“Daniel—”
“It was what the situation required. Nothingmore.”
He’s lying. I can see it in the tension of his shoulders. He won’t even meet my eyes.
“You can lie to Cassidy,” I say quietly. “You can lie to all those people, but don’t lie to me.”
His hands clench into fists on his lap. “Bailey, leave it alone.”
“No.” Something in me refuses to back down. “You said I was the only person who had seen the real you. What did you mean?”
“It meant nothing.”
“It meant something to me.”
The car pulls up to the hotel. Daniel is out before it fully stops, striding toward the entrance without waiting. I follow, heels clicking against wet pavement.
We don’t speak in the elevator, and the silence is even heavier. When we reach the penthouse, I follow him down the hallway to his room.
“Bailey, go to your room.”
“No.” I position myself between him and his door. “Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You’re lying again.”
His eyes finally meet mine. “You need to stop pushing.”
“Why? What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid—”
“You are.” I step closer. “You’re terrified. And I don’t understand why.”
He exhales hard, eyes closing. For a moment, I think he’s going to push past me, then his shoulders sag slightly, and when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
“You make me forget.”
“Forget what?”
His answer is low, raw: “The hell I grew up in. The noise, the guilt, the fire. It’s always there until you are.”
“Then let me in,” I take a small step closer. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
He doesn’t answer. For a moment, I see the thirteen-year-old boy who lost everything, and then the man who built walls so high no one could reach him. The person who has been alone for so long has forgotten what it feels like to be seen.
Then the mask slams back into place.
“Goodnight, Bailey.” Daniel steps around me and opens his door.
“Daniel, please—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow for the flight home.”
