Page 23 of Little Did You Know

"I've never—" My fingers twisted in my napkin. "Nick, you can't just hand me a job because you feel responsible for me. I came here to stand on my own feet, not to trade one person taking care of me for another."

"Is that what you think this is?" The edge in his voice made me look up. He'd leaned forward, elbows on the table—a crack in his usual perfect posture. "You graduated top of your class, Olivia. Do you think I built this company by hiring people I felt sorry for?" A hint of that familiar half-smile softened his words. "The housing situation is temporary. The job offer isn't charity—it's business."

"Business," I echoed, testing the word. It sounded different in his mouth than it had in Emmett's.

I wasn't sure what to think. The job sounded amazing, but I wasn't sure about living with Nick. I didn't want to impose on his lifestyle or inconvenience him. But I also didn't know how to tell him no.

"Okay,” I finally replied, the words feeling like surrender. "But I don't want to be a burden."

"You could never be a burden. I'm glad you're here." He flashed a reassuring smile, the kind that softened the hard edges of his face. "Plus, you'll be in a dorm before you know it. You'll start work for a half-day on Monday."

I returned the smile and nodded in agreement. Problem solved. Crisis averted. I gathered my napkin to place it beside my plate, ready to escape the intensity of his gaze and process everything alone.

"Wait, Olivia." His tone shifted, the lightness evaporating like morning mist.

My hand froze mid-movement. "Yes?” My brows raised as my stomach clenched. His expression had changed, reminding me of courtroom dramas where the real questioning was just beginning. "Please tell me it's not another mess like the school."

Nick folded his hands on the table. A businessman's pose. A negotiator's stance.

"Have you talked to Emmett since you've been here?"

I shook my head, unease growing at the careful neutrality in his voice.

He held my gaze, unflinching. "What happened to your inheritance?"

My brows pulled together, and my head twisted. "Inheritance?" The word felt foreign on my tongue, like a language I'd never learned.

Nick's fingers drummed once against his coffee cup. "The money your parents left you." His voice was carefully neutral.

"There wasn't—" I stopped, something in his expression making me choose my next words carefully. "There was no money." Each fact fell between us like stones into still water. "You know this. You were there."

His eyes narrowed, not in confusion but in something darker.

"Who told you that, Olivia?" Nick's voice was soft, but something dangerous lurked beneath the surface.

The morning sun suddenly felt too bright, too exposing. I squinted against it, wishing for shadows to hide in.

"Emmett did. He handled everything after—" The words stuck in my throat. Even after all these years, I couldn't say it aloud. "After."

Nick set his coffee cup down. "Why would he tell you that?"

"Because it's true." I searched his face. "Why are you looking at me like that? Like I'm... missing something obvious."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Don't you have a bank account?"

"A bank—" I gave a short laugh. "No. Why would I?"

"Most adults have bank accounts, Olivia."

Heat crept up my neck. "Emmett's always taken care of the finances."

"Of course he has," Nick murmured, more to himself than to me.

"Look, I didn't have a job. He supported me financially. There was no reason?—"

"What about your parents' assets?" He cut through my explanation like a knife through silk.

"What assets?" My voice sharpened. "They weren't doing as well as everyone thought."

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