Page 63 of Fireworks & Forehead Kisses

I could not reconcile the two.

When I opened my eyes, I was scared she might not still be there, but she was. “I didn’t think I’d see you, either.”

“Why did you tell me that your name was Xavier?” she asked, getting right to the point.

“Xavier’s my middle name,” I explained. “I just didn’t want to be Declan Wolfe for once. People act differently when they find out your name is on the hotel. I’m not saying you would have, but?—”

“It’s okay.” She held up her hand. “I understand.”

It was so strange being face to face with Carrie, or Ashley again, but this time her being an entirely different person. I felt like I knew both people so well, so how could they be the same person, and I have no idea?

“Why did you say your name was Carrie?”

She licked her lips, and I felt my cock swell in my pants. It seemed my dick hadn’t got the memo that Carrie was Ashley and what he was doing was an HR nightmare.Fuck, I’d slept with an employee. I hadn’t even considered that until now.

“I sort of figured out that you gave me a fake name because you kept interrupting Lucas, so I thought I would give you a fake name, too. Plus, I never had a one-night stand, so I thought anonymous would be the best way to go.”

“Right. So how’s that working out?” I teased.

“Good. Yeah, it’s going great.” She smiled, and my heart actually ached in my chest. Her smile could start wars and end wars; that was how fucking powerful it was.

I cleared my throat and tried to rein in my body’s strong physical response to her. “So why the name Carrie?”

“Oh, it’s um, a Sex and the City thing. I’m the Carrie of my friend group. And when I saw you, I sort of nicknamed you Big, which is her love interest in the show.” Her cheeks flushed when she admitted she’d given me a nickname. “So, yeah, that was why Carrie.”

Damn, even her explanation was adorable.

My phone rang, and I saw that it was Harry calling me back. I didn’t want this conversation to be interrupted, but I’d beentrying to get a hold of him since I’d spoken to my grandmother this morning, and I needed to speak to him.

“I need to take this. Can you wait? Don’t leave.”

She nodded.

I picked up the phone. “Harry.”

“Declan, I got your messages. I’m sorry, but the will stands. If you are not married by Christmas, everything goes to Derek. It doesn’t matter if he’s in rehab or has charges pending; hell, even if he’s in jail. The only stipulation is that he is married,” he answered every question I’d posed to him in the messages I’d left.

“Therehasto be something I can do. Some precedent. Some loophole. Some way to contest it.”

“I wish there were. I do.”

What the fuck had my grandfather been thinking?

“The only way to stop Derek from inheriting is to get married.”

I sighed. “Thanks for getting back to me.” I hung up the phone and set it back on my desk. “Sorry about that. That was my lawyer. Something has come up about the company.”

I had no clue why I was telling her. I had no reason to explain myself. In my life, everyone was on a need-to-know basis, and no one needed to know shit. This woman did something to me. At least she did when I was in her presence.

“Stella told me about the will. I’m so sorry, Declan.”

Two things about her statement struck me. First, the sincerity in her eyes was real. I’d always been good at reading people. She might not be able to stand me, but I could see that she felt bad that I was going to lose my business. Second, hearing her say my name, my real name, did something inside of me. It made me feel things I wasn’t sure I wanted to acknowledge.

“I don’t want to take up your time. I just thought we should clear the air, and I wanted to give you this.” She took two stepstoward my desk, set a folded paper on it, and turned to leave. When she did, her hair fanned out, and the faint scent of berry and vanilla wafted through the air; I closed my eyes and leaned into it, just like I had when she’d walked into my hotel room door.

When I opened my eyes, I was staring down at the paper she’d left. “What is it?”

She stilled and turned back. “It’s my resignation.”

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