Page 15 of Starting Over with Her Billionaire Boss

“Between your work and my renovations, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to read both,” she laughed, turning to meet his gaze. It lasted perhaps a little longer than it should have. A faint smile came over his face. Kinsley wished she could read the man’s thoughts, if only in this moment.

“We always find time to do the things we want to do, don’t we? If something is important to us or holds value, we always find the right moment to sneak it in. No matter what.” His smile grew wider before he turned and walked toward his seat, setting both books on the coffee table.

Kinsley sat opposite him, pulling the books toward her end of the coffee table. “We definitely do…which makes me wonder.”

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I know it’s not my place to question it, but… This house is so big, yet you live here alone. Laurel said it’s been quite a long time since you were with someone.” Kinsley shifted in her chair during the brief silence before continuing. “I hope I’m not overstepping a boundary by asking, but just by the sheer size of your home, it must feel so…empty to live here alone.” She swallowed hard as heat cascaded over her. She shouldn’t have said any of that; this wasn’t what employees did. But this wasn’t the office. There was no Laurel, waiting to eavesdrop.

“But I’m not alone.” His eyes darted around the room as if he was trying to think of what to say. “I have plenty of domestic staff.” Mr. Westerhouse offered an unconvincing smile.

Kinsley exhaled. “That isn’t the same, Mr. Westerhouse.” Her fingers nervously played with the threads of her ripped jeans.

“I have friends and family, too, you know. Besides, I wasn’t always alone here. I built this house when I was planning to have use for the space.” Daegan’s fingers tightened around the edge of the armrest; the leather creaked under the strain. His jaw worked as if chewing over his words. “It was meant to be a family home,” he spoke quietly, though the words were raw at the edges.

Family home.That’s something Kinsley was trying to have. To save, really. As the silence filled the room—save for a ticking clock—Kinsley became acutely aware of the rise and fall of her chest with each breath.

Mr. Westerhouse shifted in the chair, looking past her, rather than meeting her eyes. “I considered down-sizing, but I just can’t seem to do it yet.”

“So...you’ve kept it. Hoping it might still become what you planned?”

“No.” His gaze flickered to her, a brief but telling hesitation, before his expression turned cold. He took a sip of his brandy, watching as the liquid inside swirled. “That dream ended years ago.” His expression hardened as the warmth in his voice evaporated, replaced by a sharp edge that cut through the room like a blade.

Kinsley’s chest tightened. The silence between them expanded, pressing on her like a physical weight. It took all her willpower to not fill it with more questions. Across from her, his gaze remained fixed on his glass, as if he could find his answers in it.

A shadow passed over him, his gaze distant before it hardened. The softness in his voice vanished, replaced by a chill that made Kinsley’s heart sink. “I would be just asalone—since you are calling it that—if I lived in a cardboard box. But I’m not alone.” Mr. Westerhouse doubled down.

She hated to admit it to herself, but she’d arrived there with an ounce of hope that there was something more to this invitation.But that was silly to think.She offered a fake smile, an attempt to ease the tension she’d started. “Why don’t you want that anymore? A family, I mean.”

“It isn’t something I talk about.” His tone became at once icy, no longer warm and inviting.

The line was crossed.

They sat in a heavy silence, the only noises from the wind outside and the soft squeak of the leather as Mr. Westerhouse shifted in his seat. Heat flushed through her skin, the silence only amplifying the tension in the room. When Kinsley looked toward him, his gaze was still locked on the coffee table.

She swallowed hard, wishing she could take back the last two minutes. She had stepped over a boundary on a topic that was, quite frankly, none of her business. It took everything she had to say still and calm, to not fidget on the spot under his penetrating stare.

The soft buzz of Kinsley’s personal phone was a welcome interruption. She reached into the front pocket of her handbag for it like it was a lifeline.Cameron.“Pardon me,” she whispered in his direction before answering the call.

His eyes followed her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Kinsley thought she saw something—regret, maybe, or disappointment—but it was gone before she could be sure.

As Kinsley spoke softlyinto her phone, Daegan leaned back in his chair, a chill settling over him that felt oddly welcome. He watched her for a moment longer, wondering if she’d sensed the boundaries he was working to uphold.

The weight in the air became heavy as the tension between them grew. He tried to remain calm, though his feelings were anything but. What business was it of hers to ask him about his relationship status? Who did she think she was?

“I’ll call you back in a few minutes, Cameron,” Kinsley said softly into her phone. Daegan’s heart skipped a beat as Kinsley listened to the caller for a moment more, before uttering a quick “goodbye” and hanging up.

His eyes darted to her. This time, he watched her posture become smaller as she seemed to retreat within herself. It was as if all the warmth had drained from his body. Who was this Cameron, and why did he feel so threatened by him? After all, the distance he felt between himself and Kinsley only seemed to feel greater than ever before. He should never have invited her here; this was a mistake he couldn’t make twice.

Kinsley’s eyes flickered. “I’m so sorry. I really should head home.” She stood abruptly, shoving her phone into her handbag—a clear signal of her eagerness to end the conversation. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, though.”

“Maybe you’ll find time tonight for one of those books,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. He needed to shift the focus back to why she’d come to his home to begin with. Books. Not to pry into his personal matters.

“I don’t think I’ll have time tonight, but maybe this weekend.” She was quick with her words as she scooped up the books.

“No plans?” He stood, escorting her back through the house.

“I…” Her voice trailed off, as if she was trying to either figure out what to make up, or what to keep hidden. “I actually think I may have a visitor this weekend.”

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