Page 54 of Sealing the Deal

“I know,” I whisper. My throat tightens again. “But I failed Ana. And I was too busy making money and building my own life away from my father to protect Helena. When I came back to New York, I swore I’d never bring another person into my life. Never risk someone else being hurt because they stood too close to me.”

“But that was five years ago,” Flic says.

I nod.

Her brows lifts. “So, you haven’t… for five years?”

A rough laugh escapes me as I shake my head.

She studies me and I meet her gaze. It feels nothing like the charged heat of the elevator. This is deeper, and somehow more dangerous. I’ve shown Flic the ugliest corners of my life and she hasn’t recoiled or run, even though she should. Instead, she’s stayed. And that terrifies me more than any boardroom or stadium ever could. Because however much I want her—however much I ache to touch her, to show her all the ways I could make her happy—I still can’t risk her being collateral damage in my life.

Five years is a long time. But I would go a lifetime if it meant keeping her from being hurt.

TWENTY-FOUR

FLIC

IZZY: I’m starting to think I’ll be pregnant forever. How’s New York?

FLIC: Interesting and complicated.

IZZY: I was expecting you to say you were in Grayson’s bed.

FLIC: What???

IZZY: Oh come on. There were literal sparks flying between the two of you at lunch last week.

FLIC: No comment.

IZZY: You’ve probably forgotten what sex is, anyway.

FLIC: I have not forgotten, thank you very much.

IZZY: So that’s a no to being in Grayson’s bed, then.

FLIC: Shut up.

I’m standing in Grayson’s kitchen with a mug of coffee cradled in both hands, watching the morning sun stretch over the city.

Kitchen doesn’t really cover the room around me. This space is bigger than my entire apartment. High ceilings, marble counters, warm wood cabinets, a dining table that could seat half the Stormhawks team. Everything is solid and carefully curated. And expensive. I know I should feel uncomfortable. I’ve been telling myself since I stepped onto the jet on that first trip to Buffalo that I don’t belong in Grayson’s world. It’s still true, but God, I love this kitchen. Somehow it still feels lived in. There are saucepans hanging from a rack, and when I cooked Ana a simple pasta dish last night, I found plenty of ingredients. This is a kitchen that’s used for more than making coffee and staring out at the city. Even if it’s pretty good for that, too.

I yawn deeply and take a long sip. It’s strong and bitter and carries the kick I need. It was late by the time Grayson and I were done talking. My mind was spinning with everything he’d told me about his life and his reasons for returning to New York. Even when I tried to sleep, I felt like I was listening for movement from Ana. If she woke, hungover and regretful, I wanted to be there before she left again. I’m not sure what help I could’ve been, but I wanted to make sure she was OK, if nothing else. I meant what I said last night. Not everyone wants to be saved. And not everyone is ready to accept help. I hope this time Ana is. She didn’t run last night. There’s that, at least.

Footsteps sound behind me, and I turn to see Grayson in the doorway, rubbing a hand over his face like he didn’t sleep much either, probably for the same reason as me. He’s wearing a dark V-neck sweater that clings to his chest and arms in a way that feels wildly unfair. His hair is mussed, his jaw shadowed with stubble. He looks wrecked, but also devastatingly good. Good enough that, for one reckless second, I want to cross the space between us. Press my body to his. Feel the heat of him under my hands. Brush my lips to the skin at his neck and breathe in the scent of him that does unspeakable things to my insides.

Instead, I drop my gaze to my mug and take another sip of coffee, because it feels like everything changed in one night. Even if it stung at first to discover he was married, I understand Grayson much more now. From the dinner with his father, to Ana, and everything he told me last night. It’s still staggering to me that a father could go to such lengths to manipulate their children’s lives.

I know with certainty that Grayson is good. He wants to do the right thing for everyone. But everything feels suddenly so complicated. The want I have for this man is simple, but everything around us is a tangled mess. His life is rooted in New York with his sister and his board seat for Ashborne Holdings and his projects with Grayson Global. He can’t give that up.

My life is just as rooted in Denver with my bar and the Sullivans. It isn’t just different worlds and drastically different lifestyles. It’s different time zones. Even if we had a lifetime, I don’t think we could figure it out. And we have less than two weeks before our deal is up. After that, we’ll have no reason to see each other anymore. It’s too messy. And I’m not the kind of person who jumps into anything without seeing exactly where I’m going to land.

“Ana got in the car OK?” I ask, holding his gaze as I pass him a mug.

He nods, fingers wrapping around it like he needs the heat. “Thank you.” He takes a grateful sip. “It doesn’t mean she’ll get on the plane or check into the treatment center. But the fact she signed the divorce papers, and knows rehab is the only way she’ll get any more money from me, is hopefully enough incentive.”

He leans back against the counter, shoulders slumping just a little.

“She did take the jet, though. Which means I can either book us two flights back to Denver this morning. Or…” He hesitates, eyes flicking to mine. “If you don’t have to get back right away, I thought I could show you something while we’re here. We could fly home tomorrow. With the time difference, we’d still be back mid-morning.”