Page 23 of The Billionaire Alpha's Assistant

Alex’s eyebrows shoot up. Clearly, that wasn’t what she was expecting me to say.

“He was betrayed by his best friend — the one person he trusted most.”

“That must have been horrible,” Alex whispers. “For all of you.”

“It was,” I agree. “But it was the worst for my mom. My dad didn’t have any life insurance, so after he died, things got really bad.” I swallow. “Elena was too young to know what was going on. Mom never talked about money with us kids, but I knew . . .”

For a moment, I hesitate. I’ve never told anybody this story before. Jake and I grew up together, so he knows about the snow cream, but his family was even worse off than mine was, so it was never a thing.

Telling Alex feels like a big step. It feels as though there’s no going back, and for some reason, I’m okay with that.

“The Thanksgiving after he was killed, things were really bad. My mom’s hours had been cut, and there wasn’t money for a turkey or anything like that. She went by the food bank after work, and when she came home, I could tell she’d been crying. The next day was Thanksgiving — our first one without my dad.”

A sympathetic crease cracks Alex’s forehead, but she doesn’t say a word.

“My mother tried to put on a brave face for us kids, but I could tell it was really hard for her. Elena kept whining that she wanted pumpkin pie and ice cream. I think she just missed my dad. I knew there wasn’t going to be pumpkin pie or ice cream, and my mother was having a really hard time. So I went out and scraped some snow off the car. I poured some sweetened condensed milk over the snow and told Elena it was ice cream. That’s why she thinks snow cream is a Thanksgiving tradition —because we were too poor for anything else.”

It takes me a long time to look Alex in the eye after I finish my story. As an alpha, it’s not in my nature to drop my gaze, but part of me can’t believe I just bared my soul to this woman.

When I finally look up, I’m stunned to see that Alex isn’t staring at me with pity. Her expression is open — her eyes warm. The way she’s looking at me sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t deserve that look.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I shake my head.

“You’re a good brother. And a good son.”

I scoff.

“I’m serious,” she murmurs, taking a step toward me. “Because of what you did, Elena doesn’t remember that Thanksgiving as a sad day. She only has good memories because her big brother made them good.”

My throat feels like sandpaper, but I force myself to swallow. Snow is falling softly all around us, clinging to Alex’s dark lashes. One heavy flake lands on her cheek, and I reach out to brush it away before I have a chance to stop myself.

Alex quickly sucks in a breath, and I realize I’m standing less than a foot away. Her lips are plump and flushed from the cold, and she smells like chocolate, caramel, and pumpkin.

I long to close the distance between us and see if she tastes as good as she smells. Alex’s lips part gently, and I wonder if she knows what I’m thinking.

Keeping my thumb on her cheek, I lean forward and close my eyes. But my sister’s voice rings out from the kitchen, and the two of us spring apart like magnets.

“Raf, where’s my snow cream?”

I take a deep breath and clear my throat. My hand stings from the loss of Alex’s warmth, and I absently scratch the back of my head.

What the hell am I doing? Alex is my assistant and basically a stranger. And yet I just shared one of my most intimate memories with her — and I almost kissed her.

As much as I might want to, I know I can’t cross that line. Once I do, there’s no going back. I won’t be able to stop until I’ve claimed her.

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