"I thought I did." The words come easier than expected. "But I don't want to spend my life constantly having to convince employees I'm competent. I don't want to clean up after you, Dad. I'm sorry—I… I don’t say this to be cruel. I really don’t. But you've made a mess. It's not my job to clean it up. I deserve better.”
He studies me as though I’m speaking a language he’s never been taught.
Like I’m a puzzle he’s suddenly desperate to solve.
But that’s not my problem.
I’m good with being a puzzle. Let him stew over the pieces.
Nick studies me with that protective, overbearing intensity I’ve come to love—and also wish he’d tone the hell down. I’m not a kid anymore, no matter how much he wants to wrap me in bubble wrap and guard me from the world.
“You’re sure about this, Hols?” Nick says, his voice careful and measured. “Because you’ve never thought anything could be better than…” His words slow, his eyes narrowing as it finally dawns on him that I’m not looking at him.
I hear him. I really do. His voice is there, saying something protective and brotherly, probably full of good intentions.
But it’s nothing more than background noise now, fading into the hum of the bar.
“I found something better…”
Leaning against the mahogany like it’s his throne, is my future. All sixteen pockets of unapologetic cargo glory and cocky confidence with a lopsided grin that screams,Take a good look guys, that’s my Holly.
It’s not all cockiness, though. There’s relief written on his shoulders, a looseness that wasn’t there before like he finally exhaled after holding his breath for years. The man who’s made a career of doing the right thing—even when it meant doing the hardest, most self-sacrificing thing imaginable—is no longer locked behind a promise eating him alive.
Something I hate that I guilted him into, even if it did lead us here.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” I smile at him, my heart steady. “Well, maybe one thing.”
Don’t get me wrong, there’s still plenty of cocky on display. Enough to have me rolling my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of my head. He’s putting on a masterclass inI told you soand he knows it.
And damn him, it’s working.
“Well, Squirt,” he drawls, amusement dripping from every word, “care to share with the class?”
Nick’s brow furrows. “What? Because you’ve always…” Nick’s gaze swings to Chance before coming back to me “Whoa—wait. Now wait a damn minute!”
Nick goes from frantic toawe hell noin under five seconds. That might be a record for my brother.
"And here," Eve narrates, her phone tracking the unfolding chaos, "we witness the rare sight of a bro code violation in its natural habitat. Note the protective male's increasing distress as he realizes his own tactical error."
“You're turning down the company for the guy who rage-kissed me under the mistletoe?" Nick’s voice rises with theincredulity of a man who just caught the last train to Wrong Conclusion Junction.
“Seriously, Nick? That’s what you’re taking from this?” I pinch the bridge of my nose, praying for divine intervention—or at least a lightning bolt to take him out of his misery. “I’ve never given up anything for a man, and you suddenly think I’m going to start now?”
Charlie snorts into her freshly refilled champagne glass, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don’t worry, Hols. I’ll reboot him later. Maybe clear his browser history while I’m at it.”
"The male appears conflicted," Eve continues, "torn between protective instincts and the awareness of his own hypocrisy. Note the subtle tick in his jaw—a sure sign of impending surrender."
Chance pushes off the bar with a laugh and heads straight for me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like this moment has been written in the stars for years.
He effortlessly tucks me against his side, into him—the place I fit.
The place I belong.
And instead of his usual habit of playing with my hair, he threads his fingers through with purpose, curling around the back of my neck. It’s a move that leaves not one goddamn question in the room about the super-secret network we’ve built this week.
Deep and possessive, his kiss tastes like promise and possibility—and nothing like cleaning up someone else's mess.
"I need therapy," Nick announces to no one in particular. "Man on the ground, my ass. And how much dirty work are we talking, Chance? You know what, don’t answer that. You lied to me. A lot.”
