Page 24 of Loaded Laces

“Belle?”

I jump, stop staying stuck in my head, and focus on Jace.

He’s holding a sheaf of papers…and yup, he’s pissed.

“What the fuck is this?” he snaps, tossing them on the desk.

Hesitantly, I shuffle closer, eyes going to the papers…and then shooting up to connect with his.

“You didn’t tell me the insurance company was fucking you and Quinn over,” he growls, tossing another stack onto the desktop. “And you didn’t tell me that you two were fuckinghomeless.”

“I—”

“What the fuck, Belle?” he snaps. “You’re my assistant, yes, but you’re a whole lot more. You’re a person I care about, and you gotevictedbecause you couldn’t pay bills for your son’s hospital stay. Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t youtellme?”

“I—”

“I’m a goddamned billionaire!” He slams his fist next to the papers, sending them fluttering through the air. “Did you ever think that maybe I could help?”

“I—”

He drops his palms to the desk, pushes up to his feet, voice calming, though it’s still liberally laced with ice. “Did you ever stop to think I wouldwantto help? I care about you and Quinn.”

“I—” I begin again. Then pause, half expecting him to interrupt me for the umpteenth time. When he doesn’t, I say, “It wasn’t your problem.”

Which is thewrongthing to say.

His scowl deepens to insane proportions. “Not my problem,” he grits out, shoving a hand through his hair, mussing the locks in a sure sign that he’s about to lose it. “Notmyproblem?”

“I—” I bite back my excuses and sigh. “Look,” I say carefully. “I didn’t think it was anyone’s problem but mine. And I was too stubborn to recognize that I didn’t have to do it all on my own.” An exhale. “But I’ve learned—oramlearning that I don’t need to do it that way, that I have people who’ll take my back, and”—I reach over and squeeze his arm—“I’m also lucky enough to have a boss who cares about me.”

The anger bleeds out of his face. “You do,” he says gently before his eyes fill with warning. “And you also have a boss who won’t take no when it comes to giving you this.”

He passes me an envelope and when I open the top, pull out the papers, my heart convulses.

“Jace,” I murmur.

“Don’t argue with me today,” he grumbles. “And don’t say no. Just…consider it and know that you’ll have to come up with a damned good argument to get me to back off about it.”

I open my mouth, but he just snags his jacket and phone, glares at me and semi-repeats, “Adamnedgood one.”

And then he’s sweeping from the room in a cloud of grumpy, billionaire yumminess.

I stare after him for a couple of seconds then shake my head and know that, as dire as things were, what I told Jace is correct.

I’m not alone.

I just didn’t understand that wasalwaysthe case.

But the medical bills—now paid—and the apartment in Quinn’s school district funded by Jace’s company are proof of that.

Just as much as West opening his house and kissing me gently and teaching Quinn how to skate is even more so.

We’re not alone.

Smiling, I shove the papers into my purse and hurry out of the office.

I have a sleepover to drop Quinn off at.

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