Page 30 of He Falls First

As Elizabeth starts packing her things, I glimpse her roommate Allison rounding the corner to see what all the commotion is about. Her arms are crossed, and she’s eyeing me up like I’m some kind of intruder.

“Hey there, big guy,” she says in a sarcastic voice. “What exactly are you planning on doing with my best friend?”

I’m cornered, the movers awkwardly shuffling past us, pretending not to eavesdrop on the domestic interrogation.

Allison continues, “You’re dragging my roommate out of her own home with this ‘engagement’ ruse? What’s your endgame here?”

“Look, I…” I start gruffly, faltering for a second under her glare.

I can’t exactly be mad about this. It’s true that I’m the madman in this situation. And I’m glad Elizabeth has the kind of friends who won’t let her get whisked away without a proper interrogation first.

Inhaling deeply, I let sincerity take the driver’s seat. “I can’t have Elizabeth hurt because of me. Not on my watch. This,” I gesture at the movement around us, “is so she’s safe from any corporate sharks circling around.”

Allison tilts her head, examining my face. Then, her lips curl into a smirk. “Well, damn, you’re serious.” A chuckle escapes her. “Okay, Iron Man, protect away. Just know, I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Understood.”

With that settled, I turn my attention back to Elizabeth and the movers as they carry away her belongings. Each personal item that passes by me—a stack of worn paperbacks, a cozy-looking blanket, a pair of running shoes—reminds me it’s going to be much harder for me to control my attraction to her at my home.

“Meet me at my place when you’re done,” I tell her, already backing away, my voice sounding strangely thick. She nods, a lock of hair falling into her face. It’s taking all my willpower not to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

I stride out, leaving her to finish packing. Alone in the hallway, I have to pause and lean against the wall, closing my eyes briefly. How the hell am I going to resist her when she’s wrapped up in my sheets?

I clench my teeth, pushing off the wall. This is about business, securing a future. It’s not about the way my pulse races at the thought of her laughter echoing through the empty spaces of my house.

Yeah, right. Who am I kidding?

I slide into my car, slamming the door. My fingers grip the steering wheel, knuckles whitening as I rest my forehead against the coolness of it. Alone with my thoughts, the reality of what I’ve just set in motion hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. She’ll be there, in my territory, her presence a constant temptation. What have I gotten myself into?

A vibration on the passenger seat pulls me from my thoughts. I glance at the phone, the screen lighting up with a caller ID that never fails to wrench a smile from me. I’m reminded then, amid this self-made chaos, why I’m doing all of this. It’s not just about winning.

It’s for them. For her, the one who’s calling me now.

“Hey, Trouble,” I answer, using the affectionate nickname that comes naturally. I listen to the chipper voice on the other end, the complete opposite of the dark turmoil I’ve been wrestling with. I remind myself who I’m doing this for, why Nexus Tech needs to be mine.

This is a connection that grounds me, reminds me there’s more to life than boardrooms and balance sheets.

“Did you get the package I sent you?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light and playful, despite everything that’s going on. Because that’s what you do when you care—you protect them from your messes.

There’s no backing out of this grand plan now. As I pull away from Elizabeth’s curb, I remember there are more important things at stake here than my inconvenient attraction. Elizabeth is a means to an end, I tell myself firmly. Nothing more.

She can’t be anything more.

Chapter 12

Elizabeth

Istep out of the car and crane my neck up, up, up at Hendrix’s mansion—because let’s be honest, calling this place a ‘house’ is like calling the Queen of England just some old lady. The driveway alone looks like it could double as a runway for private jets, and I half expect to see one taxiing by any minute now.

Hendrix’s place is straight-up stunning. It’s got these perfectly groomed gardens, a long, sweeping driveway, and fancy architecture that kind of yells “rich,” but still manages to be classy. The whole estate is like if Downton Abbey had a baby with Tony Stark’s mansion, and I can’t believe I’m going to be living here for the next five weeks.

My jaw drops to the floor as soon as I step through the front door. This place is insane! The entrance hall alone looks big enough to house my entire apartment complex, with room to spare for a circus troupe.

“Holy cow on a cloud,” I mutter under my breath as I do a slow spin to take it all in. The floors are a pristine white marble that I’m almost afraid to walk on in my unworthy little flat shoes. Along one wall is a sweeping staircase with ornate metal railings that curve gracefully upward. My fingers itch to slide along the smooth polishings.

I let out a low whistle as I wander into the next room. The living room is straight out of a fairytale castle. A massive stone fireplace takes up nearly an entire wall, flanked on either side by bookshelves crammed with leather-bound volumes. Plush leather couches face each other across a glass coffee table. One whole side of the room is floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the sprawling grounds.

I plop down on one couch and laugh in disbelief. The thing feels like it’s stuffed with clouds.

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