Page 90 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
I close my eyes, but I can still feel him. The way he looked at me when he said he liked me. The way his voice dropped when he said he’d leave if I didn’t feel the same. Like he was giving me the power to break him. And trusting me not to.
That trust… it undoes something inside me.
I roll over, curl into myself. My chest aches in the best way. I should be scared. I should be planning an escape route or thinking about all the reasons this is a bad idea. But I’m not. I’m just here. In this moment. Letting myself feel it.
My heart is full.
And for tonight, that’s enough.
CAL
Iwake up smiling.
For a moment, I don’t know why. The sheets are tangled at my feet, the morning light is soft, and there’s a calm stillness in the room I haven’t felt in a long time.
Then I remember.
Margot.
In my dream, she was laughing. Not the small, polite smile she gives when she’s being gracious, but a full, open laugh—the kind that tugs at the corners of her mouth until her eyes crinkle and her nose scrunches just a little. We were outside, maybe near the fire pit, maybe on the porch. Her hand was in mine. We were just talking. And somehow, everything felt easy. Natural. Right.
I close my eyes again, trying to hold onto the feeling a little longer.
I don’t dream like that often. Not since the burnout, the pressure, the constant noise. But last night? Last night quieted something in me.
Her voice. Her eyes. The way she let herself soften, even if just for a moment.
And the way I didn’t want to leave.
I sit up slowly, dragging a hand through my hair. My chest is full—hope, nerves, whatever this new thing is. All I know is, I meant every word I said last night. I want to stay. Not just at the inn. Not just for the town. I want to stay for her.
It scares the heck out of me.
But it also feels like the first thing that’s made sense in a very long time.
I should tell her.
I know that. It sits in my chest like a weight I keep shifting around, trying to ignore, but never quite setting down. I should’ve told her last night—when we were standing so close I could see the flecks in her eyes, when she kissed me and didn’t pull away. When she looked at me like I was just… Cal.
Not Calvin Hale.
Not the man behind a tech empire with a board of directors and aForbesfeature and a few too many NDAs.
Just me.
And I loved it. I loved that she doesn’t know the dollar signs. That she isn’t impressed by my last name. That she thinks I’m a regular guy who came here for quiet and peace and maybe some purpose.
Which… I kind of am.
But the rest of it? The full truth? It’s still hanging back like a shadow behind me. And I know—sooner or later—it’s going to come out. Maybe Thea will figure it out. Maybe someone will post something online, and it’ll get back to her. Or maybe I’ll get a call I can’t ignore, and the whole illusion will fall apart.
Still, I can’t bring myself to tell her now.
Not when she smiles at me like that. Not when her shoulders ease around me. Not when I’ve finally found someone who likes me for who I actually am—and not the version everyone tries to use.
So I won’t tell her.
Not yet. Maybe in a week. But not now.
