Chapter 9 #3
“If anyone ever knew his shit, it’s Leonidas Blackthorn.
” Holden presses back into the sofa, grabbing another slice off his plate.
“There’s zero chance he left you an underwhelming inheritance.
I watched him run circles around the biggest geniuses in real estate more times than I could count.
No one ever would’ve pulled one over on the old man. ”
Very true.
I love how easy it is for Holden to find the magic words to make me feel better. I don’t understand how he does it so effortlessly.
“What if it wasn’t his fault, though? I’m sure he did some checking, but he never had it looked at or appraised by an expert. Not that we know anyway.”
Holden shrugs. “Then he made an honest mistake. I don’t think he did. He knew what he was doing, and you meant too much for him to risk you running around on anything less than a sure thing. Hell, I’d like to think he wouldn’t send me on a wild goose chase either, but…”
He doesn’t finish that thought.
I smile.
I get up and refill my wineglass.
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or Holden, but my nerves dull, draining from my system.
The pizza helps a lot. When I’m hungry, I’m only half human.
He hands me a third slice without asking, and I take a big bite.
“What about you?” I ask with my mouth full. “He must’ve left you something good?”
“Close enough.”
“What does that mean?” I press. “You’re still on payroll, right?”
He nods slowly. I can practically see his hesitation, avoiding saying too much, but why?
Never a man of impulse.
“He left me a decent payday,” he says. “Enough for my family. That’s all that matters after this gig.
Kit, she’s bright, and she deserves the best college she can get into.
Whatever she chooses. My folks are old, and they’ve got their health issues.
Nothing wrong with having a little backup there for a rainy day.
I just have to finish this job to collect it. ”
I’m touched.
“That’s a little disappointing.” I press a hand to my chest like I’m wounded, my voice lilting. “You mean this isn’t a favor for little old me?”
His eyes glaze over.
The death stare makes me laugh.
“We both know you’ll miss me someday,” I say.
“If it helps you to think that, Nile, be my guest. Can’t wait for you to run off and make some other boy bald with stress,” he growls. But his eyes soften and he looks back at me, sipping his wine. “I’ll miss today. That museum field trip wasn’t half-bad, even if you walked us into a porno flick.”
My throat squeaks when I swallow.
I’m so flipping close to spraying wine all over the fancy carpet.
I just throw back a death stare of my own as Holden Hardass chuckles.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I wake up around midnight with a cotton mouth and achy head, there are memories.
Vague memories of passing out on the sofa in front of a Netflix comedy and strong arms sweeping me up. Holden carrying me to the bedroom.
Me, fighting like a drowsy kitten, slurring my words. “Jusss put me on the floor. I’ll… I’ll manage.”
“Don’t be silly. The bed’s big enough for two,” he’d growled back.
I didn’t have it in me to fight. Just like I couldn’t say no to polishing off that wine bottle, lightweight that I am. I also suck at drinking water when I travel.
Holden’s sleeping next to me now, his breath coming in deep, heavy waves.
The room is dim. I rub my eyes and roll over to check my phone.
Nothing.
No surprise. Fairfax wouldn’t bother in the middle of the night.
I try to ignore the way my gut wrenches, my heart thudding against my ribs.
Holden was right. There might be a million reasons why Fairfax hasn’t called, and they’re not all bad.
Still, I can’t stop my brain from cycling through worst-case scenarios.
There are so many things that could still go wrong. Holden admitted that, too.
Somehow, hearing him agree was comforting.
So was the way he fed me. He looked after me today. He went above and beyond the duties of any basic bodyguard forced on me by Gramps’ will.
Moving slowly, haltingly, I crane my face up to look at him.
Just a small peek.
This bed feels like a sea of cotton, big enough for both of us, but he still takes up a lot of space. He sprawls out like a lion when he goes into deep sleep, gracefully asserting his presence, even unconscious.
I smile. Not like I can hold it against him.
Most people look goofy in their sleep. I know I curl up like a little hamster, and sometimes I drool.
Supposedly, I snore.
Not sure I believe that—I don’t want to—and I’m pretty sure someone else would’ve mentioned it by now.
Dad has sleep apnea and I hope it doesn’t run in the family. Won’t that be a fun new addition to my dating life?
Having to worry about strapping a hose to my face whenever I spend a night with guys.
Ugh.
But Holden, he’s different.
He just can’t have any physical flaws. Even when he’s asleep, he looks fire.
Zero softness, yet somehow graceful.
He must put in serious time to stay this sculpted. If I wasn’t a little obsessive with details, I never would’ve noticed his knee pain.
What he said at The Met keeps running through my mind. The way he spoke about his family, clearly his top priority.
Such willingness to do whatever it takes to protect them, to provide for his little girl and his parents.
I bet PopPop left him enough to make that happen. He was always generous with his employees.
For Holden, that’s all that counts.
Enough for his people.
Not enough for him. That never seems to enter the equation.
I prop myself up on my pillow now, gazing down at his face, still cast in liquid darkness.
The strong bridge of his nose, his square jaw, the slight scar above his eye.
He’s so big he might fall off the bed if he was turned the other way.
His bulging biceps remind me how easily he could throw me around.
Oh, this is bad.
Sure, he can be cold and rude and awful. But tonight, he’s so warm and peaceful. Today, he’s been real.
His body heat soaks through the bed into me. Or else I’m imagining it does.
It’s been an emotional rocket ride of a day, going from making up over breakfast to our little not-date at The Met, and now this.
Waking up beside him with a pathetic hangover.
I’m not sure if it’s the hangover or the temperature in here, but I shiver in the chill night air.
Do I dare?
I shift closer.
Somehow, being next to him, touching him, feels like curling up beside a roaring fire. Everything I need right now.
He doesn’t stir as I rest my head on his shoulder so gently.
The craziest part of today was how the museum trip felt like a date. Better than any date I’ve had in years, hands down.
Bad, bad thoughts.
I didn’t realize how horny I was, I guess.
I’ve been too busy and tired for a no-frills hookup for months.
Apparently, that makes me susceptible to intrusive sexy thoughts about him.
Bonkers.
Holden Verity, who’s too old, too frigid, and not remotely interested. I think he’d rather immolate himself than kiss me.
We’ve had a rough time over the years, and now that I’m grown, it’s harder. Talking to him like a grown man instead of a pesky extension of Gramps’ authority, that’s new, too.
We’re still practically strangers—two opposites sharing a life out of convenience, just like this bed.
But with his wall of a body next to mine, it’s balmy enough to go back to sleep, if I can just ignore how hot and bothered I am.
Man.
Let me enjoy the paradox.
Let me bask in his closeness and warmth for a little while longer. Before I flop to the other side of the bed and try to stop fantasizing about what it might be like if we were two very different people.
If Holden woke up right now, felt me, and pulled me into those seething arms…
If he claimed my lips.
If he growled in my ear and pushed my legs apart.
Please.
Please humor me, Mr. Verity, for just a little while longer.