FIVE
Levi
She’s looking at me like I’ve just turned her life upside down with a few words. I need to remind myself it’s not my place to get that hurt look out of her eyes.
I wasn’t wrong, was I?
She did make herself a non-issue. And now the clause is fulfilled by me marrying Cece.
Fuck. I need to get out of here. Cece’s voice seemed strained over the call. The urgency was biting. Almost as if she knew I was in the presence of an ex-girlfriend.
“I… I better go,” I mumble as I stand up.
She nods, her expression soft with remembered memories, perhaps. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll…” She trails off like this moment shouldn’t even have happened for her.
And I’m feeling torn about why I said any of it.
Realization dawns on me like I’ve been hit by a truck.
Shit, shit, shit.
I just told her about the clause. Something no one outside of my family or Cece’s knows. I doubt Iris would even care about telling anyone. But I know I’ve made a stupid error in sharing it.
“Uh—by the way. The clause is… a need-to-know. I’d appreciate it if—”
“Oh yes, of course.” Surprise flickers across her face. Maybe even hurt, that I’d think she needed reminding. “You don’t have to worry,” she adds quietly. “I’ll keep it to myself.”
I nod, relieved. But that urgency to leave is clawing deeper now. “Right, thanks. I, uh… gotta go. Catch you later.”
I make a quick exit before I can say something else idiotic. But my mind isn’t quiet. It keeps replaying her expression—wide eyes, that tremor in her voice when she heard about the clause.
Her heartbreak felt so obvious. Yet I’m struggling to understand why it was even there.
Shaking my head, I try to erase her from it.
I text Cece that I’ll be there soon and head to my apartment first.
A quick shower later, I decide I’ll work out at her building instead of mine tonight—if I stay over, it’ll keep things simple.
I toss a towel over my shoulder, open the cabinet to grab my protein, and curse under my breath.
I’m running out. Great.
I walk over to the pantry, praying that I made an unconscious effort to stock up but I know I probably haven’t. Then I see it. Two new tubs of my favorite protein.
Thank God!
I mindlessly grab one of the tubs, toss it into my duffel, and head out the door.
Somewhere between the elevator and the garage, I find myself thinking not of Cece—but of Iris. And that look on her face I can’t seem to shake. Like I’m missing something important.
??????
“You’re staying over?” she asks with a small, surprised smile the moment I step in, eyes flicking to the duffel bag in my hand.
I chuckle. “Yes. If that’s okay with you, madam.”
Something flickers in her eyes—too quick to name—before she smiles wider and reaches for the bag, brushing her fingers over mine as she takes it.
I watch her watch me with those hesitant, but beautifully serene eyes. I know something is troubling her. And the restraint becomes too obvious as the evening bleeds into night.
Her apartment is softly lit, her favorite playlist humming low in the background—songs I recognize. Peaceful, but I can’t shake the tension slowly gripping the distance between us.
She’s moving through the kitchen, unpacking my duffel. I follow her, walking up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist. The warmth of her back presses perfectly into me.
She’s staring at the protein tub I packed, gently setting it down on the counter on the far end.
“Is everything okay?” I murmur against the nape of her neck, letting my lips ghost over her skin.
The calmness that had eluded me since the moment Taewon told me about Iris’s return, is back now.
Like Cece’s presence is enough to pull me out of the chaos that this merger is becoming. “You sounded stressed earlier.”
She turns in my arms, her lips curving—then faltering just as fast.
“I wanted to…” she says, trailing off for a beat. “Well, I learned something today. You wanna talk about it after dinner?”
I frown. “Why? What is it?” My heart pounds hard against my chest. Shit.
Did she find out about the Miller-Moore meeting? About Iris? Is that why she called earlier—because she knew I ran into my ex-girlfriend?
I tell myself it was innocent. Professional. Still, guilt creeps up my spine. Not about the meeting. About Iris, and the clause. The one I stupidly let slip to someone who isn’t part of this union.
Cece’s expression shifts as her eyes study my subtle panic. Her hands rise, fingers brushing the back of my neck, settling over my pulse. “Calm,” she whispers, her sweet eyes filling with concern. “It’s not that kind of problem. At least… maybe not yet.”
I exhale, trying to slow the pounding in my chest.
Maybe it’s something else.
“I found discrepancies,” she says, quieter now. “In the Astor Holdings Capital Funds. At first, I thought I messed up running the algorithm. I reran my program twice. But… same thing.”
Shit. Did we finally hit something concrete? “And?” I prompt, though I already feel a sour taste forming.
Because I have a feeling who’s behind this. Even if I’m not ready to admit it yet. Even if pulling my parents down from the professional pedestal I’ve had them on, might turn out to be a career suicide for me.
The old ache creeps back in—the one that’s lived at the base of my spine.
I’ve missed something. I’ve been missing something ruinous. And now, I think I’m getting evidence I’ve been floundering to get since the day I took over the presidency three years ago.
I didn’t have Cece then. Now, I do.
“And…” Cece exhales, fingers still resting against my neck. “Levi, the amount missing is upwards of sixty-five million dollars. And that’s only a few years’ worth of displacement. I think…”
Jesus Christ.
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, huh,” I say, my hands tightening around her waist, dread sinking into my bones. “It’s them.”
She nods, jaw clenched. “I’ve said this before, Levi. You need to remove them, Levi. Your father and Gareth cannot stay on as shareholders through this merger. I don’t have proof, but I think they’ll bankrupt Wentworth in the name of a merger. Make my company the scapegoat.”
God, she’s right.
This level of financial displacement is literally embezzlement 101. But how do we—
“I’ll try to get an investigation in place,” she says, echoing my thoughts. “Something to actually trace it to them. But—”
Then her eyes lift to mine, voice steadier than before. “You still need to divvy up their shares or find a way to gain more yourself. Soon.”
I nod numbly, my throat working on a dry swallow.
This isn’t how I thought today would go. But I can’t keep ignoring the signs.
I’ve known for a while that my father and his brother have been far too involved, far too vocal about this merger.
At first, they were all for it. Smiling at the press, toasted our success, but lately? They’ve placed roadblocks. Small ones. Quiet ones. But enough that I find it almost deliberate.
Now, with what Cece has found? It’s not just suspicion. It’s something I can actually act on. Base an investigation out of. Especially if upwards of sixty-five million dollars have vanished into thin air.
I sigh. “I guess I owe Thomas and Gareth Astor a visit.”
Her hands squeeze my shoulders gently. “Don’t say anything to give it away.”
“I won’t,” I assure her, gently tightening my hold on her waist. “But I need to know exactly how many other ways they are going to sabotage this merger.”
“It’s going to be fine, Levi,” she says softly, and I almost believe her mellow voice.
Almost.
Then she rises on her tiptoes, hesitating for the briefest second, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. It’s barely there—but it detonates something in my chest.
I deepen it before I can think, before I can stop myself. My hands slide to her jaw, then her lower back, pulling her flush against me. The kiss lingers, her mouth warm and sweet against mine.
She’s kissing me back with the same fervor.
God, she tastes like something I could believe in. Like this moment will somehow dispel the guilt around my encounter with Iris.
My heart pounds erratically, my entire body screaming to tell her—tell her the truth. How my past has come back. That she might share a conference room with her, without even knowing.
Fuck.
But also… tell Cece the three words I’ve been initiating for almost two months. Unable to comprehend whether she believes them. Or if I believe her—when she returns them.
As I pull back, her forehead resting against mine, I say nothing. This time those words stay buried, lodged deep in my throat.
Not because I don’t feel it. I do. But because I don’t know if she does. And just like always, she doesn’t offer them either.