Page 60 of Tempted By the Bosshole

I blow out a breath, then let everything out. “Before I met you, all I wanted was revenge. I was unhappy. I was angry that I was unhappy. I blamed Julia and your father for stealing the future I saw for myself. So I schemed and plotted—something I’m good at. I studied you—on paper, anyway. I knew your age, your face, your alma mater, your friends. But I didn’t know you. You threw me a curveball I never saw coming. Your kindness, your passion, your spirit… I never thought I’d fall for you, much less fall head over heels. You made me see that what I really wanted was a second chance at love and family, and that I needed to let go of revenge and simply love you.”

“Nathan…” She sobs behind her hand. “Don’t?—”

“Just let me finish. Everything I did was wrong. I seduced you. I threatened you. I coerced you. Then I married you against your will. I should have dated you, let you get to know me, then took you to bed and to the altar when you were ready and with me every step of the way. But nothing went as planned. You showed me your vulnerable side almost from the start, and it humanized you in a way I hadn’t counted on. As I got to know you…I realized I not only need you in my life, I need to be more like you. Warm. Thoughtful. Forgiving.

“By the time we got married, I suspected I was saying ‘I do’ not because it was part of my plan, but because I couldn’t imagine living another day without you. I tried to force a family on you for the same reason. I’m truly sorry. I can’t turn back time and change what happened, but I can promise you a few things. The evidence I captured of you breaking into my old place? It’s yours. Keep it. Destroy it. Whatever you want. I won’t have copies or backups, so I’ll have nothing to hold over your head.”

“Thank you.”

“Second, I ask that you give me a chance to earn your love. My heart is yours. I mean that. I don’t need revenge. I need you.” I swallow hard. “I love you.”

Isabella gives me a shaky nod, then sets her coffee aside. “Anything else?”

Am I changing her mind at all? Her face gives zero clues. I want to gift her with a thousand ardent, heartfelt words and arrange them into the most beautiful sonnet or love song—whichever would melt the walls around her heart—and give them to her, wrapped in a pretty pink bow. But I’m not good at any of that. I was built for combat. I understand war. I’m no poet, and I can’t sing for shit. I’d probably just scare her away. Instead, I hope that my honesty and the fact I’m a fucking mess without her will sway her to give me another chance.

If she does, I won’t waste a second, and I’ll take nothing for granted.

If she doesn’t…I have no one to blame but myself.

“Unless you have questions, no. What happens next is purely up to you.”

She nods. “I appreciate that. I know giving up control is hard for you.”

“As fuck.”

She smiles faintly before her expression slowly sobers. “I spent all night thinking. Of where I’ve come from, where I’m going, and where I want to be. I thought hard about my conversation with my dad. I’m at a fork in the road.”

Her words squeeze my heart. She could so easily choose the path without me… “Isabella, I?—”

“No.” She holds up a hand. “You said what you need to. Now let me finish. I sat up with Jen’s cat in my lap—Dude trapped me in a recliner for hours—and I thought through all my potential futures. Then I asked what would truly make me happy. Finally, I boiled down what upset me so much about that picture you sent. And I realized something. All my life, I’ve tried to be enough for the men around me. I wasn’t enough for my dad, and if he and I are going to resume any kind of relationship, we’ll have to work through that. God knows I wasn’t enough for Eric, and I can never be with someone who will manipulate, lie, and disrespect me again.”

Shit. “Isabella… Baby girl?—”

“Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. As hard as it is, I have to shut the fuck up and let her speak. After everything I’ve done, it’s the very least I owe her. “Absolutely. Go on.”

If she refuses me, I’ll find out what she needs and give it to her until she finally says yes again.

“Answer one question for me.”

“Anything.”

“Am I enough for you?”

“Yes. Yes! I love you, exactly as you are. When we’re together, I’m not only a happier man, I’m a better man. Before you, I wouldn’t have felt a shred of compassion for Julia and Doug’s infertility. I wouldn’t have given a shit about anything except making them suffer. You changed me. You’re my everything.”

She sniffles. “After the way our marriage started, I don’t know how to believe that I’ll be enough for you.”

“You are. You always will be.” But I’ve said that. She needs to hear more. “How about I make you this promise? Every day, I’ll do my best to prove how much you mean to me—for the rest of my life. I’ll never stop. Ever. Even when you know you’re not only enough, but my whole world.”

Slowly, she nods, tears falling. Fists clenched, I hold my breath, wondering what the hell she’s thinking. What she’s deciding. My heart thuds. My palms sweat. I want to touch her, demand answers, make her promise she’ll give me another shot.

I can’t.

“Last night, I realized that I’ve always held back, been nice, and failed to rock the boat because I believed I wasn’t enough. I know better now. I need you to know it, too.”

Would my opinion matter if she didn’t see a future for us? “Absolutely. One hundred percent.”

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