Hewon’t help me if Mr. Simons decides he’d like to show me the lower level or his private suite. My father won’t disagree. He’ll pretend he doesn’t realize Mr. Simons’ ill intentions.
A stiffness fills my chest, and I stop breathing, pushing down the oncoming tears. There’s no point in crying. I have no choice in the matter, and thinking about what lies ahead won’t help. I need to suck it up. Bide my time. It’s just one more year.
I’ve been through worse than this. As long as I don’t fight, it won’t be as bad as three years ago.
Cody’s wristwatch tells me I have less than two hours to prepare. While I’d much rather stay here, safely cocooned in his big, warm arms, I know my father will lose his mind if I’m not ready and waiting.
Moving one inch at a time so I don’t wake him, I sneak out of Cody’s makeshift bed, and the second I pull myself away I miss the protective bubble. The addictive illusion of safety... as if nothing could touch me as long as he’s with me. As if nothing could hurt me again.
He looks so peaceful with his eyes closed. A stark contrast to the disdain—aimed at me—that usually twists his features. I reach to touch him, brush my fingers across his stubble, or map out the contour of his lips, but I stop short, my fingers hovering inches from his skin.
He wouldn’t want this.
Despite his kindness, he still hates me, and that thought pushes me to get moving. I’m too afraid to face him when he wakes up full of regret for letting me stay. For comforting me while I cried.
Quietly, I grab my keys from the coffee table and leave, heading across the hallway.
After a quick shower, I shimmy back into Cody’s hoodie and decide that pretending nothing happened is not the route I want to take.
He deserves athank youat the very least, so I whip up a quick batch of madeleines and make breakfast. I know he hits the gym daily. His body is a sight to behold, toned to perfection, so he must be on a healthy, protein-packed diet.
With that in mind, I opt for avocado and cherry tomatoes on toast and a strawberry and yogurt milkshake.
I fill a small tray, adding a few warm madeleines, and take it to Cody’s condo, certain he’s still asleep.
But he’s not. The second the door opens, I stand face to face with his broad, muscular chest, damp hair, and sweatpants. He’s on the couch, cup of coffee in hand, the makeshift bed nowhere in sight, and the living space neat and tidy.
His eyes snap to me over the rim of his cup, one brow slowly arching upward and knocking me out of the stunned silence. “Morning,” I say, taking a few steps in before nudging the door shut. “I’m sorry I didn’t knock. I thought you’d still be asleep.”
His gaze flicks over the breakfast tray, and my face, before he examines his hoodie and my bare feet.
A blush creeps onto my cheeks, but I don’t backtrack. I head straight for him and set the tray on the coffee table, aware of the silence ramping up the tension in the air.
His quiet intensity makes me squeamish, his usually expressive face now unreadable. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He doesn’t look disappointed, but he doesn’t look pleased either.
“Thank you for last night,” I say, twining my fingers in front of me. “And I’m sorry about this,” I add, tugging the hem of his hoodie. “I shouldn’t—”
“How are you feeling?” he interrupts. His concerned tone a big contrast to his emotionless expression.
“I’m fine.”
“Fine...” he repeats, testing the word.
I’m a far cry fromfine. Not only because of the day I’m facing, not only because my life is an absolute mess, but also because I spent the night cuddled into Cody, which awakened emotions I have no right to feel.
Things were easier when he acted like I was invisible. At least then, I didn’t know how safe he could make me feel.
“You want to talk?” he asks, his gaze unyielding as he stares me down. “Believe me, with six brothers, there’s nothing I haven’t heard by now.”
I very much doubt that.
“Who was that man last night?” he continues, throwing me off track.
He doesn’t know my father? How is that possible? Nico is my dad’s favorite person. The golden goose, as he calls him. He multiplies his money at an ungodly pace, and he might just be the one person my father respects.
I would’ve bet my right arm Cody knew him.
“I don’t want to talk, but thank you for offering.” Better he stays in the blissful land of ignorance. “I’ll let myself out,” I add when he remains silent.
