Page 47 of “Not” Engaged to the Grumpy Billionaire

Her brow furrows, and she looks at me fully now, surprise flickering across her face. “Why are you sorry?”

The question catches me off guard, and I struggle to find the right answer. “Because that kiss shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.”

She blinks, her lips parting slightly as if the words sting. “Oh.”

Her reaction twists something in my chest, but I press on, needing to explain. “You’re Bryan’s sister, Liz. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I wasn’t thinking.”

Something shifts in her expression—something sharp and defensive. “Right,” she says, her tone clipped. “Because that’s the only reason it was a mistake.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, frowning.

“It means,” she says, her voice rising slightly, “that maybe we should just drop the discussion altogether.”

“Liz—”

“I’m serious, Nate,” she cuts me off, her gaze fierce. “Let it go.”

I bite back my response, the words burning on the tip of my tongue. The rest of the drive is silent, the tension thick enough to choke.

When we arrive at the office, Liz steps out of the car quickly, her movements stiff and purposeful. I follow, unsure of what to say or how to fix this.

As we step into the building, she stops abruptly, turning to face me. Her expression is calm now, almost too calm.

“Look,” she says, her tone even. “You don’t have to worry about last night. It won’t happen again.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut.

“It was nothing,” she continues, her gaze steady but devoid of the warmth I’ve grown used to. “We’ll just move on and pretend it never happened.”

She doesn’t give me a chance to respond, turning on her heel and walking toward her desk.

I stand there, frozen, her words echoing in my head.

It was nothing.

But it wasn’t. Not to me.

And the thought of her forgetting the kiss, of pretending it never happened, is unbearable. Because all I want to do is kiss her again.

Chapter eleven

Liz

The kiss has been replaying in my mind all morning, no matter how hard I try to push it away. Nate’s words from breakfast cut through me like a blade every time I think about them.

"It was a mistake."

I’ve heard those four words over and over, as if my brain is a broken record, stuck on the part that hurts the most. Each time the memory loops, my chest tightens, and tears threaten to spill, but I don’t let them. Not here. Not now.

Instead, I bury myself in work, focusing on organizing schedules, replying to emails, and tidying Nate’s desk—not because it’s messy but because I need to keep my hands busy. The alternative is letting my thoughts wander back to him, to his words, to the way he looked at me when he said them.

A mistake. That’s all it was to him.

The realization stings more than it should. It shouldn’t matter what he thinks. It shouldn’t. But it does, and that’s what terrifies me.

I glance at the clock. It’s only 11:30 AM, and the day is crawling at an excruciating pace. My phone buzzes on the desk, snapping me out of my haze. I reach for it, grateful for the distraction, but the name on the screen stops me cold.

Bryan.

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