He studied me for a long, quiet second. Then, more quietly, “He talks to you?”
I blinked. “A-About…?”
“Anything,” he said.
My lips parted. “Yes.”
His throat moved. For a split second, he had to look away.
“I thought so,” he muttered.
He rubbed a thumb over his jaw, then leaned forward again, elbows on knees, hands hanging between them. When he spoke next, it wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t CEO-cold.
It was… a father.
“I’m going to ask you something,” he said. “And I need you to know I’m asking because I love my son. Not because I want to use you.”
I nodded. Small. “Okay.”
“I want Joshua to take what I built,” he said simply. “Not because I need him to validate me. I have more money than I could spend in ten lifetimes. I don’t need validation anymore.”
His mouth tightened. “I want him to take it because it is his. It was always meant to be his. I shaped it to fit his hands. I want him to have security. Leverage. Freedom. I want him to be untouchable in a world that eats men like him alive. I want him to be able to protect what he loves without bleeding for it every single day.”
My chest felt hot.
“I don’t want him to forgive me,” he said quietly. “I know better than to ask for that. He doesn’t owe me a single thing. But I want him to accept what’s already his.”
He paused.
“And I think,” he said, eyes steady on mine, “you are the only person he would listen to.”
My breath caught.
Oh.
Oh God.
“I’m…” I swallowed. “I’m not powerful. I don’t—I’m not—”
“You’re the first thing,” he cut in softly, “that my son did not push away.”
I froze.
My heart tripped over itself so hard it hurt.
“He wouldn’t date,” John said simply. “Wouldn’t entertain introductions. Wouldn’t tolerate anyone using his name. Wouldn’t let anyone near him long enough to see him bleed.” His eyes flicked to me. “And then I hear that he has a girlfriend.”
My face went hot.
“He chose you,” John said. “That means something. To him, it means everything. So, I’m asking you to try. Talk to him. Tell him he doesn’t have to give up his mother’s work to take what I built for him. He can carry both. I want him to carry both.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. “And if… if I can’t convince him?”
His jaw flexed. “Then you can’t convince him.”
I blinked.
He held my gaze. “Listen to me,” he said quietly. “Do not break what the two of you have because an old man asked you for help. Do you understand me?”
