Tied to His Betrayal (Dirty Little Secrets 2) - Page 15

I want to see her eyes. I’m desperate to see the warmth in them. I reach for her, turning her to me. I don’t know the woman staring back at me. She’s so distant, so very far away. “They will be proud of you.”

“Maybe,” she says, staring into my eyes the way only she can, holding my attention so forcefully I know nothing around me. “But I didn’t want them to know this.”

“Then don’t tell him. They might never find out, anyway.”

She considers the options then cocks her head. “Is that better, though? What if my secrets do come out and what if they find out what happened to me from a damn news article?”

I nod, acknowledging her worries. “You’re right, that would be worse than if you were honest with them.”

She sighs again, her exhaustion palpable. “I’m going to have to tell them…”—she rubs her hands over her face—“just not today, and not until I know exactly what I want to say so it doesn’t come out all jumbled. I don’t want this to upset my mother.”

My stomach roils. Again and again it is because of me, my life, my wants and needs, that Taylor faces unhappiness. And in the moment she should only be thinking of herself, she worries how her mother will react. She’s just being Taylor, selfless. Christ, she astounds me. She’s so different than me.

There’s so much I see in her eyes; so much emotion and love. But alongside it, I see deep-rooted concern, and I doubt it’s about her parents. Taylor carries the tension in her tight shoulders and her stillness, showing me that she’s far from comfortable about what to do next.

“What else worries you?” Tell me so I can fix it, is what I want to say.

She moves to the couch, legs touching the armrest, crossing her arms. “I can’t help but wonder who’s going to hire me now. Soon, all of San Francisco is going to know who I am. All they’re going to ask me in the interview is if I’m that girl with the famous Darius Bennett.”

“In this case, I think it may actually help you,” I offer.

“Help? How can this possibly help me?”

“It’s great publicity.” Before she lashes out, which her glare tells me is imminent, I explain, “You could use this to your benefit. Pick a job that you would kill for and apply for it, telling them that your presence will draw attention to their business. It’s free advertising.”

She stares at me for a good few seconds before shaking her head in disbelief. “Of course you find a way to take a negative and spin it.”

I arch a brow at her. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“It’s not necessarily bad”—she shrugs—“it’s just not the way I do things.”

Which is why I’m the billionaire and she’s not. I’ll make deals with the Devil. “If you don’t want to go that route, I’m sure you still have nothing to worry about. Someone will hire you,” I reassure her. “You’re damn good at what you do.”

“Thanks.” She smiles then slowly begins to relax, closing herself off to me and the conversation as she wraps her arms around herself. “Ugh, this is all just such a disaster.” She pushes off the couch and heads into the kitchen.

I reach out and gently grab her wrist, and I like the intensity I see when she looks back at me. “Your staying with Shawn is a disaster,” I correct. “This, what you’re going through right now, is the end of a journey. It needs to end, and endings are never enjoyable, but it doesn’t mean you don’t have another beginning to look forward to.”

“I guess you’re right.” She gives a weak smile.

I brush the lines of that smile, hating seeing her so torn up. “I understand why you’re worrying about all this, but I won’t let them hurt you any more than they already have, Taylor.”

She stares at me fiercely. “How are you going to stop them?”

?

??That’s my worry, not yours. Believe me, they won’t capture another photo of us together. We won’t give them another story.”

She heaves the longest sigh of the night. “There are some things even you can’t protect me from, Darius.”

The desolate sound of Taylor’s voice chills me. There’s something more she’s hiding, I can sense it, and my instincts, personal and professional, are something I never doubt. But I can’t push her now. I know that.

If I push now she’ll shut me out. It’s a careful dance with Taylor, and right now, I know she needs something else from me.

I tug on her arm a little, bringing her close, more for me than for her. I wrap my arms around her, catching a whiff of her coconut-milk-scented shampoo and the sweet aroma that belongs only to her. She leans into me like she’s needed this hug for a long time, so I squeeze her a little tighter.

Minutes go by.

They are minutes that I do not count or will ever miss.

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