Page 54 of Enticing My Off Limits Billionaire

"And he broke a very, very big rule when he crossed that boundary," Delia says. "Just...it sounds fucked up. Be careful."

"Now you're telling me to be careful?" I snort. "A little late."

"Because I'm your boss, that's why," Delia scolds. "And I don't want you getting hurt. I think you're perfect for each other, but it could be hell on earth."

"I know," I say. I take a moment, then I ask, "Do you think it'll work?"

Delia presses her fingers to her lips, and her brows furrow. "You're asking a hopeless romantic who literally has money riding on your relationship succeeding," she says. "It might be hard for me to give you an objective opinion."

I sigh and nod. "I just want to know."

She finally looks at me again, and she grins. "It might," she says. "But I know you have a lot to work out."

"Yeah," I nod. "You're not wrong."

"Well, you can always call if you want advice," she says. "Not that I'm good for it."

A clock chimes, and I look up to see an antique grandfather clock telling me that it's already almost noon. I stand up and bring my plate over to the sink, setting it down and then gesturing at the stairs.

"I should get packed, too," I say. "I'll keep you posted."

"Please do," Delia says from where she's still sitting at the table. "This is better than television."

"Wow, thanks."

"If I can say one thing for myself, it's that I'm honest," she laughs. "Good luck, Quinn."

I'm not sure what she's talking about—Madison, Gavin, or any of the other things going on in my life—but I thank her anyway.

Because I'm confident that, eventually, I'm going to need it.

Chapter seventeen

Madison

QuinnandIsaidwe should talk about my dad, that we would figure out how to break the news to him and to Kylie and also Ryan...but we're too wrapped up in each other to bother.

I keep my hand in Quinn's the whole drive back from Salem, and we end up talking not about our fucked up interpersonal situation but about our futures. We discuss when we'll see each other again, if I can bring some stuff over...how we met, who we are together. Quinn keeps pulling my hand up to his lips to brush kisses to my knuckles.

I can't stop saying I love him.

I won't ever get tired of him saying it to me.

I'm blushing like a lovestruck kid when he finally drops me off at my apartment, wondering if I'll give up on finishing the paper at home and just go over to his place instead. I've basically made up my mind to go inside, grab my stuff, and take the subway over as I take the elevator up...

...only to find someone I wasn't expecting at my front door.

Kylie.

She's standing there wearing an oversized fluffy sweater, her brown hair in a messy bun and her cheeks streaked with tears. She looks up at me with red eyes as I stop dead in my tracks, my suitcase slipping from my fingers.

"Ky?" I whisper. "What did he do?"

My dad had to have made her like this—sobbing at my front door. The last time she showed up like this, it was because of something he'd done, and I have to guess that he's fucked up again.

"Who?" she says, her brow furrowed.

"My dad," I mutter, coming closer. "What did he do?"

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