Page 35 of After-Hours Heir

“Can you imagine raising a child where you live?” she asked.

“Not long-term. But we will discuss the best places for the child to spend more of their time.”

“You’re willing to plan all this out, but choosing a child-appropriate home is a bridge too far for you?”

He ignored her. “As for now, it will make the most sense for us to reside in the city.”

Everything was happening so quickly, and she didn’t know why she ought to be surprised. Except it was…it was impossibleto marry the image that she’d had of her lover with the reality of him.

It hurt. It hurt, and even though she knew she couldn’t hurt him she had to do something with the pain, the poison rising inside her now. She hated him then as much as she’d thought she’d loved him and she was very, very clear Christos and her mystery lover were one in the same. Because the betrayal felt so sharp. So real right there.

She might not be able to hurt him, but she’d swing at him anyway.

“I wish I hadn’t found your phone that night. You know, what’s really funny is I remember I ran into you that night. And you were an ass. Making it very plain that you were intent on acquiring the company. My father had died six months earlier, and you didn’t express any sympathy. And then I found that phone, and I reached out to the person who owned it. And he responded to me. With empathy. He gave me someone to talk to. I think the worst part about finding out that it’s you is knowing that none of that was real. Becauselook at you. You’re made of stone. You don’t have any feelings. You’re…you’re awful.”

“Trying to hurt me again?”

But there was something in his gaze. Something different. Something that seemed to suggest he didn’t feel nothing about what she had said.

“I’m not stupid enough to think that I can hurt a rock wall. If I fling myself at it, I’m only going to end up injured.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth. That it was me. And that it was you.”

The words were strange, uncharacteristic, really.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know.”

She felt slightly run-over by the statement. But it didn’t get any better, because after that she found herself being propelled from her office and toward the elevator.

“You know everyone thinks that I slept with you to stop the acquisition.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. In the way that it completely compromises any integrity that I might’ve had.” She let her head fall back against the elevator. “You know, it was you I was talking about. Whenever I texted you, and I was talking about difficulties at work.”

She looked at his expression, to try and see if that affected him in any way.

“I imagine I would find that funny if…” He trailed off.

She frowned. “You would find it funny if what?”

“I don’t know. If I found things funny.”

“Why are you such a godawful prick?”

She was angry. And she was getting really tired of his nonsense. He was just… He expected people to just accept him as he was. Because he was Christos Onassis and he was a villain and blah-blah-blah allusions to his inner darkness.

But she didn’t have to accept it.

“Does there have to be awhyfor everything?” he asked.

“I tend to assume that there is,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because. Because I am desperately insecure. Because my mother is a polished socialite who thinks nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels, and who constantly victimizes me with her cutting statements about both my appearance and my value system. And that is why I didn’t want to meet you in person. Then there’s my father, who was the only parent really involved in raising me, and he was wonderful. He loved me. And he loved this place. And I can’t separate those things out. If I want to continue to be worthy of his love, of the legacy he left me, I haveto say that, don’t I? And if I can’t, I’m everything my mother thought I was, and nothing that my father hoped I would be. So yes. I think we all come from somewhere.”