Page 10

Ten

Belle

“Belle?”

I freeze—mid tuck of my purse over my shoulder—at the sound of my boss, Jace Henderson’s, voice. “Yes?”

“Can you come in here a second?”

My throat gets tight.

Because that question…it sounds angry.

Have I fucked something up?

What if Jace doesn’t want me here any longer? What if he’s found someone better? Someone more qualified? Someone with a college degree and years and years of experience?

Panic slices through my middle.

Quinn. Oh God, how will I take care of Quinn?

But just as quickly as that panic comes on, it dissipates. Because I remember…I’m not alone.

I’m not alone.

Whatever is coming, I don’t have to face it alone.

Holding those words tight, I lift my chin, shore up my spine, and walk into Jace’s office. He owns a conglomeration of media companies in the Bay Area—and abroad—and is a very powerful man.

One who took a chance on me.

One who gave me time off when Quinn was sick.

One who?—

“Belle?”

I jump, stop staying stuck in my head, and focus on Jace.

He’s holding a sheaf of papers…and yup, he’s pissed.

“What the fuck is this?” he snaps, tossing them on the desk.

Hesitantly, I shuffle closer, eyes going to the papers…and then shooting up to connect with his.

“You didn’t tell me the insurance company was fucking you and Quinn over,” he growls, tossing another stack onto the desktop. “And you didn’t tell me that you two were fucking homeless.”

“I—”

“What the fuck, Belle?” he snaps. “You’re my assistant, yes, but you’re a whole lot more. You’re a person I care about, and you got evicted because you couldn’t pay bills for your son’s hospital stay. Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—”

“I’m a goddamned billionaire!” He slams his fist next to the papers, sending them fluttering through the air. “Did you ever think that maybe I could help?”

“I—”

He drops his palms to the desk, pushes up to his feet, voice calming, though it’s still liberally laced with ice. “Did you ever stop to think I would want to help? I care about you and Quinn.”

“I—” I begin again. Then pause, half expecting him to interrupt me for the umpteenth time. When he doesn’t, I say, “It wasn’t your problem.”

Which is the wrong thing to say.

His scowl deepens to insane proportions. “Not my problem,” he grits out, shoving a hand through his hair, mussing the locks in a sure sign that he’s about to lose it. “Not my problem?”

“I—” I bite back my excuses and sigh. “Look,” I say carefully. “I didn’t think it was anyone’s problem but mine. And I was too stubborn to recognize that I didn’t have to do it all on my own.” An exhale. “But I’ve learned—or am learning that I don’t need to do it that way, that I have people who’ll take my back, and”—I reach over and squeeze his arm—“I’m also lucky enough to have a boss who cares about me.”

The anger bleeds out of his face. “You do,” he says gently before his eyes fill with warning. “And you also have a boss who won’t take no when it comes to giving you this.”

He passes me an envelope and when I open the top, pull out the papers, my heart convulses.

“Jace,” I murmur.

“Don’t argue with me today,” he grumbles. “And don’t say no. Just…consider it and know that you’ll have to come up with a damned good argument to get me to back off about it.”

I open my mouth, but he just snags his jacket and phone, glares at me and semi-repeats, “A damned good one.”

And then he’s sweeping from the room in a cloud of grumpy, billionaire yumminess.

I stare after him for a couple of seconds then shake my head and know that, as dire as things were, what I told Jace is correct.

I’m not alone.

I just didn’t understand that was always the case.

But the medical bills—now paid—and the apartment in Quinn’s school district funded by Jace’s company are proof of that.

Just as much as West opening his house and kissing me gently and teaching Quinn how to skate is even more so.

We’re not alone.

Smiling, I shove the papers into my purse and hurry out of the office.

I have a sleepover to drop Quinn off at.

And…I have a man to get home to.

I’m thinking of all the things I want to tell West the entire drive to Quinn’s sleepover.

How I’m finally understanding, finally accepting, finally open to more from my future. How I want him to know that I want to know what a good relationship can be like, to know how it feels to not have to struggle and do it all alone.

And that’s thanks to him.

So, I spend the drive back to the house pondering and planning and rehearsing my speech, wanting West to know exactly how much all of this has meant to me.

But then I walk into the kitchen.

And I smell what he’s cooking.

And that plan slips right out of my head.

Because tonight he’s cooking my favorite meal.

And he’s turning and smiling at me, putting the spoon he’s using to stir the potato and leek soup down onto a folded paper towel then moving across the room. “Hey, Bella bee,” he murmurs, reaching for me, brushing his lips over my forehead before slipping his fingers beneath the strap of my purse and tugging it down my arm.

Or part of the way, anyway.

Because it’s barely reached my elbow when all the love in my belly explodes outward—not in words, but in action.

I launch myself into his arms, lift my mouth to his…

And kiss him with everything I’m feeling so brightly in my heart.