The Billionaire's Illicit Twins - Holly Rayner Page 0,54

see the joy on her face when she realized it was gone.

We ate in the living room. Partially because Bella had taken one look at the dining room and rejected it.

“Too stuffy,” she declared. “Not us.”

“Us?” I asked, surprised. “Are there rules for being us, now?”

She looked at me like I was insane.

“Of course there are. Relish and mustard on hot dogs, hold the ketchup. Or cheese and a pickle, depending on which weekend it is. Brunch on Sunday mornings. Movie nights on Sunday nights. As many amazing views as we can work in on a weekend. And Broadway shows as often as we can manage. And—” She reached out and grabbed my plate from me. “—no stuffy dining rooms. Period. It’s not us.”

I shook my head, amazed. “I never realized we were making rules for us. Can I add cheesecake once a month and ice cream in Central Park whenever it’s sunny?”

“Deal.” She grinned, then turned to walk toward the living room. “Come on. We’re eating on the couch.”

I followed, shaking my head at the woman who would both refuse to admit that we could be anything more and then calmly go through the highlights of our not-relationship, like it was something anyone with eyes in their head could see.

Five minutes later, seated on the plush couch in the living room, I was admitting that her spaghetti sauce was absolutely as good as she had promised and that my socks were well and truly blown off. Ten minutes later, I was taking my plate—and hers—back for seconds.

By eight that night, we were in the middle of a rom-com marathon and Bella was yawning every five minutes. When she finally leaned back, I moved enough so I was sitting up against her, ignoring the shockwaves it sent through my body, and put a hand up to pull her head down onto my shoulder.

“We are officially like an old married couple,” I noted, my eyes on the clock over the TV.

I felt her stiffen slightly. “What?”

“Cooking in the afternoon, then watching rom-com after rom-com and ready to fall asleep at eight on a Saturday night?” I said, smiling. “These are not the actions of young people.” Or people who aren’t in a relationship, I didn’t add.

“Well. We’re in our thirties,” she noted. “We’re not exactly young anymore.”

“But also, not old.”

“And also not married,” she added. “Or in a relationship.”

Okay, well there was my opening. I just had to take it.

I steeled myself, building a wall around my heart and going through the plan—what I had of it—once again. And then I jumped.

“What if we were?” I asked softly.

More stiffening from Bella. And this led to her actually sitting up and turning around to stare at me, her face wary.

“What if we were what?”

“In a relationship. Or at least… in more of a relationship than what we’re already doing.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Ethan, what are you asking me?”

I didn’t know. Or rather, I did, but I also knew that she’d never go for what I really wanted. Not yet. It broke too many of her rules.

I had to find some middle ground. Something she could say yes to without feeling like she was giving in—or risking any of her safety.

“I’m asking you to change our deal,” I replied. “Or rather… I’m asking to change the deal I offered you. These last few months…”

I reached out and took her hand, threading my fingers through hers and feeling a thrill when she didn’t pull away from me. “Bella, I didn’t think I wanted anything like this. I didn’t think I wanted a kid, or a girlfriend, or even a friend who took up too much of my time. I didn’t think I had room for it in my life. But it turns out I do. It turns out I like having someone like that in my life. I like having you in my life.”

The muscles around her eyes eased a little bit and the frown disappeared.

“I like having you in my life, too. That doesn’t mean—”

“But what if it does?” I interrupted. “What if it does mean that? Look, I know you don’t want to risk your career on the conflict of interest people might say this is. I think you’re exaggerating, personally, but I know—” I put up a hand to stop her when I saw her getting ready to argue with me on that point. “—I know that you believe that. But what if we don’t actually have a relationship? What if