Page 64 of The Bossy Billionaire

“Brian?” he questions, his brow crumbling.

“Oh, he is a friend of Katie’s. A great shopper. I called them both to see if they would help me get a new wardrobe. You know, so I can stop hiding behind my baggy sweaters,” I tell him, and he smiles.

“You do look cute in those sweaters, though…” he says teasingly.

“Well, I will keep them just for you,” I tease back, smiling, while my stomach still feels like lead, Terry Jones’s face still front and center in my mind.

“Huxley, did you put flowers on my parents’ grave?” I ask abruptly. I have thought about it constantly, and I feel sick as I start to broach this conversation. I don’t want to tell him about Terry Jones here. It is a beautiful restaurant; we are both dressed up, and he flew me to New York for dinner. Tonight is the night of fairy tales. But I need to ensure that he is the man I can confide in. The one I can trust. The one on my side. I know he is, but with losing my parents, finding out I was adopted, learning that my biological parents didn’t want me, to then becoming a sister to four overbearing brothers, one of whom is going to become the leader of the free world, I don’t trust myself in the ability to know my left from my right some days.

“Yes,” he says quietly, looking at me.

“Why?” I ask, my heart pounding. I am not upset, but purely curious.

“I went there because I wanted to introduce myself and make them a promise.” My eyebrows pull together in confusion as my heart leaps out of my chest.

“What?” I barely whisper.

“Luce,” he says, and I see him swallow and adjust himself in his chair. “I know you had a special connection to your parents. I know you go there often. I wanted to go, pay my respects, and while I was there, I told them both what an amazing woman you have become. How strong and resilient you are. How much you mean to me, and I promised them I would look after you.” If I wasn’t sitting, I would have fallen over.

“Oh…” Where in the world did this man come from? Huxley and I were pushed together through business, but now I can’t imagine my life without him in it.

“I’m thinking that I want to spend more time in Baltimore,” he says, looking at me, our hands connecting again on the table as my eyes water.

“You do?” I ask as I melt into my seat. I know we are together. I also know after tonight everyone in the country will know about it too. But I did have my reservations on how this would work. With me being in Baltimore and his business in New York.

“I want to be closer to you. I know you are never going to leave Bloomers, and I respect that. I also know that I can probably work from anywhere most of the time, although New York will still need me periodically. I want to make a go of us, Luce. You and me.” I fill my lungs as the words I wanted to hear from him wash over me.

“I would like that too,” I tell him, wanting nothing more than to crawl into his lap and hold him. As if on cue, the waiter returns and places our food in front of us, and the moment leaves as we both start our meals, conversation drifting into business and my brothers. I now know that he is all in, and so am I. So as soon as we leave here, I will tell him about Terry. Huxley will keep me safe. I have given him my heart, and I know he will protect it.

* * *

As we step out of the car at the front of Huxley’s building, my smile is a mile wide. Huxley’s arm wraps around my waist protectively as he pulls me to his side. We had a great night, the diamond books now sparkling on my skin after Huxley put the charm on my necklace. The cool night breeze coats across my chest, making me shiver, but there are only a few steps to his high-rise glass door entrance, and then we will be inside.

“Huxley,” a woman's voice says as she pops in front of us so quickly, we both stop abruptly. I look at her, startled, and I feel Huxley’s body stiffen beside me, his fingers now digging into my waist. I am confused. The woman looks familiar, but I know I have never met her. I look at her, then look up at Huxley. His face is stone-cold, unmoving, almost like he has seen a ghost. The realization washes over me then as my head snaps back to the woman. Her gaze locked on him, I feel like I am a third wheel in this party of three.

“Huxley?” I say, my hand coming to his chest, and his body jumps like he has been burned. He grabs my hand and strums his thumb, caressing me, holding my hand.

“What are you doing here?” It doesn’t sound like him at all.

Amy is stunning, even more beautiful in real life. The images I have seen of her online are nothing like the real-life version. I have so many questions, but as I look at Huxley, his eyes not wavering from Amy, I know he does too.

Amy looks at me, her lips pursed, seemingly displeased. Her eyes trail me up and down, and I draw a deep breath. I feel deflated. Amy is the whole package. Long blond hair, a body to die for, she is so pretty and obviously confident. I move my hand to push up my nonexistent glasses before I rip my hand away and clench my fists. This day two years ago, I was almost burned to the ground. Right now, I feel just as broken.

I hear the familiar sounds of cameras clicking and turn around, seeing a few paps nearby.

“Huxley, we should move inside,” I say quietly, and he looks around, then nods.

“Inside,” he says almost robotically, keeping me close as the two of us walk into his apartment building and stand in the foyer, waiting for Amy to follow. I watch her as she takes her time, appearing to pose for the camera, clearly liking the attention, before she joins us.

“We need to talk,” she says, looking like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“You go for two years, and now you want to talk?” Huxley’s voice rises, and I clench his hand in mine. He looks down at me, and I see his shoulders lower a little.

“Upstairs, we don’t need a fucking audience,” he seethes at Amy, looking at the cameras still outside.

Huxley steps to the elevator and hits the button with such force, I am amazed it doesn’t crack. The elevator opens, and he pulls me inside, never letting me go, holding me tighter as Amy walks in. The journey to his penthouse is silent. The tension between them is palpable, and my heart hammers in my chest at what’s coming.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT - HUXLEY

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