Page 102 of His Surrender

It feels safe, like, somehow, in the span of an afternoon, I’ve stepped into a life I’ve been dreaming about since I was fifteen.

Dean brushes his fingers slowly up and down my back before letting out a long breath.

“Aubrey?” he says, voice sounding heavy.

“Mmm?”

“Can I tell you something?”

I lift my head to find his expression has changed.

The teasing smile is gone, replaced by the thoughtful look I’ve come to recognize whenever he’s working through something in his head.

“Of course,” I tell him.

His eyes drift toward the windows overlooking Manhattan. “I’ve been trying to figure out if I’ve completely lost my mind.”

A nervous laugh escapes me, as I’m not sure where he’s going with this. “I think we both have.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m serious.”

I wait for him to continue.

“I’ve spent my entire adult life planning everything.” He shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “Five-year business plans. Exit strategies. Contingency plans. Every decision has a dozen backup options. And then”—he looks back at me— “you happened.”

My heart squeezes as I wait for him to clarify.

He continues, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t?” I question, trying not to show the panic that I’m currently feeling.

“I’ve never done anything like this.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve never brought someone into my home like this. I’ve never dated someone who worked for me. I’ve never …” He pauses. “I’ve never cared this quickly.”

I study his face. The confidence that’s always there in the boardroom is gone. This is just Dean. A man trying very hard to do the right thing.

“I keep thinking about how this looks. You’re twenty-two. I’m thirty-four.”

“I know,” I reply, not sure what else to say.

“You live here.”

I nod.

“You’re taking care of my daughter.”

“Dean …”

“And technically,” he says with a frustrated exhale, “you work for me.”

He lets the words hang between us.

“If anyone found out tomorrow”—his jaw tightens— “they’d see a selfish billionaire, sleeping with the woman he employs.”

The sadness in his voice catches me off guard. Not because he’s worried about himself, but because he’s worried about me.

“They’d think I took advantage of you.”

I reach for his hand, threading my fingers through his. “I don’t care what they’d think.”