Page 19 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

But I can’t. Because every inch of space she puts between us feels like a challenge, feels like she's slipping away when I haven't even had a hold of her yet.

I clear my throat, a sound louder than I intend in the close quarters of the business class cabin. My eyes flicker back to Shiloh, who seems absorbed in her book. The engine's hum vibrates through the armrests, mirroring the restlessness I feel inside.

"Hey," I start, my voice cutting through the low murmur of passengers settling in. "When did you and Chris call it quits?"

She blinks, her fingers pausing on the page as if I've pulled her from another world. Her lips part slightly, and for a second, I think she might not answer. But then she presses them together, steeling herself.

"About two months ago," she says, her voice steady but softer than usual. There's a hint of something there—pain, maybe resignation. I can't quite pin it down.

"And actually, I didn’t break up with him; it was Chris who ended things."

The way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear tells me more than her words do. It was painful. Something bad happened. That son-of-a-bitch…

"Seriously?" I can't hide the disbelief in my voice. "I'm surprised you didn't kick him to the curb years ago."

She looks at me then, really looks at me with those deep brown eyes that always seem to see right through the bullshit. There's a vulnerability there that knocks the wind out of me.

"I could never bring myself to do it... even after he cheated on me," she confesses, her voice barely above the drone of the engines.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Chris cheated on her?

Of course he did because he takes after our dickhead father. I clench my fists, rage simmering just beneath my skin.

"What an asshole," I mutter under my breath, not caring if she hears me or not. It's true. Chris is an asshole, and she deserves so much more than what he gave her.

Shiloh just nods, a sad little smile playing on her lips as she turns her gaze back to her book. I stare at the top of her head, the way her hair falls in soft waves, and fight the urge to reach out and comfort her.

"Shiloh," I say, my voice low but firm. Her eyes flicker up to meet mine, and that look of surprise is back. "You deserve better."

She blinks, clearly taken aback by my words. It's like she's seeing a side of me she didn't know existed. Maybe I didn't either.

But right now, in this cramped space where the lines between boss and employee blur into something else, it feels right to say it.

"Thanks," she whispers, and there's a hint of something warm in her eyes before she quickly looks away.

"Anyway," I continue, pushing aside all the unwanted emotions that are trying to claw their way to the surface. "I'mgoing to try to catch some sleep." I lean back in my seat, not waiting for her response. "Wake me when we get there, okay?"

"Sure," Shiloh replies softly, her gaze fixed on the pages of her book once more.

I pull out my earbuds and shove them into my ears, blocking out the world around me. The satisfaction from our conversation lingers, mixed with a dangerous thrill I can't quite shake off. I close my eyes, letting the steady hum of the plane lull me towards a restless sleep.

Maybe I can at least not be an asshole.

She deserves that, if nothing else.

Chapter eight

Shiloh

I’ve never been toAtlanta, and I never expected to get here with a legal celebrity. But that’s exactly how it feels as we pull up to Aegis’ Atlanta offices.

The revolving doors usher us into a lobby that's more akin to a sleek hotel than a law office, with its high ceilings and minimalist art hanging from the walls. Polished concrete floors are softened by the occasional plush rug, while exposed brickwork adds a touch of the rustic South to the otherwise modern design. Live plants add a pop of greenery, their leaves whispering secrets of Southern hospitality amid the buzz of the city.

As we step further inside, it's as if I've walked into the epicenter of Liam’s world, where he is nothing short of royalty. Paralegals in crisply tailored suits look up from theirMacBooks, a chorus of "Mr. Nolan" echoing through the air like some sort of professional refrain.

Attorneys in corner offices poke their heads out, offering nods of respect that border on reverence. And then there are theassistants—gorgeous, each one of them, all statuesque lines and designer clothes, their smiles for Liam nothing short of adoring.

---