Page 13 of The Billionaire's Secret Desire
My throat tightens, and for a second, I can’t get the words out. They stick, like they don’t want to be spoken—like admitting it makes the shame real all over again. I bite my lip, willing myself not to cry, not here, not in front of Sawyer and Kendall. But Kendall’s eyes are so full of fierce, protective love it cracks something wide open in me.
“Okay,” I whisper, voice barely steady. “Deal.” I take a breath, shaky and shallow, and force the rest out, voice thick with emotion. “And Kendall… I’m sorry I lied.”
“I get it,” she says, her voice firm, but not unkind. Then she steps forward and wraps her arms around me in a fierce hug, the kind that says she’s not just angry—she is scared for me. It knocks the breath out of me in the best way. I hug her back just as hard, burying my face against her shoulder as the last bit of tension drains from my spine. Then, softer, close to my ear, she says, “But don’t lie to me again.”
“I won’t,” I whisper.
Then she turns to Sawyer, already shifting into business mode. “Now let’s talk about that housing project.”
I watch them walk toward the back office, my chest still tight, but just a little lighter. The weight of secrets didn’t vanish—it shifted, settled into something softer. Not quite comfort, not yet. But trust, maybe. A place to land, even if it’s temporary.
Chapter 5
Sawyer
Idon’t know exactly when the shift happened—maybe it was the first time Ghost abandoned my side to curl up against Charli on the couch like they’d known each other forever—but something in my own damn house has changed. The rhythm is different. The air feels warmer, like it’s carrying something new, something unspoken but tangible. My space doesn’t just look different—itfeelsdifferent. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t rattle me.
Case in point? I’m currently sitting in a lounger beside my pool, watching my hundred-and-twenty-pound Doberman float blissfully on an inflatable raft next to Charli. That traitorous mutt climbed on with her the second Charli slipped into the water, and now the two of them are basking in the late afternoon sun like they’re vacationing royalty.
And me?
I’m off to the side, nursing a bottle of water, trying very hard not to notice how incredible Charli looks in that bikini—sun-kissed skin, damp curls trailing down her back, legs that go on for days—and wondering how the hell I got edged out of my own dog's affections by a woman who’s only been living here a few days. Ghost is draped across her like some loyal furry throneaccessory, completely smitten, while I’m over here pretending to care more about hydration than the way Charli’s laughter skips across the water like a warm breeze.
"She likes me better," Charli says without even opening her eyes, like she can read my mind. Her voice is smug and just this side of a taunt.
I grunt, trying not to let my eyes stray below her neckline. "She doesn’t like you better. She likes whoever feeds her bacon," I mutter, glaring at the dog like she’s betrayed me on a deeply personal level... 'cuz she has.
Charli cracks one eye open and turns her head toward me, the corner of her mouth tugging upward in that slow, knowing smile of hers. "I made breakfast and suddenly I’m the heir to the estate? Calm down, Gallo."
"She was my dog first," I mutter. "My shadow. Now she follows you around like you're her emotional support human."
"Maybe you should work on your emotional support skills."
I shoot her a look. She just beams and runs a hand through Ghost’s fur as the raft bobs slightly on the water. The dog lets out a contented huff and rests her head on Charli’s thigh like she belongs there.
I rub a hand over the back of my neck and try to tell myself this isn’t getting under my skin. But it is. Since when do I lounge by the pool? I’m a workaholic, and here I am just sitting here, watching her like I don’t have a thousand things on my calendar that suddenly don’t matter. What the hell is happening to me?
It’s not just the dog that seems to have changed. It’severything.
Charli hums when she moves through the kitchen now. She rearranged the spice drawer and had the audacity to label things. There’s a chalkboard menu by the fridge I didn’t authorize, and I caught her using my outdoor grill like it was part of her morningritual. You don't touch a man's grill. It's sacred ground. You just don't.
She’s not just staying here. She’sinhabitingmy life. And part of me—a stupid, reckless part I can’t quite shut off—likes it. Which is the problem.
She thinks she’s a burden saying that if she stays too long or takes up too much space, I’ll kick her out like she overstayed her welcome. So, she keeps trying to make herself smaller. More invisible. Like slipping through the cracks is a skill she perfected somewhere between survival and surrender.
But the thing is, I see her. And that’s the problem, too.
I see her taking her coffee out back in the early mornings before the sun rises, sitting cross-legged on a yoga mat doing yoga, her hair still messy from sleep. Sometimes she hums under her breath, just softly enough that I can’t make out the tune. I see the way she tucks in when she laughs—like she doesn’t trust it yet. Like joy is something that might get taken away if she lets herself enjoy it too much. She’s always got that notebook. And there’s this look on her face sometimes—soft, focused, far away—that makes me want to sit down beside her and ask what she’s writing, even though I never do.
And I hate she thinks she doesn’t belong here.
Charli swings her legs over the side of the raft and slips into the pool. Ghost, ever loyal to her new favorite person, paddles behind her. Water glistens on Charli’s skin, and I force my eyes to stay above her shoulders, because the last thing I need is to complicate things with lust when everything else already feels like a loaded wire.
She grabs a towel off the edge and wraps it around herself, squeezing water from her hair. Then she sinks down beside me on the edge of the pool, her skin still glistening in the sun, droplets tracing down her arms. She exhales a soft, contentbreath like the world’s weight has eased—if only for a moment—and leans her head back against her arms without saying a word.
We sit there for a minute in silence, nothing but the hum of cicadas and the ripple of the pool between us. I should leave it there. Should just let the silence win. But I can’t.
"You act like you're in the way. You know you're not, right?"
