Page 102 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

“Damn right he is,” Mike states with conviction. “Unlike my wife, I prefer not to get involved in my kids’ love lives. I just wanted to tell you something about my son.” He glances toward the entrance before glancing back at me. “He’s a workaholic because of me. As the oldest, he has a sense of responsibility to his siblings, and I should have done more to make him feel like he had more options when it came to taking over the family business.”

A lump catches in my throat, making it difficult to swallow. Now that I understand Harrison better, it’s clear why he’d do everything in his power to protect his siblings, even if it meant shouldering the burden alone. It must have been difficult giving up the sport he loved and throwing himself into the family business instead. From what he’s told me, he spent years learning the ins and outs of the company, preparing for when he took over when his dad retired.

Harrison has turned Stafford Holdings into a billion-dollar empire and somehow makes it look easy. Even with all the stress he carries, it’s clear that he takes pride in his work, and that level of commitment only comes when you care deeply about what you do.

“You’re too hard on yourself, Mr. Stafford. Harrison is the man he is today because of you, and I know he enjoys the work he’s doing.”

“I can see why he cares about you.” Mike observes.

“I care about him too,” I admit, looking out at the rink to catch a glimpse of the man in question.

Until now, I’ve been careful to vocalize my feelings, but this seems like a safe space to admit that what Harrison and I have is real and far more than just a fling.

Mike chuckles. “Funny. I had a similar reaction when I met my wife. Now, here we are, with four wonderful kids, an energetic granddaughter with hopefully more on the way soon,and a lifetime of happiness.” He pauses, putting his hands in his pockets. “The only complaint I have is the heart-healthy diet Johanna has me sticking to. No more bacon for breakfast—just oatmeal and fruit. It’s the worst,” he grumbles.

I cover my mouth to keep from giggling. “Sounds like you and Harrison are both dealing with diet restrictions, which isn’t always easy.”

“We’re lucky to have women who know what’s best for us.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” I agree.

“Going back to my earlier point about a lifetime of happiness? Do you see that in your future?” he presses gently.

“Now you’re starting to sound like your wife,” I tease.

“She’s a wise woman.”

He’s right about that. Johanna saw what was between Harrison and me while we were still too consumed by resentment and anger to recognize our mutual attraction. But somehow, Johanna did, and I’ll always be thankful that she helped us find our way back to each other when we were too stubborn to see what we could have.

Spending time with the Staffords makes me feel like part of a real family. They genuinely want to get to know me and offer a sense of belonging I’ve been missing. I can’t help but think my parents played a part in leading me to this moment and guiding me to where I’m meant to be.

The past five days since returning from Aspen Grove have been nothing short of perfect. Harrison and I have made the most of every moment outside of work. We cuddle in bed each morning and share breakfast before he heads to the office. He’s even been coming home earlier and putting his phone away when we’re together.

Our evenings are spent making dinner, which means me cooking and him trying to distract me with kisses and the promise of sex. Most nights, we’ve ended up on the couch, with Cat on the other end, watching an episode ofAmerican Horror Story.

This penthouse has become my safe haven, and Harrison has made it clear it’s my home too, and I don’t want to risk losing that… or him. We’ve avoided a serious conversation about defining things between us so far. And while I’ve made up my mind that I want a future with him, I haven’t found the right time to tell him. For now, I’m content staying in our little bubble—where we have lots of sex and enjoy each other’s company.

Tonight, I planned to make gluten-free spaghetti and meatballs, but when I noticed I was out of tomato sauce and fennel, I went to the nearest grocery store rather than waiting on a delivery.

When I get back to the apartment, Walter opens the front door for me.

“Good afternoon, Walter,” I answer cheerfully, confused when he doesn’t reciprocate my smile.

“Hello, Miss Fallon,” he says.

I study him closer, noticing there’s a crease in his forehead and his lips are pressed into a thin line.

I rest my hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”

“You have a visitor waiting for you,” he explains.

I furrow my brow, unsure who it could be. Aside from the Staffords, Theo, and Lila, no one else knows that I live here.

“A visitor? Who would—”

“Elizabeth, there you are.” Grandmother’s voice cuts through the lobby, and I glance over as she gets out of her chair and heads toward me. “It’s rude to keep your elders waiting,” she scolds as she approaches me. “And your doorman is dreadful—wouldn’t let me wait upstairs and doesn’t even address you properly. What a disgrace.”

Walter stays silent beside me, his tight smile, the only hint of his irritation. He takes prides in his work and is, no doubt, insulted by my grandmother’s rude comment.

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