Page 73 of Seducing the Billionaire

She moves to see it better, holding a hand over her mouth to contain a laugh. “One of the fashion trends that thankfully died out.”

“So that’s not how you’re doing Serena’s dress?”

She gives me a look, and I bust out laughing, the weight of getting caught earlier finally lifting.

“Not that your mom isn’t gorgeous in her own right, but dear God let those puffed sleeves and that beaded headband stay in the eighties.”

“I think you’re jealous.”

She smirks, settling in more comfortably next to me. “You caught me.”

“I can’t believe he saved this stuff.” I sift through the rest of the box, finding more photographs of me and my brothers as kids, a few notable event tickets, and even a few pieces of her jewelry. “Do you think he was actually nostalgic, or he chucked it in here and forgot about it?”

“Most of it was already in here. But the wedding photograph and one other was in his nightstand drawer.”

My brows raise. “Which one?”

She takes the box from me, searching through it until she finds a photo of us three boys and Mom at the beach, squinting into the camera.

“Was your dad taking the picture?”

I shake my head. “No. He was supposed to come, but had to work. Mom asked the nanny to take it.”

“You had a nanny?” She then holds up a hand, stopping me before I can reply. “Wait, never mind. Sometimes I forget who I’m talking to.”

“Come on, having a nanny isn’t that far out there.”

She gives me an exasperated sigh, making me chuckle. “Connor, you’re currently living in a suite at a five-star hotel. You’re a little out of touch with reality.”

I grin. “All right, fair enough.” I return the photo and close the lid, setting the box next to me. “I’ll have to show Gabriel and Archer this soon. I’m glad you didn’t put this in storage yet.”

Her hand lightly trails up my arm. “I figured you’d want to see it. To know he kept something close to him about family.”

Why were those in his nightstand drawer? Did he actually look at them? Trace the curves of our faces with his fingers? Wonder what that day at the beach would have been like if he’d shown up?

I won’t get any answers sitting here in this closet, though. And honestly, do I care as much about trying to figure out Dad as I did a few weeks ago? Sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.

Or, in my case, dead fathers.

Emma’s hand continues to trail up and down my arm soothingly, but when she tries to interlace her fingers with mine, I pull away. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Not after what happened this morning.”

Where a few days prior she would have pushed for more, this time she retreats, folding her hands in her lap.

“It’s not that I want to say no,” I tell her, needing to justify myself. “I’m not… rejecting you.”

“I know,” she murmurs, so softly I can barely hear her.

I stand, stepping out into the main area to make sure no one else is here, paranoid now someone will catch us, and then rejoin her, crouching again. “Will you come to my hotel tonight?” I whisper. “Just because we shouldn’t do anything at work doesn’t mean we can’t do it off the clock.”

She gives me a small smile, spreading her skirt out over her lap. “You have that gala. Angelina included it in that packet.”

Fuck. And it’s not like I can invite her. I don’t want the gossip sites inferring anything’s going on between us while she’s still my assistant. It’ll be hard enough when they find out later.

Assuming there is a later.

“Tomorrow night, then?”

“Tomorrow night,” she agrees.

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