Page 24 of Little Did You Know

Something flickered in Nick's eyes—disbelief? Pity?

"Our house was foreclosed on shortly after you left. Back taxes," I added, the familiar explanation bitter on my tongue. "The business was failing long before Emmett got his hands on it." I recited the facts as I'd heard them a hundred times. "They were broke, Nick. They had nothing to leave us."

"Is that what he told you?" Nick's knuckles whitened around his cup.

"That's what happened." But even as I said it, fear crept in. "Why? What’s going on?"

Nick shook his head. "I was under the impression that your parents left an inheritance to you and Emmett, but I must have been mistaken."

"If they would have left us something, they would have left it for you as well."

He smiled. "I know." A silent moment passed between the two of us. Perhaps the silence was in remembrance of my parents or something else. "I have some stuff for you." Nick stood from the table and headed into his room, and I followed. "Here is your new cell phone." He handed me a brand-new smartphone. "Here is your new laptop." He showed me the laptop before laying it on the desk in his room. "And here are the keys to your new car." He jingled the keys right in front of my face.

The keys dangled between us like a challenge. "Nick." My voice caught somewhere between gratitude and panic. "This is too much. All of it."

"Is it?" That familiar arch of his eyebrow—half amusement, half stubbornness. "Walk me through how you plan to handle client calls without a phone, or manage spreadsheets without a laptop." He took a step closer, voice dropping. "Or maybe you're planning to skateboard to work?"

"I could—" The protest died on my lips as his expression shifted to something softer, more serious.

"Let me do this, Olivia." The keys pressed into my palm, warm from his hand. "Not because you need it, but because I—" He caught himself, cleared his throat. "Because the company needs you mobile and connected. Consider it a business investment."

"A business investment," I repeated, fingers curling around the keys. "With a very generous interest rate."

His laugh surprised us both. "We'll negotiate terms later."

"Thanks, Nick, for everything."

"No problem, I have to go to work for a couple of hours. Will you be okay here?"

"Of course."

"I programmed all of my numbers into your phone as well as Jackson's, my driver, Carson, who handles all my security, Justin's, my business partner, Emmett's, and Hannah's. If you have an emergency, you should be able to get a hold of one of us."

"Thanks." I felt out of place.

"No problem," he smiled. "Oh, and here's your credit card." He pulled a thin card from his wallet and handed it to me. The look of confusion didn't go unnoticed. "What's the matter?"

"I don't have a credit card. I had a card connected with Emmett's accounts, but that's not it."

"This is connected to my accounts," he replied, shoving the card into my hand. "There's no budget if you need it to use it."

"No, thank you, Nick." I tried shoving the card back at him. "I can't repay all of this; the clothes, the money, the phone, any of it. Emmett will be furious if he finds out I ran up a bill like this."

"Olivia, you don't have to pay me back. I want to help, and don't worry about Emmett. I'll handle him." I didn't like this feeling. Nick didn't owe me anything, and I felt like he thought he was responsible for me, and he wasn't. But I shook my head, not wanting to argue.

"One more thing." Nick's casual tone set off immediate warning bells. "There's a charity function tonight."

My relief at changing subjects evaporated. "Oh?"

"The children's hospital fundraiser." He watched me over his coffee cup, too carefully. "It's a red carpet event, and I was hoping you'd join me."

The word 'date' hung unspoken between us. "I'm not exactly society page material."

He crossed the space between us in two steps—deliberate, unhurried. The air between us seemed to thin, oxygen replaced by the subtle notes of his cologne. My lungs contracted, each breath shallow and insufficient.

His finger tilted my chin up, the contact feather-light but electric. Heat radiated from that single point of contact, traveling along my jawline, down my throat. For a heartbeat, his gaze dropped to my lips, and the world narrowed to impossible possibility.

But no. When his eyes met mine again, they were serious, the fleeting warmth replaced by something more measured. Professional. The moment crystallized, then fractured.

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