Her voice shook, just slightly. She covered it fast, but I caught it. And it hit me right in the centre of my chest like a punch.
"You hate what I mean?" I asked, leaning back.
One of her shoulders lifted, as her hands slipped to her lap. "A little, yeah."
“Why?" I stood up from the chair and paced, not taking my eyes off her as she shrugged. Which was how I saw her keep what she wanted to say locked away. So I stepped toward her, "Do you think that makes you weak? Needing someone to watch over you?”
Her shoulders lifted again, her eyes fixed on her dangling legs. “I think it makes me someone who built her entire life trying to prove that she only needed herself to survive, when in actual fact, she had no chance.”
That landed harder than I expected, like an bullet straight to the heart.
Because I get it. God, did I get it.
“You’re not weak,” I reminded her, because I needed her to know that. “Being smart enough to know when you’re in danger isn’t a weakness. It’s survival.”
She folded her arms, like she was trying to close in on herself. “But I don’t want to survive anymore. I’m sick of just surviving." For the first time in a while, she looked right at me, and it was looking at amber glass caught in the sunlight. "I want to live. I want to go to work and eat sugar and argue with Daisy about her playlists and not jump every time a message pops up on my phone.”
“You will,” I promised. “You will again.”
A helpless laugh stuttered out of her, as her hands lifted and collapsed back into her lap. “And until then?”
As I wandered closer towards her, the corner of my mouth tugged up, casual, like I hadn’t been waiting for that question. “You have me.”
Her brows pulled in, defiant, but I could tell she didn’t want to be. “And why is that?" Her head jutted forward. "Because… what? You love this job? You can't say no? You care about me?”
Because I’ve watched this play before, and I hated the ending.
I nodded once, keeping the truth behind my back as I handed her something prettier. “I care about every Romano client. Including you.” My voice stayed even, professional, though my chest betrayed me. “I care about your safety, your well-being, your peace of mind… everything, Cora.”
Her stare held steady, unflinching as I reached her, close enough to count the glints in her eyes. “I don’t think Jamie cared about all that.”
His name scraped against my ribs, but I let it pass, my focus chained to her. “Knowing what I know now… I think you’re right.” My voice steadied, and as her eyes dropped from mine, I ducked my head, catching that stare again. “But that’s changed. You need to know that. I’ll be here for anything you need, at least until you’re ready to conquer the world on your own again.”
A flicker of a smile touched her mouth. “On my own.”
But until then, she had me. Whether she wanted me or not.
And maybe, if the way she wasn't tearing her gaze away from me right now said anything, if the way her eyes weren’t guarded by that veil she always kept there, she was starting to want me.
Her body shifted, the edge of her sleeve brushing against my wrist. Neither of us pulled away. But something softened in her face then—not fear, not pity. Something else. Something that made it hard to breathe. For the second time since being around her, she wasn’t looking at me as a shield, or a wall, or a weapon. She was looking at me like I was a person. Just me.
She eyed me, deadpan. “I’m sorry, is my being stalked funny to you?”
I blinked. I hadn’t even realised I was smiling.
My head dropped slightly as I shook it. “Of course not.”
“Then what’s with the look?” she pressed, one brow raised. “If you’re not scowling, how is the world supposed to keep turning?”
She could pretend to hate me all she wanted, but I knew better. It was in the way she was looking at me now. In the flicker of something softer behind her sarcasm. In the way her breath caught for just a second too long.
She didn’t hate me.
She was trusting me.
And maybe I was screwed, because that just made my entire damn day.
I cleared my throat as my smile stayed put, stepping aside with the most professional gesture I could muster. “Come on, get Rory and let’s get out of here.”
