Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Damn it. I’d asked Hazel not to tell Miles, but I hadn’t thought to extend that request to my other overprotective brother.
“I was a complete asshole,” Simon continued, his voice low and rough. “And I’m sorry.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. Despite how wrecked he looked, despite the regret written plainly on his face, I wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He didn’t get to show up at my door looking like a man who’d lost everything and expect me to just… forgive him. Not after what he’d said. Not after the way he’d made me feel.
I jutted my chin out. “That’s not good enough.”
The words came out steady, but inside, my blood was rushing in my ears. I’d never been someone who got angry easily. I preferred to smooth things over, find the bright side, let things go. But this? This was different. Simon had taken my insecurities, my vulnerabilities, everything I’d trusted him with, and he’d used them as weapons. How dare he think he could just push his way into my home and say he was sorry, as if that would erase the devastation he’d left in his wake?
“Please.” There it was again, that word that seemed to cost him something to say. He took a step toward me, and I held my ground, refusing to retreat. “Just give me ten minutes.”
I let out a slow breath, warring with myself. The anger was still there, hot and justified, but beneath it was something else. Curiosity, maybe. Or the stubborn hope that I couldn’t quite extinguish, no matter how hard I tried.
If I sent him away now, I’d always wonder what he would have said.
“You can have five minutes.”
I was being petty, and I didn’t care. Simon nodded anyway, relief washing over his features. He gestured toward the chair, and I sat, deliberately choosing the armchair instead of the couch so he couldn’t position himself beside me.
But Simon apparently had no interest in distance. He lowered himself onto the coffee table directly in front of me, close enough that our knees nearly touched. His elbows rested on his thighs as he leaned forward, closing the space between us until I could see every line of exhaustion on his face, every shadow of regret in his eyes.
“I’ve never told you why I’ve had such a hard time keeping assistants,” he said.
I arched an eyebrow. “I assumed it was your winning personality.”
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile, but not quite. “When Liam and I opened the investment firm, I hired an assistant named Carla. On paper, she was more than qualified, with a business degree and years of experience as an executive assistant. I really thought I’d learned my lesson about trusting the wrong people after what happened with Chuck,” Simon continued, his gaze dropping to his hands before lifting back up to me. “But I convinced myself Carla was different. That she was capable. Then, a few months after we launched, she sent an email with confidential financial information to the wrong person. She didn’t just blow the deal, she violated the NDA we’d signed. Liam had to use every ounce of charm he possessed to keep us from being sued.”
He paused, and I watched the tension ripple through his shoulders.
“We’d barely even gotten started, and our business was almost destroyed. Because I trusted the wrong person. Again.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “After that, I couldn’t bring myself to depend on anyone. I kept finding fault with every assistant who came through because it was easier than trusting them or risking that kind of failure again.”
The anger in my chest shifted, making room for something more complicated. Understanding, maybe. It didn’t excuse what he’d done, but I was starting to see the shape of his fears more clearly. The pattern of betrayal that had taught him trust was dangerous. The walls he’d built to protect himself from ever feeling that vulnerable again.
He wasn’t a villain. He was a wounded man who’d let his scars dictate his reactions. That didn’t make it okay. But it made it… comprehensible.
“I promised myself I’d never fully trust anyone in business again,” Simon said quietly. “Convinced myself I was better off doing everything alone. And I did. For years, I did.” His eyes held mine, and the raw honesty in them made my breath catch. “Until you came along and knocked down every wall I’d built. With your sunshine personality and your ridiculous fake dating scheme and the way you made me want to let someone in again, but on a more personal level.”
He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and took one of my hands in both of his when I didn’t. His fingers traced over my knuckles, the touch almost reverent.