The door closes with a soft click, leaving me alone in the hallway.
I stand there for a long moment, pulse racing, heart aching. Through the door, I hear nothing.
He finally let me see the cracks in his armor, and I’m already too deep to pull back. I can’t walk away now.
14
Daniel
Istand at the hotel window, staring at London’s skyline through rain-blurred glass. It’s three in the morning, and I haven’t gotten even a wink of sleep.
Every word I said at that press mixer keeps replaying in my head. She is the only person who has ever seen the real me.
Not only did I say it in front of the cameras, but I also said it in front of the entire London tech community.
And I meant every word.
My phone has been buzzing nonstop since we got back. Lottie called seventeen times. The board sent three emergency emails. News outlets are probably already running stories, but I don’t care enough to open any of them. I should care. My entire reputation is built on control, on never letting them see me crack, but right now, all I can think about is the relieved look on Bailey’s face when I defended her.
I’d do it again. I’d burn every bridge, destroy every deal, ruin everything I’ve built if it meant keeping her safe.
That realization should terrify me.
Instead, it feels like the first honest thing I’ve done in twenty years.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts.
I know it’s her before I open the door. It’s ridiculous, but I can almost feel her presence through the wood. Bailey stands in the hallway wearing an oversized shirt. My shirt, I realize with a jolt. She must have grabbed it from the laundry service mix-up the day before. Her hair is down, feet bare, and she looks impossibly young and pretty.
“I couldn’t sleep either,” she says quietly.
I step aside. “Come in.”
She enters, and I close the door behind her.
We stand in the dim room, London glowing beyond the windows. Neither of us speaks for a long moment.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Don’t.” She cuts me off. “I don’t need your apology.”
“I might have destroyed everything we’ve been working toward.”
“You stood up for me.” Her voice cracks slightly. “No one has ever done that before. Not like that.”
“Bailey—”
“I just want to understand.” She takes a step closer. “Help me understand what’s happening between us. What’s going on with you? Please, I want to know everything.”
The request is simple. The answer is anything but.
I move to the couch and sink down, suddenly exhausted. She follows, sitting beside me but leaving some space between us.
“You want the truth?” I ask. “It’s not pretty.”
“I don’t need pretty.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, hands clasped so tightly my knuckles turn white.
