rather than words.
When release found them, it came in shared, quiet waves. She whispered his name against his shoulder as pleasure washed through her. He held her close, breathing ragged, until they both stilled.
Afterward they lay with the lights still on. Arianne on her back. Franz on his side, watching her, one hand resting lightly on her hip.
"Still no regret?" he asked softly.
"No."
He pulled her closer. She let him, tucking her head against his chest. She fell asleep first. He stayed awake a little longer, listening to her even breathing, then slept.
Saturday morning light filtered into the room. Arianne woke to find him already awake, propped on one elbow, watching her.
"Stop staring."
"No."
She smiled—small, real—and pulled him down for a short kiss. "We have the whole day."
"We do."
She sat up, reaching for his shirt on the floor. He caught her wrist gently.
"Where are you going?"
"Kitchen. I’m hungry."
"I’ll come with you."
She looked back at him, the smile still lingering. "I know."