I laughed, too, but it came out wrong. It was much too rough and much too angry beneath the surface. “You don’t take care of yourself.”
She opened her mouth to argue, already bristling, but I didn’t let her, doubling down on my argument instead. “Youdon’t,Jane. You wear yourself thin keeping the lights on at home and at Thayer. You work until your fingers bleed, then you go home and play mom to your youngest brotherandyour own mother. You haven’t stopped since the day your father blew everything up.”
Her face hardened. “That’s not?—”
“No one is taking care ofyou, Jane,” I said quietly. “Not even you.”
That did it. I saw it the second my words landed with an unmistakable ring of truth. The weight of them cracked clean through her composure, her shoulders hitching and her eyes suddenly going bright and glassy, the ice queen mask shattering right in front of me.
“Don’t,” she said, but her voice wobbled.
I stepped closer even closer. “Your steel could be everywhere. Part of every high rise both here and overseas. Built into every ship, every oil well, and every car and truck rolling off a line.”
She shook her head faintly. “You’re not listening. I don’t have?—”
“Youwillbe worth more than me,” I said bluntly. “That’s all I want.”
Her chin lifted, her eyes flashing once more, even through the tears. “Because you benefit.”
“Because you’re my wife,” I said simply.
She rolled her eyes, tears welling on her lids. “God, you’re impossible. Do you ever listen?”
“Do you not believe me?” I countered instead.
She laughed weakly. “I barely know you.”
“Then know this,” I said, looking intently into her eyes so she knew none of this was even almost a lie. “I was born into this world. I didn’t have to fight for a thing, not my right to run Westwood and Sons, not my money, not the clothes on my back or my tower at the St. Regis. I was bred, born, and raised for it.”
I reached up, sliding my thumb across her cheek to catch a tear before it could fall. “You fought for everything you have, Killer, but what you have isn’t nearly enough for how hard you’ve fought.”
She tried to pull away, probably overwhelmed, but I didn’t let her. I closed the last bit of distance between us and gathered her in a hug before she could retreat into herself again. It was innocent, simple comradery, and I hated the way she crumbled because she’d never even had that before.
Right now, she felt to me like the same steel her company produced, strong, forged under impossible pressure, but left out in the elements too long. Rusted. Beaten. Ready to crack if someone hit it just right.
“I’m stepping in now,” I murmured against her hair. “I’m going to feed you, because you eat like you’re starving. I’m buying you a fucking car. I’m going to keep scheduling mornings at the spa so you have an hour just to breathe.”
She let out a broken laugh against my chest before I pulled back, took her face into my hands, and looked directly into her eyes. “And then, I’m making you CEO andyou’regoing to make us a billion dollars.”
Her eyes searched mine, her expression raw and unguarded, her voice barely above a whisper when she spoke again. “You don’t get to decide my life.”
“No, but I get to stand beside you while you do what you were always meant to do with it.”
She exhaled, long and shaky, and for a moment neither of us moved, but then I took her hand in a firm grip and finally stepped away from her. “But before we get to any of that, we’re going to lunch. Let’s go, Killer. I can’t wait to hear all about your morning at the spa. Then I’ll tell you about the plans we have to get you everywhere you could ever want to go.”
CHAPTER 21
JANE
At six a.m. on Thursday morning, several days after my showdown with Alex and the quiet, casual lunch that had followed, I watched a towing company pull into my driveway. I frowned at the window, holding a mug of coffee in both hands, and assumed the truck had taken a wrong turn.
It was snowing again, the city cast in silver and gray, the kind of morning when the world felt paused. I was still in my pajamas and a fluffy robe, but it seemed the towing company people were wide awake and going swiftly about their day already.
When a shadow moved behind the tow truck, indicating that someone had climbed out, my stomach dropped. A man stepped carefully over the slush, tablet tucked neatly under one arm as he walked up to our front door. My frown deepened, but it was darn cold outside, and clearly, he had the wrong address.
Without waiting for him to knock, I hurried to the door and pulled it open, tightening the robe around myself when the icy air hit me like a blast straight to my bones. “Excuse me, sir. Who are you?”
“Dr. Jane Thayer-Westwood?” he asked, blinking up at me before extracting the tablet from under his arm. “That you?”
