Page 35 of Pretend You're Mine

CHAPTER 20

AVERY

The hotel room was as perfect as a glossy travel magazine cover—everything you’d expect from a five-star stay in Tokyo. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the neon-lit skyline, skyscrapers casting their reflections into the bay. The sleek, minimalist decor with its soft gray tones, pristine white king-sized bed, and the glass-walled bathroom screamed luxury. But I barely took it in. I loosened my tie and collapsed onto the plush couch, exhaustion pulling at me. Four days of endless meetings and investor dinners had taken their toll, and for the first time, I was alone.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I stared at Creed’s number, tempted by the idea of hearing his voice, the low timbre that still played in my head whenever I closed my eyes. I hesitated, then settled on a message instead.

Me: Hey, you up?

I sent it, staring at the screen, feeling like some lovesick teenager. A few seconds passed, then the familiar three dots popped up. I exhaled, not realizing I’d been holding my breath.

Creed: Yeah, just got back from work.

A wave of relief washed over me, knowing that at least now Creed wouldn’t be forced to sleep in his car or scrounge for his next meal. The thought of him out in the cold, wrapped in that fraying jacket of his, twisted something deep inside my chest. But with this job, he could afford a roof over his head, food, a place to clean up—basic things, sure, but essential.

It wasn’t enough.

If he’d let me, I could give him so much more. A decent place to stay, some new clothes, whatever he needed. God knew, I had the money to spare. But I knew better than to even suggest it. I’d only known Creed for a short time, but it hadn’t taken long to see the pride in him, the fierce independence that burned in his eyes. He’d see my offer as charity, something that threatened the fragile sense of control he was clinging to. He’d hate me for even bringing it up.

So, I swallowed the impulse and tapped out a message, one that wouldn’t bruise his pride.

Me: Work, huh? How was it?

And I waited, hoping that whatever he shared would be more than just the bare-bones details.

I imagined him glancing around whatever rundown room he’d managed to find, deciding whether he wanted to share. Then, his reply came in.

Creed: It’s alright. Doing construction on this big site downtown. Lots of heavy lifting, concrete, and steel. Not exactly glamorous, but it will pay the bills.

I could almost hear the shrug in his words, the way he brushed off anything that hinted at struggle. But I knewbetter. There was something unsaid in his message, something lingering just below the surface.

That must be hard work,I typed back, my fingers lingering over the keys before hitting send.You holding up okay?

Another pause. I waited, a dull ache settling in my chest. I wanted to know, needed to know.

Creed: Yeah. It's tough, but it keeps me busy. And it’s kind of... satisfying? In a weird way. You know, working with my hands, seeing the progress at the end of the day. But the guys on site... they can be a handful.

I frowned at the screen, my brows drawing together.

Me: A handful?

His response came quicker this time, like he wanted to push past it before I could press too much.

Creed: Just a lot of talk. You know the type. Always got something to say about women, like it’s a damn locker room. I just keep my head down and get the job done.

I could practically hear the edge in his voice, the irritation simmering beneath the words. It wasn’t hard to imagine how those kinds of conversations might grate on him. I wanted to ask more, wanted to dig into what exactly those guys were saying, how it made him feel, but I held back. This wasn’t the time for me to push. Instead, I tried to lighten the mood.

Me: Bet you’re the hardest worker there, huh? Showing those guys how it’s done.

A few seconds later, his reply appeared.

Creed: Something like that. At least I’m good at hauling stuff around.

I typed, fingers moving quickly across the screen.

Me: I bet you’re good at a lot more than that.

I hoped he’d hear the sincerity in my words, the belief I had in him, even if he didn’t believe in himself yet.

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