Page 32 of The Grump's Assistant

“The house needs repairs,” he says simply, as if it’s obvious. “I also talked to your mother’s oncologist. I’m glad she has an appointment today. Whatever she chooses for treatment is already paid for. I gave her doctor the name of a few specialists and pointed him in the direction of some clinical trials, so she’ll have a lot of options.”

“But why…?”

He ignores my question. “I wasn’t sure what your favorite color was, so as soon as you let me know, I’ll have a car delivered here. I don’t like you and your mother driving around in that rusted out death trap.”

“What? That’s too much!” I say exasperatedly. “Why are you doing this? I thought… I thought you hated me.”

Finally, Vincent turns his full attention on me, his dark gaze capturing mine. The untouchable facade crumbles around him, and he lets me see the broken man underneath. “I could neverhate you,” he murmurs, his voice full of sorrow. I’ve never seen such depth of emotion from the normally stoic beast.

“But…”

He takes a step closer, cautiously lifting his hand to my cheek. I let him hold me, his tender touch bringing tears to my eyes. I told the man I loved him, and he fired me. I should slap him. Instead, all I want to do is collapse in his arms.

“I fucked up,” he whispers. “I let you go. I had a momentary lapse in judgment, and I promise it will never happen again.”

“What are you saying?”

He’s silent for a moment, his thumb caressing my cheek while he holds me captive with his brown eyes. Searching, pleading, willing me to listen and believe him.

“I love you, Juniper.”

My heart skitters to a stop and my breath is caught in my throat. I want to tell him I love him too, that we can start over, no secrets this time.

Instead, I blurt out, “I’m mad at you.”

Vincent grins, and good god, that’s a dangerous look on him. It makes me want to strip down and climb him like a tree.

“I know, and I deserve your anger. That’s why I’m fixing up the place and getting you a car.”

My eyes narrow at him and I take a step back. “You’re buying my forgiveness?”

“No, Juniper, it’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it’s like. From where I’m standing, you broke my heart and tossed me out of your office. And the cherry on top was telling Jennifer we slept together and having her call me a slut. I don’t deserve that!” My arms fly out as I gesture like a crazy person. I knew I was upset with my beast of a former boss, but I didn’t realize how much until right now.

“No, you don’t deserve that. I’m trying to apologize,” he says as he starts to pace back and forth in front of me. “I’m not good at this shit.”

“Let me give you a hint. Money won’t solve all of your problems.” I cross my arms and give him my best glare.

One minute, I’m trying to set his head on fire with my stare, and the next minute, I’m upside down.

“Hey! What the hell?” I screech as Vincent stomps up the creaky porch stairs with me flung over his shoulder. I pound on his back, but he just grunts and pushes the door open, heading straight for the couch.

Once he has me settled in his lap, I try scrambling off. Vincent locks his arms around me, pressing me against his chest. I try half-heartedly to fight him off, but as soon as he tightens his hold, I relax. I’m not scared or suffocated in his strong embrace. It’s like he’s calming me down breath by breath, willing me to surrender.

“I know very well that money won’t solve my problems,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head.

His sweet gesture has tears stinging the back of my eyes.

“I’ve had more money than I know what to do with for years, but I was still an empty shell, void of any color or happiness. And then you came along, with your chatter, charm, and greasy burgers.”

“The three things I’m most known for,” I add, sniffling a bit as the first tears fall. Vincent gives me a small smile, though I can tell he doesn’t want me to cry.

“There’s that sass,” he says, kissing my nose. “I’m no good at relationships. I don’t know how to be a good partner, but I wanted to show you how I’ll provide for you. How my money is your money. For thirty-three years, I’ve lived by the principle my dad hammered home every single day—you have to sacrifice everything for success, even family. Especially family,according to my old man. You made me realize my priorities were completely fucked up. I still want to sacrifice everything to achieve my goal, but it’s changed.”

“Changed?” I croak out.

“Completely,” he agrees. “It’s you, angel. I want you. I want you every single day, as my wife, my love, my everything. I understand why you did what you did, why you took the job. Opportunity literally called you, all you did was answer.”

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