And there it is, that irrational twist of jealousy in my chest that I have absolutely no right to feel.
Because of course Nico knows her.
Of course he’s met some gorgeous, talented artist who creates transcendent abstract paintings that hang in billionaire penthouses.
Of course he spent six months negotiating for her work, which probably means six months of conversations and meetings and—
Stop it.
“You’ve met her?” I ask, trying to sound casual and probably failing spectacularly.
“Once. At a charity dinner two years ago.” He’s still looking at the painting, not at me. “She and Gideon were there together.”
“She sounds impressive,” I say, and wow, even I can hear the weird edge in my voice.
Nico turns to look at me then, and something knowing flickers across his face. “She is. So is Gideon.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice has become thoughtful. “Watching them together. The way he looks at her, the way she challenges him, the way they’ve built something that’s theirs despite their differences, despite the class gap—” He breaks off, shaking his head slightly. “That’s what I admire most. The partnership. What they created together.”
Oh.
The jealousy drains out of me so fast I feel lightheaded. Because that’s not admiration for another woman. That’s... hope. A man looking at what someone else built and wondering if he could have it, too.
We end up on the massive leather couch, the city sparkling beyond the windows. I’ve changed into one of his t-shirts because my blouse smelled like fourteen hours of stress sweat, and he’s now in gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips.
Don’t look at his hips.
Don’t look...
“You know,” he says suddenly,breaking the comfortable silence, “my older brother Dom and I had a falling out, once.”
I blink at him. That’s... not where I expected this conversation to go.
“A bad one,” he continues, staring at the city lights beyond the windows like they might have answers. “Took us years to get past it. When he finally tried to reconcile by giving me the money I needed to start this company, part of me felt like he owed me.” His laugh is bitter. “Some times I wonder if... everything I built was really his guilt paying dividends.”
“It wasn’t,” I say, because you don’t build a billion-dollar company on money or guilt alone.
Do you?
“No,” he agrees. “His gift was leverage. What I built afterward was mine.” He looks at me then, and the vulnerability in his eyes breaks my heart. “I’m still working on believing that.”
My fingers find his hand before I realize I’m moving.
Say something.
Something helpful and wise and—
“You’re allowed to accept help and still own your success,” I tell him. “Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Aren’t they?” His voice drops. “I keep telling myself I’m waiting to credit you publicly because of the gossip. Because acknowledging your work would make things worse for you at the office.” He looks at our joined hands. “But maybe I’m just terrified to admit I needed you. That the solution came from my secretary, not me. That my ego can’t handle owing you the way Dom owed me.”
Oh.
Oh, that’s—
The raw honesty in his voice just takes me aback, and I don’t know what to say.
Oh, Nico.
“For what it’s worth,” I say quietly, “I think you saved yourself. Dom gave you a tool.Youbuilt the empire.”
