Page 85 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
Confirmation that I’ll be filthy rich very soon and that puts me in charge of my destiny like never before.
Fairfax will probably offer plenty.
That could be it, the end of the line for this adventure, for Holden and me.
Enough to set me up for the rest of my life. I don’t need the final numbers to know it.
I won’t need to work again or chase side jobs just to survive.
Gramps did that for me. He did it knowing how much I’ve always wanted to be an artist and how I wouldn’t make Dad’s mistakes.
I bury my head in a throw pillow, realizing too late that it’s the same one Holden held against him. It still smells like him.
Shamelessly, I inhale it.
What the ever-loving hell is happening?
I rip the pillow away from my face and frown.
I donothave a thing for him. Not like an actual thing.
A crush is one thing.
I’ve crushed on guys like Henry Cavill and Jon Hamm. Older men with muscles and attitudes on screens. How shocking.
But abstract crushes aren’t the same as feelings for a man who’s up close and personal.
I’m getting emotional over the man who used to enforce my curfews and who’d watch my doors and windows.
He hid my car keys.
He made boundaries feel like a curse.
He saved me from myself.
We’re not supposed to be invested. We’re just working together becausewe have to.
I should be overjoyed. So pumped about any future I can imagine that I can’t think about anything else. All my wildest dreams are just one little big sale and some publicity away.
So, why does it feel like I’m losing?
Why does it feel like there’s a missing piece just drifting away?
The rideto the airport is predictably awkward.
At the penthouse, I just about managed to avoid him, but it’s harder when we’re fighting through the evening traffic in a silent car.
It’s bonkers how much the whole world can tilt on its axis in just a few days.
When we arrived in New York, I never dreamed I’d kiss him.
Never imagined we’d look at each other as more than control freak cavebear and spoiled art brat.
His gaze slides over, then away again.
I hate that I wonder what he sees now. Screw art brat, I must look like an overly emotional little tease who couldn’t keep her hands and lips to herself.
This would be a great time to talk about it, I guess. But God, where do I begin without dying?
