Page 97 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

When the chaos subsides, I lift my head, coughing as I try to catch my breath.

“Dominic,” I croak, my voice raw.

“I’m here,” he says, his voice steady despite the destruction around us.

But as we look back at the smoldering remains of the warehouse, one thing is clear: Marlowe is gone.

And with him, so is our lead.

26

_________

Dominic

The penthouse feels too quiet. The kind of quiet that wraps around your chest and squeezes, forcing you to confront everything you’d rather bury. Eva sits curled on the couch across from me, her shoulders tense as she flips through a file. She hasn’t spoken in nearly an hour, not really, and every time her eyes dart to me, they hold a wariness I don’t recognize.

She’s pulling away.

It’s subtle—barely a shift—but I see it. Feel it. And it guts me in a way I didn’t expect.

“Eva,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

She doesn’t respond, her attention fixed on the papers in front of her.

“Eva,” I repeat, sharper this time.

Her head snaps up, her expression guarded. “What?”

The clipped tone stings, but I push past it. “You’ve been sitting there for hours. You should rest.”

Her laugh is short and humorless. “Rest? Really? That’s your solution?” She gestures at the papers scattered on the coffee table. “Every time I try to catch my breath, something else blows up. My past, your company, this hacker—there’s no resting, Dominic. Not when the ground keeps shifting under my feet.”

I step closer, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “We’ll get ahead of this. I promise you.”

She stares at me like she wants to believe me, but there’s a flicker of doubt in her eyes. A hesitation I’ve never seen before. “You don’t know that,” she says softly.

Her words shouldn’t hit as hard as they do. I’ve spent my entire life solving problems, fixing what’s broken, but this—her—she isn’t something I can fix with power or money. And that terrifies me.

“You’re not alone in this, Eva,” I say, my voice dropping. “You’re not.”

Her gaze softens for a moment, but then she shakes her head. “Aren’t I?”

She stands, the file slipping from her lap to the coffee table. “You’ve built this fortress around yourself, Dominic. You keep everything locked away, like you’re afraid to let anyone see the cracks.”

I take a step closer, my pulse pounding. “If I let the cracks show, everything falls apart.”

Her voice trembles. “But doesn’t it get lonely? Carrying everything by yourself?”

“Yes,” I admit before I can stop myself. The truth hangs heavy in the air between us, and for a moment, neither of us moves.

Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, she steps toward me, her eyes searching mine. “I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she whispers.

The vulnerability in her voice snaps something inside me. I close the distance between us, my lips crashing into hers. The kiss is raw, desperate—a collision of everything we’ve been holding back.

Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear. I press her against the edge of the couch, my body aligning with hers, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist.

But reality creeps back in too quickly. The sharp buzz of her phone breaks the moment. She pulls away reluctantly, her breathing uneven, and checks the screen.

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