Chapter 53
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHLOE
S ophie leans over my shoulder, both of us staring at the computer screen.
“Girl, why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.
“He just has his hand on my back.” The weakness of my voice betrays me, even to my own ears.
She snorts. “There’s a polite hand on the back, and then there’s that.” She jabs her finger at the screen, brows rising. “That screams she’s mine—get within three feet of her and I’ll break your arm .”
I pull my head back, widening my eyes at her. It doesn’t faze her.
She laughs, clearly not upset that I’ve been keeping this secret from her. “Come on. I know we’re only work besties, but I feel like I’ve missed out on a ton of juicy gossip.”
“We’re not only anything,” I say, offering her a small smile despite my frayed nerves. “I doubt I would have survived my first day here without you. But there are some things you just can’t share, no matter how much you might want to. Especially at work.”
Now that it looks like our secret might be out, I’m filled with a strange mix of relief and worry. Lying has been taking its toll on me—on both of us—but this isn’t how I wanted it to end. What will Roman do when he sees this? How will he feel?
Sophie hums thoughtfully, then nods. “I get it. So, is it serious?”
I gnaw on my bottom lip, my gaze locked back on the photo. “I think so.”
“When are you going public?”
I blow out a long breath, anxiety settling in my stomach. “I guess it’s already happened. But… there are still complications.”
God, I hope this won’t affect the acquisition. If we lose out, especially to Roger Haverscombe, Roman will be gutted.
Sophie lets out a sympathetic sigh. “Men like that always come with complications. Tell him what you want, Chloe. Your feelings are just as important as his. Don’t push your needs aside. If he cares about you, he needs to step up and show the world.”
Before I can respond, the intercom buzzes and Roman asks me to patch through Sean Prescott.
Sophie raises an eyebrow at the name but says nothing. I was sure Tate was here to talk to Roman about the tabloids, especially after the little wink he gave me on the way into his office, but maybe it really was just business.
Sophie’s the one who found the photos and brought them to my attention, but maybe Roman hasn’t actually seen them yet.
That only makes me more nervous.
Sophie makes me click through a few more sites, each one sharing the same damn photo. Several clicks in, we find a different picture—one taken as we were leaving that same meeting. I swallow. Again, there’s nothing blatantly inappropriate about how we’re touching, but the way I’m smiling up at him? My expression gives away everything I’m feeling.
No woman looks at her boss like that. Not unless there’s something more going on.
“Girl, you’ve got it bad.” Sophie’s voice is softer now.
The door to Roman’s office swings open, and Tate strides out wearing a frown. The expression shifts when he spots me, though his smile is nowhere near his usual easygoing one.
Unease trickles through my veins.
He nods at Sophie, who pats me on the shoulder, and mouths, “We’ll talk later” before hurrying after him.
My heart drums too loudly against my ribs, a sensation scarily reminiscent of the one I felt when Geoff called me in to tell me my fate a few short months ago.
Five minutes later, Roman buzzes me again and asks me to come into his office. Anxiety slides into my bloodstream, thick and cold, and I take a steadying breath before pushing his door open and walking in.
Behind his desk, he sits with his head lowered, shoulders a taut line. By the time I come to a stop in front of him, my legs are actually trembling.
Finally, he looks up at me, his usually clear gray eyes shadowed.
“Are you okay?” I manage to ask with only a faint tremor in my voice. “I saw the photos. I’m sorry. I know this is the last thing you wanted.”
He stands and walks around his desk. “Don’t apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
When he pulls me against him, all my muscles loosen, and I sink into his embrace. But as much as I want to stay there, I don’t linger—too conscious of the unlocked door behind me.
He strokes up and down my arms, his large hands warming me through my blouse. “This obviously isn’t ideal. I would have preferred to go public on our own terms so we could manage the narrative. Thankfully, there’s nothing definitive out there. So until the buzz around Dad’s death fades and the tabloids lose interest, I’ve arranged a position for you at Wright Construction. It’ll keep you out of the spotlight until I can handle the situation.”
The anxiety crawling through my veins turns to ice. What? “You’re moving me?”
He searches my face, lips tugging down at the corners. “You’ll receive the same pay, and the King Group will continue covering your father’s home care.”
The earth shifts beneath me. It takes all my focus not to stumble as I take a step back from him. “That’s not the point. You said my job was safe.”
He rakes his hand through his dark hair, frustration flicking in his eyes. “It is. This is temporary—just until the EcoTech acquisition goes through and things calm down. The media’s looking for a scandal, and I don’t want you caught in the middle of it.”
I shake my head, trying to understand his thought process. But Katherine’s words from the convention echo in my mind, slicing into me like shards of glass. The company will always be Roman’s priority.
Nausea rises in my throat, leaving an acid burn.
The sensation is too familiar. It’s like that day years ago when I realized Mom was gone and she was never coming back. Like the moment I found out that Dad’s illness meant he couldn’t paint any more. Or the day he fell, when I knew he couldn’t live alone any longer.
Once again, the rug is being pulled out from under me.
To Roman, this may seem like a simple solution—no more than a snap of his fingers, a temporary move. But to me, it’s proof of how much I’ve risked. God, how could I have been so stupid, letting my dream of a future with him blind me to reality?
This could so easily be the end of our relationship. Just like that. One decision made, one simple phone call, and it’s over. We haven’t made any real commitments. Despite his assurances, nothing is stopping him from sending me away for good. He says my pay will stay the same, but for how long? If I’m no longer working for him, and if we’re no longer together , how easy would it be for my salary to be cut? He could change his mind about me at any moment, and all the safety and stability I’ve worked so hard for—for Dad and me—would be gone. Tossed aside at someone else’s whim. Again.
“I think…” My breath shudders out of me. “I think maybe we should take a step back.”
His brows slam together. “What?”
I wet my lips, my throat suddenly dry. “Things have gotten complicated. If you need me to take this job, I will. But maybe we should take a break, give ourselves time to figure out what we really want. What we need.”
He steps forward, his throat working, tension radiating from every line of his body. “I want you .”
“Maybe so,” I whisper, my heart clenching painfully. “But do you need me? Because there are things I need, Roman, and I don’t know if you’re ready to give them to me. If you’ll ever be ready.”
His hands go to the back of his neck, gripping tightly, his mouth pressing into a thin line. He doesn’t respond.
“It’s temporary,” I repeat the words he used moments ago. But they feel as flimsy as they sounded when he said them. “Like this move. Maybe… maybe a break would be good for us. Give us time to figure out what’s most important.”
“A break,” he mutters, his voice tight, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. “If that’s what you want.”
It isn’t. Not at all. But I don’t want this either—the uncertainty, the vulnerability, the. Feeling of being at his mercy. I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for, not without a real promise of when things will change—or even if they ever will. I knew this was the risk, and I took it, because I wanted him. Now I’m terrified I made the wrong choice.
Despite the sharp ache in my chest, I pull my shoulders back. “You made me promise that if I ever stopped feeling safe with you, I’d put myself first.”
A shock of pain flashes across his face. “You don’t feel safe?”
Oh god. Is this what putting myself first is supposed to feel like? Like my ribs have been cracked open and I’m being hollowed out from the inside?
I consider taking the words back. I can’t bear to hurt him. But before I can decide, he shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a step away.
“I meant it,” he says, his voice low. “The last thing I want is for you to feel that way.”
I ball my hands into fists, my nails pressing into my palms hard enough to sting. “Who will you get to replace me?”
He gives a sharp shake of his head. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. Sophie and Samson can cover things for now.”
The tightness in my throat grows almost unbearable, the sting at the backs of my eyes intensifying. He’s resolute. He won’t change his mind. The realization hits like a physical blow. “When does my job with Wright Construction start?”
“Tomorrow.” His eyes bore into mine, full of things he’s not saying.
I nod, my breath shuddering out. “I’ll finish the day, then. Unless you want me to leave now?”
He grips my arms and pulls me against him, his hold crushing. “I don’t want you to leave at all.”
The awful thing is, I believe him. But despite how much he wants me, he’ll do what’s best for the company, just as Katherine said he would. I can’t even be angry with him for it. I’ve known his priorities from the start. Still, I somehow convinced myself that maybe they might shift for me. But even with his father gone, Roman is still driven by the need to prove he’s nothing like him. I don’t want to stand in the way of that, no matter how much it hurts.
“I know. And I don’t want to risk everything you’ve worked for.” I press my cheek to his chest, but the frantic thump of his heart does nothing to stop mine from aching so hard I can barely breathe.
For a few short months, I loosened my grip on my responsibilities. But I can’t sit around hoping that someone else will take care of Dad and me. That’s my job. It always has been. Yet I can’t bring myself to completely let go of Roman either. The thought of walking away permanently—of ending this for good—feels like being torn apart from the inside.
Ten years ago, I put down my paintbrush and let go of that dream.
I just wish I knew whether there’s any chance I can hold on to this one.